Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mable again found herself in a dream that was not quite a dream. It was unnervingly like reality, the warm carpet underneath her feet and the cold chill in the air making goosebumps rise on her skin as if she stood out in the hall on her own accord. Yet she was out there by some inner pull, a tug at her body that made her blearily walk down the hall and up the cold stone staircase. She passed by room after room, and wondered sleepily if anyone would pop their heads out to see the guest walking down the hall dressed only in her nightgown.

Her feet took her gradually towards the gallery once again, and Mable felt a small tingle of trepidation as the door opened on its own and she was led inside by that invisible force. It was dark in there, with no candles for light or warmth. She could barely make out the paintings before her. She knew that whatever force was pulling her would lead her where she secretly wanted to go, though Mable did wish that whatever it was could have done it when she was dressed in something warmer than a nightgown.

Mable let the invisible strings pull her, without even trying to wake up. It was odd, how calm she felt. Mable just let it pull her along, like child's marionette.

She half walked, half floated through the gallery until she reached the painting. She knew it would bring her here again, but felt awed by the sight of the piece of art. It was the same as ever, still as death but glowing with life. The picture indeed looked as lovely as it did when she had first arrived, and Mable knew deep within that despite the fact that she was shivering and her feet were chilled, she had wanted desperately for the chance to come back.

Mable, whether on her own accord or the invisible strings, placed her hand on the painting and for a brief moment she felt canvas against her fingertips, before her hand slid through. Mable stepped into the painting, and the stillness evaporated as if she had simple walked through a window. Flowers stood out, their colors diverse and vibrant. She savored the cool grass under her feet, and smiled at the ever-blue sky. Fat, puffy white clouds drifted merrily across the horizon, and a light breeze gently tugged her hair. She felt the dirt underneath her feet, and shuffled a bit so her feet would warm up on the soft earth. Mable looked down the worn path she had taken last time. Finally, the last of those invisible strings lifted from her body, and she journeyed into the woods.

She didn't know yet what she was looking for. Whatever magic was pulling her this way intended for her to walk into the painting. She was somehow waking in the middle of the night and coming here, to go through the painting and down the path. But for what reason Mable couldn't begin to guess.

She continued down the path, serene, occasionally stopping to stroke a flower or skim her hand over a tree. She laughed quietly when she heard the soft sounds of birds in the distance. She could see why Theo's mother would paint this place. It was easy to get lost in the paradise, forget all the troubles of the real world. It was safe here, no emotions to get in the way of peace. The jewel-like colors made a feast for the eyes. The perfume of flowers filled the air. It was as if every painful, horrible memory Mable could have would just dissipate underneath the scent of flowers and the kiss of the breeze. Mable knew that while she was painting, Liana had done nothing but dream of someplace where her pain would just disappear. Perhaps, Mable thought as she walked, that is why she could get through here. The castle did whatever the Lady wanted it to do, so if Lady Liana wanted a place to wander and leave her painful memories, then that is what it created. After tonight, Mable could sympathize with wanting a place made of perfection to escape from the hurt.

But now that she thought about it, the place wasn't all that perfect. There was no sun, even though it was as bright as day. There was no warmth really, just an absence of temperature that made her skin prickle. When Mable really listened to the animals, they sounded false, as if someone was playing a recording loudly. The grass was soft, but there was no scent, no earthy smells that made a forest truly paradise. The smell of flowers became too sweet after a while, and the feeling of dread started to creep into Mable's heart. It was all fake. Even on the inside, it was still just a painting.

As if the forest could read her thoughts, all the animal noises stopped.

Except for one.

Mable heard the wolf before she saw it. The snarls echoed oddly in this strange world and the howls filled the air with despair that didn't belong here. Mable hurried down the grassy pathway that led to the wolf. She saw it, grayish-brown and terrifying as it growled and sprang forward, only to be pulled back by the metal trap around its hind leg. It yelped and whimpered, turning its head to look back at the cruel thing that held its leg.

Mable watched it sadly from a distance, wondering when it would notice her and try to attack. It growled and snapped at the air again, its wretched sounds piercing her heart. Why hadn't she noticed that it needed help?

That was an easy answer. She had been too scared of this place, of the castle, to have any empathy for the creature. The wolf had seemed dangerous, and even though Mable had been trying anxiously to convince herself it was only a dream, it didn't stop her from running like a coward. Mable felt shame rise in her throat. She hadn't even tried to understand the wolf.

She had lost the fear she had before. Maybe that was why it was so easy to finally walk down; hands held out, palms facing upward, signaling kindness and compassion.

The wolf stopped snarling and thrashing to look at her, and for the first time she saw the hurt and desperation in its eyes. It panted for a moment, doing nothing more than watching her at first. Eventually it lay down as she approached, whimpering, and she soothingly petted its head. It licked her hands. Mable crooned to it and the wolf pressed its head into her palm, eyes gazing into hers with utter trust. Determined now, Mable grabbed the trap and started to pull, nearly wrenching her shoulder in the process.

The wolf watched, and didn't even bark when she jerked its leg. Mable grunted as she tugged at the metal jaws. It was starting to seem like she would never get it off, the stupid thing was so difficult. Mable took a deep breath, and pulled with all her might, the muscles in her arms screaming in protest. Thankfully with that one last, forceful pull, the trap opened and the wolf quickly snatched its leg away.

Mable's hands lost their hold, and with a terrible snap the trap closed on air. Mable glanced at her hands, and gulped. They were covered with fur and blood. Swiftly she wiped her hands on the grass, and smiled grimly when her hands were clean with only one swipe. Mable looked up and found herself nose-to-nose with the wolf. Gold eyes studied her, its mouth opened to display an impressive amount of teeth. It sloppily licked her face, and she laughed. She patted it on the head again, and it licked her hand. Its eyes seem to smile into hers, and with one last doggy kiss the wolf turned away from her. Limping it started to wander into the woods, but turned back to look at her.

Mable stood up but stayed where she was, shaking her head. She knew the wolf wanted her to follow it, but she couldn't. It felt as if she had done what she was meant to do. As if she had spoken, the wolf nodded, and closed its eyes to give one long howl. It echoed throughout the woods, beautiful and eerie. Mable closed her eyes and let the sound seep into her body, the fine hairs on her arm standing up at the cadence in the wolf's voice.

The wolf finally stopped its howling, and Mable opened her eyes reluctantly. She went to move away, back down the path she came from, but stopped when she saw that the wolf had started to convulse. With a silent scream, she went to help it, but was pushed back by an unseen force. Stiffly she fell on the ground, and could only watch in amazement as the wolf started to change.

Paws turned into golden hooves. Legs shot upward, and the body lengthened, becoming broader. A long gold tail and mane swept out from their hiding places. The wolf's tender ears enlarged, flicking back and forth. The wolf's snout shot outward, and the eyes grew bigger and gentler. The gray-brown fur seemed to simply fade away and turned an incandescent white. A gold, spiral horn grew out of the wide forehead.

The unicorn stood in the wolf's place, non-existent light catching the horn and making it glitter, and its white coat shining even brighter. It tested its leg gingerly, and snorted when it found that it was fully healed. The unicorn turned slightly to look her right in the eye. It stared at her for a moment, and reared. Mable could only manage one thrilled gasp before it bugled wildly and galloped off into the forest, leaving her alone.

Mable stood, watching the unicorn canter away, the desire to follow so strong it made her chest ache. But it was long gone before she could call out, to beg that it take her with it.

Mable sat in the grass, wishing for the first time that she could stay in the dream instead of waking up.