Oww!

I pick myself up from the floor, rubbing my shoulder which took the brunt of the fall.

Wonderful! Now, on top of everything else, I have sleepwalking to add to the mess!

And another changed dream.

This particular one used to just end as I made it through the doorway at the top of the stairs. It was always very frustrating when I woke up, having just climbed all that way, not to find out what was at the top. Now I know, but apparently there's now something else I have to struggle to get to, and this time it's not as simple as climbing stairs.

But that's not my main worry at the moment.

Another change in the space of two days: I really need to talk to Hoggle now!

I briefly contemplate calling him here and now, but it's nearly morning and Karen always wakes early on a Sunday to make us all a big breakfast. I sometimes get roped in to help and I don't really fancy her walking in on me talking to my mirror.

I listen for noises coming from the hallway or the other rooms; I just hear snores from Dad (I don't know how Karen copes) and snuffles from Toby's room. I'm still the only one awake. At least my meeting with the floor didn't disturb anyone else.

I focus on the noise from Toby: he's the most likely to be affected by anything supernatural, so I want to be sure he's not having any bad dreams either. That's if mine are exactly 'bad', they're more strange than anything else. He seems to be fine: even breathing, no sign of restlessness.

Good.

I hear a bird chirp across the street, probably just waking up to enjoy the good weather, and another slightly further away reply faintly. The trees and bushes rustle and swish in a sudden breeze, but I can still just about hear the birds carry on their melodic conversation.

I'm feeling something odd again, just like yesterday; something that's different, isn't normal, but – as before – I can't place what it is.

Another noise distracts me: the sound creaking of bedsprings from across the hall. That's Karen getting up to make breakfast. I'd better feign sleep if I want to avoid helping – I'm far too distracted to cook today without setting something on fire!

Slipping back under my covers, I get comfortable again as I carry on monitoring my stepmother's movements. Floorboards creak as Karen moves around, washing and getting dressed, then I hear her make her way across the landing to my door.

I shut my eyes and slow my breathing just as the door squeaks open. I can feel her eyes on me as she peers around the door's edge, but I keep my face straight and my breathing even. I hear her close the door again. Her footsteps head along the landing, then down the stairs to the kitchen; soon I can hear the clang of a frying pan being put on the stove and the hiss of the gas.

Although the 'danger' has passed, I carry on lying there as though asleep: it's easier to think with my eyes closed and no visual distractions.

What's wrong this time?

From looking around my room earlier, I know there's nothing different there and my eyesight hasn't gotten any better or worse since yesterday, but my instincts are still telling me there's something wrong with what my senses are telling me.

I listen to the house again, trying to pick out something – anything – different from the various noises reaching my ears.

There's the sizzling of a frying pan from the kitchen, the clink of knives and forks being retrieved from a drawer. No other noises from downstairs. I can hear Dad shifting around slightly – he'll probably be up soon – and Toby is still fast asleep. Nothing unusual at all.

I throw my covers off the bed, getting angry at myself.

Why am I being so dense?

I think back to what happened yesterday: today feels similar, so maybe there will be some clue there. The problem yesterday was my perfect eyesight. Nothing wrong or new around, just a change to me physically.

I wiggle my fingers and toes experimentally, as though there could be something different with them: nothing seems to be and – as I open my eyes to look at them – they look the same as well. Scanning over the rest of me reveals nothing else new either. A dash over to the mirror confirms there is nothing changed about my face or hair, just my normal, worried-looking reflection staring back at me.

OK, maybe a physical change isn't it. Let's think about this another way.

Back at my bed, I sit down and close my eyes once more.

Yesterday I could tell that there was something wrong with what my senses were telling me, but not that there was anything bad around me, just that how I was receiving the information was different. I was getting more – or clearer – information than before.

My eyes shoot open as I suddenly put together, just like yesterday, what's wrong.

I'm not getting any bad information from my senses, just more information!

I've been listening to the sounds of the house, and what's going on outside it, since I woke up. What I didn't even consider was that I was hearing more than usual!

The birds I heard earlier would normally have been muffled and almost unnoticeable, but there I was, hearing them clearly – even when the wind picked up! And the noises from around the house – since when could I hear Toby's breathing through nearly four inches of wall! Only if I had my ear pressed against it could I hear that well.

All my senses are sharpening, heightening, improving far beyond what I'm used to. I'm certain nearly all humans wouldn't be able to hear as I'm doing now.

I rush back to the mirror suddenly: remembering one thing Hoggle did mention to me – eons ago – about how fae achieve their greater – than humans at any rate – hearing ability. Not through magic or incredibly sensitive ear drums, but a small physical difference that draws soundwaves better into their ear holes.

I turn my head sideways slightly and slowly draw back my hair, to give me an unobstructed view of the side of my head.

There it is.

A physical difference I failed to notice on my swift once-over of myself.

Plain for all to see: my pale and delicate ear, in sharp relief against my almost black hair.

And particularly sharp now as, with my now unimpaired sight I can see, there's a slight but definite point to it.

Just like an elf.

Just like a fae.

This one wasn't too bad, only a little editing to do. And we've actually got some plot development!

Maybe one more chapter before bed...

PT66 - Update 10