Chapter 24: The Far Shore

Chapter 24: The Far Shore

The stars are pretty.

It was an odd thought to have that night, but one I found undeniably true. I’m not sure when I’d first seen them, to be frank. Somewhere in the depths of infancy, I imagine Mom had probably brought me outside for fresh air. I assume this because I couldn’t remember seeing them for the first time because they felt as if they were always there.

I’d seen them hundreds of times now, but that thought never left whenever I looked up and felt my words fade away. They went beyond mere lights in the sky and exploded into a full-on cascade of colors across the night sky. Not all, to be certain. A few were twinkling little lights, but others exuded a vibrancy, a color ranging from deep crimson hues to emerald greens to turquoise, lilac, and more, that all felt intentional.

Mom had said that was literally true, that the stars were a tapestry woven by the gods when the world was young to give the creatures of the dark their own light to treasure. She said there used to be more, and always looked sad when she looked up at the sky, so that left me to wonder what the night sky looked like when the gods were still there?

I guess that meant even a ruined masterpiece is still beautiful.

I also wondered if the gods made the lamprey thing I knew would be etched into my nightmares yet somehow counted as the second scariest thing I’d seen in this world, or if it came about after their spontaneous existence failures. Post apocalyptic fiction from my first life suggested very bad things.

Apparently, the thing that attacked camp? It was called a false seal. Found cat folk tasty. Kittens especially. Liked to mimic seals from time to time, but could be surprisingly sneaky when they wanted to be. Known to be extremely persistent if their preferred prey — cat folk — were nearby and often had to be killed before they’d stop. If that was it, they’d be bad enough, but there was more. They came in family groups. The one that killed one of the hunters, that fearlessly charged into the camp and took half a dozen shots and a lot of angry stabbing to kill? It was a juvenile. Barely weaned off its mother’s blood. Yes, blood.

Fun.

So, we left.

It was a fairly ordered affair. The camp was packed up, tent folded, blankets neatly arranged in the cart, tools loaded into packs. What meat that was dried into jerky was loaded, as well as the hides ready for transport. We all ate as much of the meat that wasn’t ready for transport as possible until everyone was groaning with tummy aches. The rest, along with the unfinished hides, were left to rot.

Maybe some other catgirl kitten and her shipwrecked mom would stumble across them and be saved. Or maybe I was just being slightly delusional, and the more likely outcome was a rock knocker peeing on them to show dominance after we left.

The thought left me feeling irrationally angry. So much hard work, wasted. I hadn’t helped there very much as I tended to Mom, but I had seen the effort they put in to secure provisions, to have something when they, no, we, arrived back in civilization, whatever that may be.

Of course, the anger only had moments of flare that barely broke the full bodied, unsettling fear I felt and left me feeling so, so very small in an even bigger world.

Twice now, I’d seen two things fit for the darkest stories of my old just casually in the world, and both had looked at me as a meal.

A serene smile, a beautiful face I could trust, if I would just climb over the railing…

I shuddered.

Two months, and I still found her face flashing in my thoughts. She should be dead. Yet I still found myself transfixed by her face even though she should be exploded and dead beneath the waves. Mom said she killed it. I don’t think she believed it herself.

Now, I had another monster to be added to the trauma list.

I knew it was just another thing to get over, and I would. Besides looking scary, the false seal hadn’t actually done anything to me. Oh sure, it definitely saw me as a snack, and made moves to get closer, but it hadn’t even done much more than to look at me and die shortly after given the infuriated pride of cat folk surrounding it.

But, seeing it opened the way for the woman in the water to surface in my thoughts again. Like a circling shark egged on by the silence, I would find my train of thought, already beset by worries of how things would turn out when we finally got to civilization, brought back to her soothing face, the implicit offer if I just stepped the edge, everything would be okay…

I shuddered, again.

Which left me where I was now. I sat on a cart, Zenn still latched onto my side and asleep after hours of silence. Cat folk were spread in an circle around the cart with axes, hatchets, makeshift spears and tridents, Mom on my left with her shard thrower, Jonas with a walking stick and the distraught woman from the funeral holding the breech loader on the right as we made our way through the night. I really needed to learn her name.

She seemed especially vigilant. Or paranoid. She was scanning the trees a lot. So was Mom, admittedly.

Unknown names and language barrier of my escort or not, it was almost like I was a princess with an honor guard. Except, my carriage was a stinky cart stuffed with smelly clothes, dried meat, and even smellier seal hides that made up the luxury seating.

Still.

I don’t know how long I stared at the stars that night we left camp. Day started to break by the time my eyes finally felt heavy enough to sleep, but even that took a while with the low irritation in my throat.

~~~~

The first day of travel was fine if a bit subdued.

No one talked above whispers unless necessary, we rested in most well defended locations like a small cave, a hilltop with a hard to climb ridge on two sides, etc. The land was composed of the same old plodding sparse grasslands with scattered trees, but as time wore on this gradually gave to thicker forests. I slept on the cart with Zenn, while everyone formed a tight circle with a nightly watch where either Mom or someone with the gun were up. No fires were made; just dried meat was eaten. New growth was still too young, barring a few greens. The meat wasn’t so bad with my fangs, even if I did have a little difficulty eating it. Helped to soak it for a bit. I found myself missing the blue rice we had back on the island.

The only downside was that the itch at the back of my throat got worse. I kept swallowing to suppress the irritation.

By the third day, I had a little cough. I held it in as much as I could because I didn’t want to worry the others more than they already were. Most of the refugees didn’t notice, nor Jonas or Zenn. Mom noticed I was off, but I don’t think she knew what. She just had lots of little worried glances and asked me if something was wrong.

By the fourth day, I couldn’t hold it in. While trying to eat a piece of jerky, I had a coughing fit. When I lifted my hand, I saw phlegm tinged with pink. I hid it and wiped it on my pants before anyone could see.

By the fifth day, my body felt heavy and I was sweating and coughing constantly. Zenn protested but was lifted away from my side by Jonas.

Mom stopped leaving my side. Sandy tried telling me stories of the old world and jolly heroes tricking evil doers.

By the sixth day, everything hurt and my lungs burned. It was hard to see, to think. My everything hurt. I was so tired, but my whole body hurt so much I couldn’t sleep. I heard shouting. Everyone felt angry. It made me sad and I tried to say I was okay. I just coughed instead again and again.

On the seventh day…

~~~~

I opened my eyes to alien stars. They stretched above me on a black fabric of infinity, each pinprick a flickering prick of white that stood out so strongly against the surrounding dark, as if in defiance of its fate. Yet, the lights left a feeling of creeping ice down my back and into my tail that left my hair standing up and my claws out as I went from asleep to fully alert for how utterly wrong it was.

There was no color, no vibrancy, just cold, uncaring beacons of a white light that would not care if I lived or died, that would watch the passing of a species and feel nothing.

It was maddening the more I looked at it.

Then I recognized the Little Dipper. I blinked.

The spell shattered. Or was it ever one to begin with? I scanned the sky, certain for a trick, but saw nothing than…stars. Granted, they were stars I hadn’t seen in a long time, but stars, nonetheless. Something, someone in another life a long time ago, watched as a child not so dissimilar to me with his dad, a telescope, and a bag full of cool onion potato chips.

Oh, I’m dreaming.

The realization this was a dream was weird.

I mostly didn’t remember my dreams, and Mom hadn’t said anything about dreaming, so I assumed things were normal. Maybe something was funky if there was a missing god of dreams or something, but I hadn’t noticed anything. Maybe it was like an autonomous machine left to its own devices? Or just chemicals and signals in a sleeping brain.

I didn’t know. Back to dreams.

When I dreamt, it was usually just a mix of things with Mom, the island, animals, and random things from my first life. Like I’d be walking on a beach with Mom searching for candy shells when we’d pass a skyscraper without a second glance or get in a car to drive to Sandy with me somehow driving despite being too small for the seat, or just stupid memes. Why, oh why, did I remember the Nyan Cat song so clearly when so much else was so fuzzy?

Still, this was weird.

Mostly, it wasn’t the first time I’d realized I was dreaming, but it was the first time I found things this utterly lucid. Okay, the star moment before was…

I had no idea what to make of that. It might have been something more, might have been a nightmare of a train of thought, or maybe just seeing old stars I hadn’t seen once in this life as anything but a memory triggered a flight or fight response.

I really didn’t know.

But, when I had realized I was in a dream, I’d think, “I’m in a dream” and then continue as normal with no control over whatever train of nonsense I was on. But here? I was able to look and see with clarity as much as if I had woken up, eaten, and generally had time to be awake for an hour or two to fight off sleep.

I sat up and looked around. Above, the stars of my first life arced into infinity while around me was the bedroom of the citadel Mom and I lived at back on the island. It looked mostly the same sans star roof, but there were a few oddities from my first life mixed in. Like, a novelty anime themed clock my first life’s dad had gifted him on his thirteenth birthday that showed a black silhouette of a girl with a scythe framing a clock face with four letters inscribed in its middle. Elsewhere, other things from my first life’s bedroom sat around, like a familiar battered dresser, a nonsensical hole hidden by a dart board from the time my first life accidentally smashed part of the dry wall in, and a poster that…

I covered my eyes and turned away with a grimace. Past life me was a pervert. Heck, the reason I was here was because he was dumb and couldn’t keep his fetish to himself. He wouldn’t have survived Fort Stinky on Smellyweed Isle. I knew that wasn’t its name, but mine was better.

I huffed and stood up. As I did so, I took great joy in being able to do so without pain. The past few days had seen my whole body…ache…

Oh.

I was sick. Really sick.

This was probably related, wasn’t it?

I gulped and looked around for a certain fairy, but he was nowhere to be seen. I breathed out in relief.

I really wasn’t ready to go. I loved my mama and wanted to see more of the world, even if it was a bit scary so far. Zenn and Sandy and Jonas were nice. More people like them had to be out there, right?

That and more candy. I’d like to eat more mint drops and more chocolate and more caramel and more of everything and do more before I was done with this life. I hadn’t even had cake yet! I know it was out there, Mom said so, but I hadn’t gotten any! No fair if my first life didn’t even get a full go at things and then this one gets even less. I’d also like to get a handle on magic. It seemed neat and like I had only scratched what it could do here, even if Mom could be a better teacher. At least Sandy was better. Maybe she could take over?

…

I didn’t want our time together to be over.

I thought of that for a while, looked at some of the little things in the room, such as the set of playing cards my old life had enjoyed doing basic magic tricks with or the first little blue notebook Mom had given me to doodle in. It'd been left behind on the island. Eventually, I put it out of mind and stepped out to explore.

I didn’t know what this dream was, or if it was even a dream, but it seemed to mirror my memories.

I emerged into a place that was both the sea fort I had known, but also the road outside my first life’s childhood home with a sad little tree with a single swing on it. Was this all going to be a mix of things?

Still, it wasn’t hard to find the room I was looking for. A few turns and a bit of wandering later and I was in the same old storeroom. Nothing from my old life touched it, and it was almost like I’d left it, but there I found the mural I’d left behind.

“Celia,” I said, touching the mural and tracing her mural’s hair. She still smiled, just like I’d left her next to Mom and me.

How long I stayed there, looking at my artwork, the proof I had wanted to leave behind, I can’t say. Part of me wondered if she’d pop out and say, ‘Hello sis!’ but, no such luck. Did her eyes follow mine, or did I imagine it? I couldn’t say, but hearing her voice for the first time would’ve been nice. Creepy, but nice. Instead, after a silent eternity, I said goodbye once more and gently closed the door behind me.

Outside, I saw mists obscuring my vision, which seemed a bit blunt and intentionally mysterious for a lucid dream. Shadowy skyscrapers were a bit much, though. Then, I just wandered.

There was no destination in mind. I was worried, of course. This wasn’t normal. I really doubted this was a dream at this point, I was too aware, too conscious, but there wasn’t much else I could do, and there were sights to see in this, I don’t know, memoryscape?

I passed the beach where Mom and I got crabs the most often and how I scored my first victory against a dreaded opponent and yes, it was a crab and he was delicious. I passed the graves, and I gave a moment of silence to them, but nothing more than an idle breeze disturbed the markers. I made sure to pat Celia’s grave marker before I left and hoped she could feel it too, wherever she was.

I saw many things from my old life, too. Practically every building was there, with skyscrapers obnoxiously ominous in the distance like, I get it, they’re a big thing, but still. I saw my first life’s childhood home, complete with swing out front hanging from an oak tree. I chose not to go in. That was his. Part of me really wanted to see Dad, but he wasn’t my real dad in this life, even though I thought of him like my dad, and it felt like an overstep to breach that boundary.

I passed a familiar middle school with a statue of a bronze horse outside its front. I had no desire to see relics of awkward teenage years when I hadn’t even experienced my own yet. I paused to admire the front entrance. Partially because it was a nice example of pseudo-Greek architecture with Corinthian columns holding up the front overhand and steps, but it was mostly for the full-sized replica of a bronze horse. Admittedly, this was partly because I’m pretty sure horses didn’t exist in my new life. At least, none were in the books Mom had read to me had any in them. Some hoofed animals, yes, but no horses. Maybe I was wrong and vast, huge herds ten thousand strong galloped over endless plains across a vast continent. Or not. Still, it was a neat bronze horsie and I committed it to memory. If that’s how it worked here.

My wanderings continued in a similar fashion. My old life dominated more than this one, but I guess that makes sense. If this is memory, then twentyish years…I think? Twenty seems right beats five years and change of memory. Maybe one day I’d have my own memories to match it? The thought seemed appealing to me but also kinda sad.

This was, of course, beat out by the discovery of a hot dog stand. Specifically, a well stocked hot dog stand. I may have squeed.

One of the things that occasionally hit me hard as a direct result of my awareness of my first life was cravings. Specifically, I would, every now and then, get a craving for food that doesn’t exist. In my case, there was absolutely nothing resembling a processed hot dog. One time Mom had a can of sausage things kinda like mini hotdogs hot dogs with a spicy sauce for a special treat with our rice, but even that was different and a bit fishier than what a proper hot dog would be like. I wasn’t sure what the meat was, but the rule of sausage from my old life probably held true here too.

I wasted no time in helping myself to everything it had to offer and, after a bit of climbing up the stand and balancing myself, I had everything needed for an absolute abomination of a hot dog topped with everything I could find: pickled onion, coleslaw, ketchup, mustard, melted cheese, hot sauce, some chili, horseradish, honey packets, and more and more. It was not very hot dog looking by the end, but I was drooling!

Fortunately, it had some bowls too, so I was able to pile even more toppings on!

I left humming, happy, and mouth full of a wonderful mix of everything that set my taste buds alight when I saw it. Gold.

I froze. I tracked where it was, and saw nothing for a moment, but when I moved it appeared again!

Ever so slowly, I saw it shift with my movements. I focused intently while my tail stilled. When I saw the glint again, my claws shot out and I was left…

Holding a gold thread?

I followed it, and found the thread, so utterly thin as to be nearly invisible, was wrapped around my own hand. Not tightly but somehow it lingered no matter how I moved.

I reached for it and found the loop moved easily enough. It felt like I could break it easily enough, but the slightest pressure beyond gave me a weird feeling. Not wrongness, per se, but… almost final? It was hard to say. I decided to leave it for now as it wasn’t hurting anything.

Instead, I followed it.

This took a while.

I followed it down streets and dimly lit paths, through familiar and strange buildings, out of the city of my dreams and into a deep wood that felt ancient, yet it just kept going. But I was patient. I kept a hold of the string. When it disappeared, I knew it was still there and would angle my hand I knew was holding its weightless form until the gold shined again. When it was too dark, I would retrace my steps to a street light, lantern, or even moonlit plain until I could find the gold again and then make my way forward as best as I could. I kept going and going until I broke past the misty forest and found myself standing upon an endless shoreline.

The stars blossomed. Some remnants of my old life’s stars remained far behind me, but here I saw the brilliant vibrant colors of the stars of this life and was happy to see them. I didn’t know if it meant I was closer, but the familiarity was nice.

I walked up and down the shore, but no matter how I looked, the string always disappeared into the water. Eventually, I found a headland that let me go a bit further, but only a tiny bit. I frowned and looked around at the endless sea, and back at the woods I came from. There really seemed to be no further way to go.

I sat and nibbled more on my snack a bit more, thinking, and then decided, effectively, ‘Why not?’

“Um… Benefactor? Spirit? Are you there? I would really like to talk with you and maybe wake up if that’s okay. I’d really like to see my mama soon.”

The gentle breeze stilled. The lap of water stopped. The very stars seemed to freeze in place as my words echoed. Then, reality shifted before my eyes as they showed themselves for the first time.

Chapter 24 Author’s Note

I will admit that ending is a little evil, but this chapter has grown and grown, and the next part will probably entail enough for another chapter.

Also, and to confront the elephant in the room, but yes, I have flirted with that most horrible of story tropes, the dream sequence.

I think, and this may be me, but dream sequences are often despised for how they remove character agencies. Oh, maybe not in those words, or other intentionally mysterious things and hints the author can drop in. This? This is my take on one and tried to address it in a compelling way. At least as I think of it, Gwen is well aware this isn’t normal and it’s her own movement in this realm of memories and dreams that drives things rather than ‘Random X shit happens good luck interpreting this MC’.

Do let me know how I handled this? It’s definitely on the experimental side of things, but we’ll see.

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