He was in a new place, highlighted by purple. Mushrooms all around.
He wakes up. “Witch dream,” he mutters, looking over.
“The cat dreams, you dream,” she says, already involved in her morning reading. Not good today. The Sun. No Moon in sight. “See? Itchy also stirs below you at the same time. I’m sorry: *Scratchy*. Do you remember Scratchy?”
I sit up, trying to remember how I got here. True, I was walking toward the place, then…”
“Trying to recall?” she guessed correctly. “I had to bring you here to replace Duncan. Duncan doesn’t need to return to these woods. His karma is done with it, George (ward) too — Buster be damned.”
I sat up more, straightened out my spine to aid my aching neck. That couch — not what I would have chosen to sleep on. Thanks witch! My day starts out not well. “Buster… Damm?” I reply, trying to get my bearings.
“Yeah, um, Tussock — his home of course — right next door. We’re in Hooktip. In the woods. I have a house here as well, but I keep cracking all the mirrors there. Forest is better when I’m in these kind of states. I seem to have the worse luck lately. And *here*…” she points down toward the cards. “The *Sun* of all things, the *opposite* of what I desire.”
“The Who?” I say back.
The witch, who is of course a new advancement of Alysha, even further beyond child now, looks over. Precisely what I would have said in your position, she realizes. They are one. And she also understands the reading is for him, not her. “How’s your neck?” she asks after turning over the next card. Maybe there’s hope for this day after all.
Sunklands 