She slowed down when she saw them.

„Too many to count.“ Sounded like a joke. She didn't laugh. „None you could fix without two songs and a day you'll never get back.“ Her smile was tired. „I'll keep you in mind. When I run out of worse ideas.“ She seemed upset.

„Bram.“ Dry as the coat over her arm. „Tell me you haven't licked anything strange in the last ten minutes.“

The boy's grin was an open book. „Na. Just helped Dove with medicine. And pillows.“ He seemed worried for a moment. „You know Jem's a tailor?“

„Uh huh“ Vyn knelt down to be eye level with the boy. „The tailor is hiding cookies in his Wagon, I hear.“ A mischievous look was shared. Vyn didn't seem to notice the girl still kneeling at the basket.

Eyes back to Dove.

„Marcy said you were around here.“ Resisted the urge to say she was glad no one was dead yet. The bird creature didn't seem to take jokes well.

The girl stood slowly, shape soft at the edges. Bram didn't notice. Too busy thinking of the best way to get one over on a tailor. She turned slowly towards the trees and walked. No fanfare. Or even a goodbye. Just the quiet splash of mud and the birds that refused to get close.

The coat was being moved into view.

„Take this. It gets cold at night.“ A hint of something strange in her eyes as she eyed the trees. „Let me know if anyone starts asking for the ghost pillow girl“ Vyn moved with a casual that was too casual. Her words matched.
 
Dove frowned a bit, the coat being pushed into her hand. A distorted face. The gesture was nice. But the thought of wearing something so.. weighing, seemed suffocating. Even just holding this.. Her eyes looked up at Vyn. It was kindness, right? Perhaps a peace offering for bothering her earlier? Dove shuffled. Perhaps a bit of foolishness pooling to her face at her own thoughts. She paused.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, frowning.

"The entire camp seems to think I am either a ghost.. or a ghost doctor. Is there someone looking for me?"

There was a sharp urgency in her voice, her eyes flickering.

Perhaps there was a reason why her feathers stood on end after all.
 
Vyn didn't answer at first. Wasn't sure how to. Glanced back at the trees. Nothing moved. Not even the wind. Just a stillness. The coat still between them, heavy.

„You'll be safe.“ Said like a promise. Voice not of certainty, but of hope.

She let the coat fall onto the crate beside Dove instead. No need to force it further in her arms. „Kids talk. The Road is long.“ And often dull. „Sometimes they make ghosts where there aren't any.“ She wondered at that. „And sometimes they don't.“

„I don't know what you saw. But you're not the first to feel watched near those woods.“ She let her fingers mess in the mud briefly. It felt grounding. „If someone's looking for you, let 'em. They'll find me first.“ The moment became too heavy. Rejecting the weight much like Dove rejected the coat, Vyn couldn't keep still.

„'Sides, Jem owes me a favor. If I get ghost eaten, he has to do my chores for the rest of the season.“ The smile that followed was finally honest. A flicker of warmth.
 
A pause.

There was something hidden in her countenance. Something very severe beneath the calm of white. She didn't speak however, letting the air hiss out of her lips. "If someone is looking for me, I don't think they would need help finding me, Vyn." she frowned. After all- unfortunately, Dove did stick out like a sore thumb, especially here, in this group. Pale white, clean, hushed, feathers falling. And really, how many people matched a description much like hers?

She stood off the ground, leaving the herbs untouched. One hand reached to cup her other, rubbing her wrist, where a few patches of feathers lay. In an act to self soothe, she rubs, perhaps a bit too vigorously.

Still, warmth, heat. Passion. They bleed courage. Vyn's smile is met with a weak smile. Uneasy. Nervous. But, maybe, just maybe a little hopeful? Just maybe?

".. I think I should rest more. Or find somewhere quiet. There are a lot of people here. It is a lot to get used to." she nods.

Her eyes shoot to the green horizon, watching.
 
A nod. Face to the trees, but eyes on Dove. It wasn't the horizon she was worried about.

„I know it can be a lot.“ Voice settled again. Packed like dirt of the path. „You can go back to the Wagon. It's alright.“ She wouldn't add to take her time. Because time was limited. The Road was the Road.

„But the Road waits for no man.“ She repeated for both their sakes. A truth of the world.

The voices, the smells, the muddy boots. Sometimes it all felt too much. Even for Vyn. „No shame in needing a moment. Just don't miss the Wagons when they get rolling.“

And then, unless stopped, she'd be about her business. Leaving Dove to her rest.
 
She let Vyn walk away, her hands uneasily rubbing away at her wrists. Her hand anxiously plucks at the edge of those feathers, trying to release her anxiety in soft sighs. Her heart beating so quietly against her chest, she could feel it against her rib cage. The wind brushed gently against the locks, pushing a few stray hairs out into the wind, the scent of the rain promising a gentle day. Yet- still, she felt like prey. A prize waiting to be collected.

With a quiet step, she picked up the basket of herbs. Her gaze looked around, flickering with fear, clutching her chest, as if trying to grab something to hold onto for her dear life.

Eventually, she could hear the sound of laughter in the distance. Watching behind her, she dashes away. Perhaps she can get a good look of who was looking for her. Perhaps it was just a rumor. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. Sometimes people make up ghosts.

Sometimes they don't.

Nightmares fell into that category too. Sometimes they're real. Sometimes, they're not.

♦ FIN ♦
 
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