Copyright © 2008 Patrice Sarath
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
I hold the light and the darkness presses against my hands trembling under the onslaught of shadow. A cry escapes me as I am engulfed in darkness and the light explodes...
* * *
"Wake up, sleepyhead. The sun is rising and we have a great deal to do today."
Only my sister could be so driven in the morning. I burrowed deeper into my thin pillow, but she was relentless. "Tesara, wake up."
That did it--indignantly I opened my bleary eyes. The harsh desert heat shimmered against the walls of the tent. "Jalan, must you -?"
"Yes, I must. Besides, you were talking in your sleep." I snorted in disbelief and she tsked. "So unladylike."
As if either of us were ladies. I sat up on my pallet, rolling the aches from my shoulders. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't--"
"You kept on saying something about the light, and how heavy it was. 'I can't hold it back,' you said."
My mouth made an O and I could feel the color drain from my face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I managed and got up. I kept my back to her as I moistened a handkerchief with a scant bit of water from our rations and tried to wipe the sleep from my face. I could feel Jalan watching and I wondered if she could tell that I was lying. Of course she could - it was her special gift.
I looked at my reflection in the gilt-edged glass hanging over the dressing table. My eyes showed strain; my complexion under its desert tan was as pale as my linen nightdress.
Ever since we entered the desert on this merchants' adventure, I had been haunted by dreams of light and shadow. And now I was speaking of them in my sleep. "I want to go home," I whispered to the glass. I was by no means sure, however, that my dreams would not follow me there as well.