A/N: This chapter was supposed to be part of chapter two, but the chapter was getting a bit on the long side, so I chopped it into two chapters.
::~*~::
Dinner lasted far longer than Sarah had planned on, but the time had just been gobbled up as she had had her first lengthy conversation where Karen was concerned. She wondered why this easy interaction hadn't occurred sooner, but ashamedly recalled that it was her own fault for the most part. Dragging tired feet into her bedroom, she audibly groaned when she saw the mess all over the place. She still had so much to do, but she couldn't figure out where she was going to find the energy to accomplish even packing one more box.
A low whistle came from behind her and she turned to see her father peering over her shoulder into the room. "Well, if we start with the bed, that'll give you somewhere to sleep when packing gets to be too taxing."
"'We?'" she replied skeptically.
"Of course! It's not every day I get to help my favorite daughter pack up her room and send her out into the real world."
"I'm your only daughter," Sarah said while stepping into the room and navigating her way around towers of boxes and piles of clutter.
"That you know of," he said, following her into the room.
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her father in horror. "Kidding!" he quickly said, a grin on his face.
"That was not funny! At all." Sarah went back to navigating her way over to the chair in front of her mirror.
"What? You don't think I sowed some wild oats in my youth?"
"Dad!" she shrieked, covering her face with her hands as she felt the flush of embarrassment creep over her. "I may be an adult now, but there are some things I should never, ever, ever, hear. Your sex life is at the very top of that list."
"It's a good thing I'm only joking then. Now, on to business. What can I help with?"
It took a moment for Sarah to regain her composure enough to look Robert in the face, and even then, she couldn't look him in the eyes for very long. Pointing to a large pile of boxes, she said, "Those can be donated to charity."
"Perfect!" he replied, bending over to pick a box up.
Noticing which one he was going for, she cried, "Not that one! I haven't gone through that one yet." He set it back down on the floor and moved his arms over to another. Hovering over it, he slowly reached down, keeping his eyes on his daughter to see if he was going for the right one this time. When she didn't say or do anything, he hoisted it into his arms, grunting slightly at the unexpected weight of it.
"As soon as Karen gets Toby into bed, she said she would come in and help if you need it."
Sarah slid off the chair and crawled across the floor to the box her father had relinquished. "Great!" she replied as she opened the box. Robert disappeared out the door and down the hallway, whistling quite poorly to a song that was currently popular on the radio.
Sarah started pulling items out of the box. Most of this stuff was stuff she had enjoyed when she was still in the single-digit age of life and she was surprised she hadn't gotten rid of them a long time ago. "Maybe Toby would appreciate something in here," she said to herself just as she pulled out a bright pink tutu from her ballet days. Probably not that, she thought as she laughed to herself and tossed the tutu into the donation pile. Digging ever deeper, her hands found the oldest blanket she owned, a blanket that had been knitted with love and care by her grandmother and bestowed upon her when she was born. Her fingers lovingly caressed the soft fabric. Standing up, she reached down and pulled the blanket out, shaking it open. Her mouth dropped open in horror as something came flying out of the folds and crashed right into her vanity mirror before dropping to the table. Dropping the blanket back into the box, she rushed over to the mirror to make sure it hadn't cracked from the impact. After determining the mirror was fine, she dropped her eyes to the offending object.
A book that she hadn't seen in years lay innocently on the vanity's top, the very sight of which sent a shiver down her spine, though she couldn't understand why. She frowned. She remembered that she had loved the book, but for all the thought she put forth, she couldn't remember what the book was about. Her fingers traced the title embossed in gold on the front cover.
"One down and countless more…" her father's words trailed off as he stepped into the room and saw her holding the book. "Wow, it's been a long time since I've seen that book in your hands." He leaned down to pick up another box. "There was once a time that I couldn't pry that book from your fingers." He started out of the room, but Sarah called him back.
"Why did I stop reading it?"
He shrugged the best he could with the box in his arms. "One morning you told me about a very vivid dream you had, where you actually lived the events from the book. I think you actually believed it had really happened. After that morning, you never mentioned it again and I never saw you with that book again." He left the room, but Sarah hadn't failed to notice how uncomfortable her question had made him. She set the book down on her nightstand and turned back to the very pressing packing concern. Magic doesn't exist. That must have been some dream if I thought it was real.
::~*~::
It was nearing ten at night when Sarah finally crawled into her bed. Once her father had carried all the boxes downstairs, her room looked so empty. It didn't even look like her room anymore. She felt like a stranger within its four bare walls. With Robert and Karen helping her, they had quickly sorted the remaining boxes into piles of what she needed immediately and what could wait for the weekend when she would be back for the next load. At least then, Robert, Karen, and Toby would be traveling to her apartment with her with the intent of finding her some inexpensive furniture to decorate with. They had already bought her a queen-size bed as a housewarming gift for her which was set to be delivered the following day.
Sarah tried to suppress a yawn as she slipped out of her jeans. She was too tired to dress in proper sleepwear but fully content to sleep in just her shirt. Luckily the weather was warm enough that she didn't really need pajama bottoms on. She moved over to the window and opened it, letting the gentle breeze cool her flushed skin. She hadn't thought that she could work up a sweat packing boxes, especially when it was her father that was carrying them up and down stairs, but the beads of sweat told another story.
Inhaling deeply, she detected moisture in the late summer air and was certain that a storm was brewing. She hoped it would at least wait until the morning as she had no desire to close the window for the night. Better yet, hopefully it held off until she had gotten her emptied into her apartment the following day. The almost-full moon bathed the lawn below in silver light. Sarah yawned again and turned to leave the window when something brilliantly white caught her eye. In the branches of the tree, right outside her window, a snowy white owl was perched. Its head kept twisting every which way as it appeared to be checking out the environment. It finally stopped when it noticed Sarah staring at it. It cocked its head to the side and softly hooted. Sarah suddenly had second thoughts about keeping the window open.
As if she thought the bird could actually understand her, she shook her finger at it and said, "You stay out there. No flying in my window tonight." The owl softly hooted again, but didn't move. Sarah bit her lower lip as she watched it. As tired as she was, she didn't want to go to bed with that bird so close to her open window, but she also didn't want to close the window. The air smelled so sweet and the breeze was the perfect temperature for an August evening. Hoping to frighten the bird away by staring it down, she leaned on the window frame and stared intently at it for several moments. I must be more tired than I thought, she mused. I'm engaging in a staring contest with a creature that doesn't even understand the concept of one.
Growing bored, she slid the window closed enough to where the bird couldn't get in, but open enough so she wasn't deprived of the fresh air. Switching off the light, she slipped under the bedcovers. Outside, she could faintly hear the owl hooting ever so softly. Turning onto her side, she watched the moonlight as it filtered through the window. The letters from the title of the Labyrinth book glistened in the silvery moonlight. Despite being incredibly tired only moments before, she now had a burning desire to revisit the world contained within the pages of the little red book. She wanted to remember why she had been so fascinated with the book years before. Turning on her bedside lamp, she plumped up her pillows behind her and settled back to read.
::~*~::
Samantha stood in the entryway of her father's castle as the owl flew around her head before fleeing into the stormy night through one of the high-arching windows. A flash of lightning illuminated the darkened chamber, followed rapidly by a crash of thunder. Samantha held her brother closer to her chest as the rain continued to beat upon the parapets of the ancient castle, the sound thunderous in her ears. Returned safely to her home, with her brother in her care, she was still finding the events of the evening difficult to accept. Knowing it would take weeks to unravel the mysteries of this adventure, she took heart in knowing that she had won her brother's freedom back. She had bested the Goblin King and he had restored everything to what it had been before. The only reminder of the whole evening's adventure was a solitary white feather from the owl's plumage that was lying on the stone floor.
A snow white owl? Sarah thought. She leapt out of the bed and hurried to the window, flinging it open wide. Leaning out, her eyes scanned the darkened foliage of the tree. The owl that had taken up residence earlier was long gone, but her eyes continued searching as far as she could see. Slightly disappointed, she turned back to her bed. The little alarm clock on her nightstand read 12:04AM. Isn't that the bewitching hour? When magic happens? She turned out the light and flopped back onto her bed. In the darkness, she could make out the shape of the book on her nightstand. It was so strange. As she had been reading, she could almost see the scenes unfolding in her mind's eye, down to even the most minute detail. Fragments of a broken dream from long ago, now floating upon the waves of memories that were surfacing after years of slumber within the depths of her mind. With these fragments to occupy her mind, she slipped into a deep sleep.