Seven – 04

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

It was Thom that broke the silence again, after another dozen steps, as they drew closer to their own door and the promise of dry clothes, warm blankets, and their bed. “Do you ever see them with children in your visions?”

Marin blinked, glancing sidelong at him, brow furrowing. “What?”

“Hecate and Matt,” he murmured. “Do you ever see them with children?”

Her stomach twisted and she frowned a little deeper, half wondering what had brought the question on. “I never really thought about it,” she said softly.

“Do you ever see us with more than one?”

“Thom, what are you—”

“I don’t know,” he said, voice breaking as he said it. “I don’t know what I’m getting at. I just—I just keep thinking, that’s all. I keep thinking about a lot of things and then there are things that I’m not thinking about that just appear. The thought just pops and I don’t know what to do about it. And then—and then—there are things that I don’t think about that are just suddenly there.”

“Thom,” her voice came quietly, soothingly, her stomach in knots, bile creeping higher in her throat. “Talk to me.”

He shook his head as he opened their door, limping inside. She followed, shutting the door behind them as Thom turned up the lamp on their bedside table.

“You’re not making any sense,” Marin said softly, carrying Lin to his cradle. She shifted his blankets and laid him down gently, then spread his blanket over him again. Thom sat down on the edge of their bed, reaching down to start taking off his shoes.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know and I’m sorry. I just—I drew something today while I was talking to Matt and I don’t remember thinking about drawing it and I don’t remember actually drawing it and I don’t know what it means.”

Marin’s stomach dropped. “What was it?”

“A cradle,” Thom said, looking up at her. “I drew a cradle.”

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