Bird by Rita Murphy

Author:Rita Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375891137
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2008-10-14T04:00:00+00:00

9

The days following Wysteria’s departure were lonely, the nights long and fretful. Outside, a strange fog settled over the cliffs, lingering in the gullies and spreading out over the fields. Dr. Mead could not make his way out to me each day as he had promised, for the air had become dense and impenetrable. I did not venture past the front gates of the Manor myself, as I could not see beyond my own hand. I pitied any sailor caught out on the lake in such weather. A mist that thick could close in and envelop a boat in its impervious vapor for hours, parting only long enough to display a small circumference of water and no land in sight.

Perhaps it was the mist that obscured my thoughts, for like a sailor caught in its spell, I could think only that I was bound to the Manor forever and could not see my way free of it.

As well, I had discovered in Wysteria’s absence that the Manor was plagued by strange noises after dark, and the Hounds bayed and howled at the walls as if something lingered inside them, wishing to escape. I consoled myself with the knowledge that fog often produces odd echoes, catching and holding sounds and throwing them far off to betray the senses, and that the Hounds were known on occasion to bark at their own shadows. Still, I could not dismiss my mounting sense of unease at the thought that the Manor was mourning the loss of its mistress and in its grief had turned its full attention upon me, wrapping me firmly in its gloom.

On nights when I fell into a deep enough sleep, my dreams were disturbed by shadows of dark creatures and oppressive forces, and I often woke feeling as if the walls themselves were alive and pressing in upon me. At such moments, I would stand up and walk about my room to convince myself it was not true. By the time morning arrived, I would have vowed to leave the Manor and never return, to take my chances in the fog, but by afternoon I could not imagine why I had felt so, and chastised myself for ever having entertained a desire to flee.

It was during this time that I once again saw the fire on the beach. This was most uncommon—not only that someone would choose to make camp there during such foul weather, but that I could see the fire at all through the bleakness. In the drifting mist I caught distinct glimpses of it. The same fire, the same spot. When I opened the front door to let the Hounds out, I caught the scent of woodsmoke as it drifted inland on the faint and lifeless breeze.

I kept the lantern burning through the day, as was done in the case of fog, but I did not attempt to signal again to the maker of the fire, for I did not know to whom I signaled, friend or foe.

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