Three men slipped into the barn. Wearing identical tight black T-shirts tucked into cargo pants and polished black boots, they looked vaguely military and powerful. Dylan raised a finger to his lips, motioning for her to keep quiet. The men peeked into the horse stalls and poked around, lifting crate lids and kicking at the hay.
Aspen drew a sharp breath and held it as one of the men came close to where they were hidden. In the dim violet light, he looked in their direction with eyes that were completely black. No white was visible around the iris at all. Dark hair, an aquiline nose, and ghostly-pale skin made him look intimidating, and he seemed to stare straight at her. She froze instantly.
After lifting a rusty pitchfork from the wall, he stabbed at the hay in front of them with deep jabs. A scream worked its way up her throat, but Dylan squeezed her arm and she kept quiet. The man stopped suddenly as someone called, and he turned toward the door. With one last look over his shoulder in their direction, he dropped the pitchfork and strode out of the barn.
Aspen relaxed her fingers, which had been clenched into fists throughout the ordeal, and exhaled slowly. Dylan motioned for her to keep quiet, then released his grip on her and rose silently from the haystack. Her body quivered from the shock of what had just happened, and he reached out to help her stand.
“Don’t worry, they’re gone,” he said softly, his breath feathering against her cheek. “Calm down. See? The sky is changing, so they have to leave.”
The darkness had receded and as she looked up, a soothing yellow light took its place.
What a strange dream.
Dylan brushed pieces of hay from her clothing as she stepped away from the haystack. She shook her hair and pulled at stubborn sticks clinging to her braid. Wait, was her hair braided? No way.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You can’t use your powers just before Lavendula. Don’t you know that? It’s dangerous and the Chancellors will find you.” His eyes were stony as he glared at her.
“Lavendula—my powers—what on earth are you talking about?” Shrugging her shoulders, she stared back at him.
“Hmm. I suppose you don’t know about that yet, do you?” Dylan walked to the door and she hurried to follow him.
“Come, it’s safe. We’ve got some time before Lemona ends. I’ll show you where I live.”
“Hold on one second, I need some answers here.” Following his retreating figure, she called after him and lifted her long skirt. Great, boots and a long skirt. Couldn’t she dream up a better wardrobe?
She walked behind him into a wide sandy street, inhaling deeply when she noticed the pleasant scents of apple pie and popcorn filling the air. Large crowds of people walked about normally, and she sighed, relieved that it was safer outside.
A small child raced down the road, ignoring his parents who called after him. Aspen smiled at the sight, then was jolted when Dylan pulled her back to avoid being run over by a horse-drawn cart. The large beasts stomped their hooves proudly as they trotted past, their muscles twitching and glistening with sweat as the cart creaked and groaned behind them. His hand lingered for a second on her arm, and she shivered at the fire that spread in her veins from his touch.
“You have horses here?” she asked.
“We don’t use cars in Lanta. We prefer to live a more rustic lifestyle.”
“No cars, huh?” My dream gets better every minute, she thought sardonically.
Trailing behind him, she saw busy stores with shop owners who proudly displayed their wares. Tables of plump, juicy fruit and sun-ripened vegetables were arranged under colorful canopies. Candies and chocolates were spread out on other tables, while pretty trinkets and sparkly jewels adorned cloths covering the pavement. A cobbler displayed row upon row of boots in front of his store.
“Boots seem to be in fashion here,” she remarked.
“Yes. In Lanta, the heavier the soles, the better.” He pointed to her shoes. “You should get a pair like that when you get home.”
“No way. I’ll be happy not to see these again.” Grimacing, she lifted her skirt slightly to stare at the black boots she’d found on her feet. “So, who were those men in the barn?”
Dylan glanced back at her. “They’re called Chancellors.”
“Why were they hunting us? I was so scared. When that guy picked up the fork, I wanted to scream.”
He stood still and waited for her to catch up with him. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know that you’d be here so soon. I wasn’t expecting you.” Turning around, he walked away and she had to hurry to keep up with him.
After leaving the town, they headed toward rows of cottages nestled along a grassy hill. The dream was peaceful now and she tried to enjoy the rest of it while it lasted.
“The houses look really cute.” She smiled and forgot about her shoes and the evil men with pitchforks.
“Look at the one with the chimney smoke. That’s mine.” He pointed at a white house with a red roof. A picket fence surrounded it.
Walking up to the fence, he opened the small gate and faced her. “Be careful of Goldilocks.”