"You are certain that you were wounded recently?" Curie asked. A frown creased her brow as she gently squeezed along Nora's shoulder, following the silver trail of scars that marred the skin. She watched for any signs of discomfort, but Nora exhibited none.
She just stared across the room, dull-eyed, stirring only at Curie's question.
"Like I said, I was attacked two nights ago," Nora answered. "Last night I thought I was dying of an infection, I felt so bad."
"If what you are saying is true, then something very strange has happened." Curie retrieved a thermometer from a surgical tray near the bed. When she held it to Nora's lips, Nora obliged, catching it under her tongue.
"Well, Madame, I can confirm that you do not have any physical wounds that require immediate treatment," Curie began in her French cadence. "There is heavy scarring where you say the animal attacked you. However, judging from the scar tissue it appears that they are very old wounds that have had years to heal."
"But dat'sh-"
"Ah! No speaking while the thermometer takes its reading!" Curie chided. "It could impact the results, or worse, you might drop it and I would have to seek out a replacement!"
Nora blew through her nose but fell silent.
Curie's clinic was set in one of Sanctuary's larger pre-war houses. The former master bedroom had been converted into a small ward, containing three narrow cots, a battered medical cabinet with a padlock, and some basic furnishings, most of which had either been scavenged or cobbled together by Sturges, the settlement carpenter and handyman.
One dresser had been filled with donated clothes, which, considering Nora's dramatic arrival that morning, was fortunate. She pulled up the shoulders of the dress that Curie had given her and buttoned up the front, concealing the two gold rings and holotags hanging from the chain around her neck.
Curie took the thermometer from Nora's lips and nodded to herself. "As I thought, your temperature is within normal parameters."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. Physically, you seem to be in good health. However, I am very concerned about your mental trauma."
Nora glanced away.
"Madame, you have already been through so much. I think that it is important that we discuss what has happened, that you may process your emotions in a healthy manner."
Nora rose to her feet, gathering Longfellow's coat from where it was draped over the bed. "Maybe later."
"But Madame, I really think-"
"I said later." Nora swept from the ward and out of the building, emerging into the bustling streets of Sanctuary. It had been some time since she had been there last, preferring to reside at her ranch in Sunshine, or else aboard the Prydwen.
Her steps faltered at the thought, her chest painfully tight. One hand rose to grip the holotags and rings through her dress. Two months. It had been two months since anyone had seen the Prydwen, and still nobody could find evidence as to the fate of the warship, or the hundreds of soldiers aboard it.
Including Danse.
Everyone save the Brotherhood remnants at Cambridge had written them off as dead. Many in the Minutemen ranks saw it as good riddance.
Nora swallowed, physically shaking the thought from her head. She'd return Longfellow's coat first and worry about everything else later. He'd left her in Curie's care while he went to radio Preston. She figured he'd either still be in the barracks or drinking at the local bar.
Each pre-war building she passed stood like a distorted memory, stained and rusted by time. Where once there had been lawns and flower gardens, there were now vegetable plots. Brahmin and radstags now grazed on the grassy slope where the neighbourhood children had played, while turrets gleamed along rooftops and the perimeter wall.
Nora's footsteps slowed as she drew near to one house in particular.
A derelict blue pre-fab, its windows boarded and doors padlocked shut. Once, that ruin had been her home, one of her pride and joys. After spending most of her twenties in a cramped downtown Boston apartment, living in a two bedroom house had seemed like a faraway dream – but Nate had spent all of his life savings to get them a new home. Subsidised by the army, of course.
But now their house was a ruin now, even by post-war standards. She had made it clear in no uncertain terms when the Quincy survivors had first moved in that she wanted it left undisturbed.
Despite the fact that Nora hadn't entered the house since she first left Sanctuary, it seemed that her request was still being honoured – no matter how selfish it was. Space in Sanctuary was at a premium, with shacks already built on any free land that wasn't set aside for crops or grazing. If she would allow it, her old home could shelter another family from the horrors of the wasteland.
But she wasn't ready to let go. Part of her doubted she ever would be.
Eager to put the old ruins of her life behind her, Nora turned off the road and decided to walk through the paddock instead. At least seeing the animals would bring her some peace of mind.
She was about to turn down an alleyway when a towering figure swept past her.
Nora blinked, turning to stare as the man strode into the street. He was bedecked in a gaudy suit of orange and purple, twirling a handsome walking cane in his hand. The silver head of it flashed with each rotation, and she could have sworn it was in the shape of a head whose expressions changed each time she saw it.
She blinked. He was garish and strange in the drab settlement, striding jauntily like a peacock amongst sparrows. Yet none of the nearby settlers reacted to him. They just continued their chores without comment, paying him no attention. Even a patrolling Minuteman passed him by without so much as a glance.
Her confusion became anxiety when he strode through her old front garden, straight up to the door. He rapped the head of his cane against the wood and the padlock fell away, the chain slithering behind it to coil neatly on the doorstep. The man disappeared inside.
Nora broke into a sprint, ignoring the curious looks she received as she raced along the sidewalk, up the overgrown path up to her doorstep. The door had been left slightly ajar so she threw it wide open, drawing to an abrupt halt at the threshold.
She couldn't see much beyond the light of the doorway, the heavy gloom alleviated only by the sunbeams that spilled through the porous ceiling. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door to allow her eyes to adjust.
Dread snaked in her gut as she discerned the silhouettes of furniture in the darkness. The couches that marked the lounge area, the island bar that bordered the kitchen. All reminders of the life she had lost when the bombs fell.
Nora tried to push the memories aside, her eyes scanning the room for the intruder. All was still, save for the dust motes waltzing in beams of sunlight. She stepped towards the darkened hallway, straining to hear even the faintest disturbance from the other rooms.
"Hello?" she called, her voice echoing in the stillness. "I saw you come in here. You're trespassing, so you'd better leave."
There was no response.
Nora set her jaw and prowled down the hall, sparing a brief glance into the cramped darkness of the utility room before checking the bathroom.
Her heart skipped at the sight of the grimy sink and mirror. Nate had spent most of their final morning speaking into that looking glass, his brown eyes anxious as he recited his speech again and again. He had only stopped when she had pulled him away by his hand, promising him it would be alright.
Nora felt her eyes grow hot. She turned sharply back to the hallway, fighting away the lump forming in her throat. She paused between the remaining doorways as she caught her breath, one hand worrying the fabric of the coat still draped over her arm. The master bedroom and Shaun's nursery were all that remained to explore.
She took a deep breath and stepped into the bedroom, scanning for any sign of the intruder. It was deserted, save for the splintered remains of her marriage bed and a pair of weathered dressers. She stepped with care through the darkness to check the built-in wardrobe, when a sound came from the hallway.
Nora jumped, whipping around to face the door. A soft, achingly familiar tune played in the quiet. Her nostrils flared, anguish and rage boiling inside her as she rushed towards Shaun's old nursery.
She took a few steps inside and stopped, staring around in confusion. The room was deserted. Her eyes fell upon the blue crib that still stood halfway across the room, the star and rocket mobile above it turning slowly, playing its lullaby.
"Hello?" Nora called again, checking her corners. The hairs prickled along the nape of her neck as she ventured deeper, searching for any trace of the stranger. The mobile slowed to stillness and the music stopped. But silence didn't fall.
She cocked her head, her eyes growing wide.
Nora. Nora...
She crept towards the crib, hardly daring to breathe.
The book lay at the centre of Shaun's crib. Despite the darkness, she could discern the ribs of its spine and the tentacled monster on the cover. The whispers grew louder as she looked upon it.
Nora reached out, trailing her fingers down the cover. It was warm. She traced over the image of the creature –- and something squirmed.
She jumped back with a gasp, but nothing happened. The book lay there, completely still. But the whispers were even louder.
Steeling herself, she tapped the book several times and even prodded the creature's many eyes, but nothing happened. Eventually, she gathered her courage and picked it up gingerly.
The tome was thick and heavy, far too large to be read comfortably in her hands, so she braced it on one arm and flipped the cover open.
Black runes covered the browned pages, and when she blinked, they began to move, shifting and coalescing into letters she could understand.
"'The Winds of Change,'" Nora read aloud, watching as more words began to form beneath the title.
The book jolted in Nora's hands. Her eyes widened as the pages flipped rapidly of their own accord and she stepped back, trying to drop it. Something warm and leathery wound tight around her arms, holding the book in place.
"What the hell?"
Nora thrashed, trying to throw the tome across the room but to no avail. The book flipped open to its centre, where the paper was completely blackened with ink. A mass of writhing black tentacles burst forth, seizing her head and shoulders.
She screamed, fighting as the book pulled her in. She thought she heard someone shout - and then her ears were filled with a deafening roar as she passed through the paper, into an abyss of swirling light.