The Misadventures of an Amateur Naturalist by Ceinwen Langley

Author:Ceinwen Langley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feed the Writer Press.

I wiped my nose on the skirt of my chemise. The air in the wardrobe was close and hot, my skin aflame beneath my single layer of cotton. I had lost my blanket somewhere in the library, had discarded my remaining glove with Angie’s envelope and the owl feather still tucked inside somewhere beside me. There was no way of knowing how much time had passed since I’d fled from the beast, but it had been long enough for terror to give way to frustration.

Why had it passed up the opportunity to kill me in the library, only to try to follow me to the second floor? Had I been right about it toying with me? Was the beast enjoying this game of cat and mouse? Because I decidedly wasn’t.

But then, I supposed, the mouse never did.

My body shook with a painful, croaking cough. My lungs were beginning to fill with the same thick fluid that dripped from my nose.

My head felt too full.

I couldn’t breathe.

I nudged one of the wardrobe doors open and gulped at the cold air. The sun had recently set, the light of day fading behind it, but not quite gone. I’d been hiding for hours, then. I checked the chair wedged beneath the doorknob. It was still there, undisturbed. The beast hadn’t even tried to come for me.

Moving slowly, I climbed out of the wardrobe and sent the heavy soles of several pairs of decrepit shoes clattering to the floor around me. The owl opened his eyes at the sound. He was on the windowsill now, his back to the glass. I gave him a half-hearted stroke as I dragged myself across the room to lie in my nest. It was more comfortable than the wardrobe, and now that I had some distance from my flight, it seemed an obvious choice to live a minute less in a soft, makeshift bed than a minute more in complete discomfort.

My God, I was hot.

I pulled at my chemise. It was stained red and yellow and soaked through with sweat, plastering it to my skin. It ought to have been icy to the touch, but all I felt was fire.

I woke to complete darkness.

Had I been asleep? My teeth chattered, every contact between them setting off a blossom of pain in my head. My body was stiff, the cold biting deep into my bones. I pulled the remaining blanket and sheet tightly around myself and curled into a ball, but it didn’t help.

My mind wandered, showing me glimpses of Geneviève, of Papa’s study, of cheesecake, of bluethroats and stag beetles, of ships bobbing in the sea, of something Raymonde had whispered to me once, her lips brushing against my ear. Of Angie reaching her feet towards the fire. Of Clement Orlean running for a train.

My thoughts danced in and around each other until daylight crept back into the room a minute or an eternity later. The owl watched me from the windowsill, head tilting from side to side in the gloom of morning.

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