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Chapter 1    Chapter 2    Chapter 3    Chapter 4     Chapter 5     Chapter 6     Chapter 7     Chapter 8     Chapter 9     Chapter 10
"Tremarch."
"Ahmgh?" I shot my head up from my bowl of steaming stew. Eyebrows pressed, cheeks inflated, lips also pressed. Trying to keep the solids in, not succeeding so well with the liquids.
"My name is Tremarch. Tremarch Jungor. What's yours?" I forced back my mouthful. Tender meat becomes a sandbag when you swallow too much. I coughed some back up and gagged. Tremarch smiled and waited patiently. Good thing for him this wasn't a random suicide attempt.
"Sally Jones." My voice collapsed halfway through the words and hot tears squeezed out of my eyes. Partially from my attempt at mass swallowing, partially because I'm a bad liar.
"Well, miss Sally Jones," Tremarch leaned forward and rested his palms beneath his beard. I was half expecting him to ask why I lied about my name, but even if he knew I was lying, why would he care? "What are you doing out here in the middle of the nowhere?" I rolled my spoon around in my mouth, staring up at the candle lit chandelier. It's light streaked through my bangs and coated them with an autumn red.
"Nothing much... Just getting out in the world." I turned my gaze directly at him. "What about you? What are you doing in the middle of nowhere? If you break your hip your screwed, you know." Tremarch lifted his wooly chin and laughed. I stretched my legs and tilted my chair, returning my gaze to the chandelier. The kitchen had a fireplace glow just like the living room. The whole house was possessed with a curiously consistent sunset atmosphere.
I'm stuffed.
"I'm a lumberjack," he revealed, "I live where the merchandise is. More soup?" "... sure." Tremarch smoothly grasped my bowl from the bottom and lifted it to the large cauldron in the middle of the table. The table wasn't round. Octogon-ish. I didn't bother to count its sides. There were probably more than eight. The cauldron was built right into the middle of the table. Held above hot coals by a hoist, much like a wishing well without walls. This house looks way too big and elaborate for just one old man. "Half, please." He spooned me a ladel full of stew and gently returned the bowl perfectly to its circle of stew-spill beneath my chin. "So if you have merchandise, you must have clients. What kind of business do you get out here?"
"Oh, no one comes out here to purchase my lumber, but my clients prefer that this is where I live. They protect me as long as I work soley for them. Once every month, approximately, I go to town and deliver their goods."
"So there is a town nearby? What kind of clients don't want you expanding your business?"
"Not necessarily nearby, about half a day's walk, and it's not as it sounds. Working in a limited market makes me feel very special." The old man smiled but his eyes somehow seemed sullied. "Not that I wouldn't give it up. Another time around."
Whatever, old men eyes always look like that.
"Half a day, eh? I can be out of your hair by tomorrow then."
"Oh! You'd better let me escort you if you plan on going through the forest. Even experienced explorers have been known to get lost in these woods. This house is fairly close to the edge of the forest but you're still rather lucky to have spotted it. I'll have my shipment loaded up and ready to go in a couple days."
"Pehhh." I let out a breath of frustration. "Alright. Another companion. But I'll be fine on my own once we exit the forest, right?"
"Well... you'd best let me escort you right into town. After the forest, there's still a couple miles before we come in contact with any kind of population."
"Fair enough." I dropped my spoon into my stew. I'd only taken one bite. Hands on the table, I pushed the chair back with my calves, stood up and walked out through the living room.
I'm way too full to sleep.
"If you want to go to bed, feel free to take any of the rooms upstairs. And don't worry about extra blankets, this house stays pretty warm." I could feel Tremarch's smile through his words, humming in the rims of my ears.
Does he keep the fire on all night?

The lights were off but even in my room, farthest in the back of the attic, fireplace reflections were still bouncing off the polished wood. It was fairly bright compared to outside, but not at all irritating. My full stomach weighed down on my hips as I rested my crossed arms on the wide rims of a large diamond shaped window overlooking the backyard. My mouth pressed between my wrists as I supported myself on my elbows. Making squishy faces. Outside, the whole house seemed to glow, even the small toolshed had a slight aura from Tremarch's oil lamp. I could see him rumaging around outside. Waddling back and forth between the shed and the outhouse a few times, sitting on the doorstep to smoke a pipe, eventually entering the shed and closing the door. He was the one who seemed to jump at the idea of sleeping in the shed, so I didn't mind taking over the entire house. I wouldn't mind doing some exploring, if I wasn't so tired. I wouldn't mind going to sleep if my stomach would just settle down. I flopped over my shoulder onto the bed in the corner of the room. Side against the wall, pillow by the window, feet towards the door. There were only a few linen sheets to sleep in, but Tremarch was right, it was plenty warm. I sprawled my arms and legs over the sides of the bed and stared at the waves in the wood ceiling, recollecting the day, questioning tomorrow. Erasing my head and thinking it all over again. I felt really... expanded. Like my body was attempting to dissipate into the night atmosphere and my consciousness disappear. Only the weight in my belly seemed to be holding me back.
It's at the end of the day where there is no God. Just before you fall asleep when you don't want there to be any kind of eternity.
Thinking that way makes me feel kind of guilty, but I don't think I can help it. Where does a thought like that come from? My mom certainly wouldn't approve.
That's enough for today. Time is up.