[This post is from Thomas Merlin Ambrose’s point of view.]
“That garden there used to be special,” I guessed as she tugged me gently along the path back toward the bridge. “You guys never talk about it, though.”
“No,” she agreed. “We don’t. We all have our own reasons for that.” She smiled faintly, sadly. My heart ached a little as I saw the pain reflected in her eyes.
I don’t understand why it was important, or why it hurts, but I know that it was.
We lapsed into silence as we went further back toward the bridge and the village beyond. The further we got from the barrow and the nearer we got to the ravine again, the tenser I started to get. Carolyn squeezed my hand, as if she was trying to reassure me.
“What’re you thinking?” she asked me.
“What’s stopping one of those monsters from getting to me again when we cross the bridge,” I said. “Aunt Caro—Aunt Caro, I saw something when I was down there. When I told Uncle Phelan about it he went all kinds of pale and I—I don’t understand why.”
“The fairies will tell us if there’s any danger,” she assured me, gently wrapping her arm around my shoulders again. I leaned into her as we walked, a little bit of the tension draining. “When did it happen?”
“A few seconds before I was attacked,” I said. “I—I saw Mom and Dad and Uncle Drew, but it was a long time ago, back before everything you guys grew up with ended. It was nighttime and they were down there and I don’t know why.” I swallowed hard. “…and I think they could see me, too.”
