[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]
Sleep came as soon as his head hit the pillow, in fact, and he didn’t stir until someone knocked on the cottage door. It was a quiet sound, though the cadence was brisk, just enough to wake him. None of the others stirred as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and crossing from the cot he’d been sleeping on toward the door. It looked like it was still dark beyond the curtains, and Bryant frowned to himself, scrubbing his hand over his face again.
What the hell is going on?
He opened the door before whoever was on the other side could knock again, blinking slightly at the sight of the woman on the other side of the door. She came with a basket of what he could only guess were supplies of some kind, her smile gentle and her eyes bright despite what Bryant knew must be an early hour—the sky was barely any lighter now than it had been when he’d gone to bed.
“Can I help you?” he asked, squinting at her.
She smiled and shook her head. “I came to help you. They’re starting to get breakfast going if you’re hungry, but I came to check on your friend.”
“This—this early in the morning?” I must still be dreaming. It’s way too early for this. And breakfast, now? Even back home we didn’t eat this early.
“Mm,” she said with a nod, then gestured to the shadows behind him. “Can I come in?”
“I guess?” He stepped aside so she could get past him, his brow furrowing. None of the others were awake.
This has to be a dream. It must be.
Isn’t it?
