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  WILDEST DREAMS

  Wildest Dreams

  FAITH ELLIS

  Faith Engen Ellis

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all of my wonderful friends who have supported me along this journey and support me in every single thing I do, always. You know who you are and I love you!

  Chapter 1 Andryad

  The night air bleeds through the thin windows, cov- ering our tiny bedroom in a layer of dry early-summer warmth. This is a welcome comfort since my foster parents have an infatuation with maintaining a tem- perature below sixty-five degrees inside the house. Meredith, my foster mom, has been going through hot flashes recently, which can make her extremely cranky and uncomfortable.

  My eyes are heavy with exhaustion. The lumpy mat- tress creaks under my shifting weight as I roll onto my side to stare at Halsey in her own bed, tucked under covers pulled up to her chubby chin, a ratty off-white stuffed rabbit clenched in the crook of her elbow. The young girl's brown hair is in its usual mess of tangles around her face. Large eyes dart back and forth, glow- ing a little from the dim light the lamp cascades over the table by her bed, in search for my own open eyes. My body braces for her voice, and my breathing sounds loud in my ears; I wait expectantly for her to speak.

  "Andryad, why can't we get new blankets?" she whispers loudly, meeting my eyes. Halsey is my ten-

  year-old foster sister. She's been here a few months longer than I have. Although it has been difficult for me to open up to the Kents, Halsey has made it easy for me to like her, even to care about her, because of her intense curiosity and her goofy grin. She has a nat- ural ability to accept me as I am.

  When I first met Halsey, I wondered how she would feel about someone else coming into the Kents' lives. But I quickly learned that the Kents paid Hal little attention. Desperate for attention, she talked to me openly, curious about every detail of myself, although I had little information to give her. There are too many missing parts of my life. But Halsey didn't mind. She was excited to have a sister. She became the first per- son who cared about me, and that made my heart swell with a sweet affection for her in turn.

  Tugging the thin sheet around my shoulders like a cloak, I push up onto my elbows and lean against the wall at the head of my bed. As I exhale, my fingers brush the auburn curls out of my face. "If the Kents would just turn down the damn AC—" I whisper ur- gently.

  "You said a bad word!" Her voice cuts through the room in accusation.

  I ignore her. "You know Meredith won't allow us to mess with the thermostat, and she doesn’t want us to open the windows. She gets so hot and cranky. Do you want to get yelled at, Hal? Over blankets?"Her eyes glance away, and I ask, "Is my blanket not helping?" My top quilt is far thicker than either of our sheets.

  The cold doesn't bother me as much as it does her. The Kents pay her so little attention, my heart aches for her, and although I am only seventeen, Halsey de- serves a figure in her life to care about her, snuggle her, and play with her. She has been very open about her past. Halsey never knew her mother and desper- ately wants to be adopted into a loving family, but she knows it is unlikely. Families want babies, not ten- year-olds.

  Movement catches my eye as Halsey's feet appear from under the covers, and she frowns. "It helps, I guess."

  Light laughter pulls up from my throat. "Then why are you sticking your feet out where they're going to get cold?"

  "I feel like they're tight." Halsey sticks out her lip in a very five-year-old kind of way. My head aches, and I roll my eyes, making the pain worsen, but a slight smile tugs at my mouth.

  "Hals, c'mon, I have to work in the morning, and we both need some sleep. I don't feel good." My body be- gins to melt down the wall and sink deeper into the ratty mattress. The worn-out feeling that has shackled my limbs these past few days is taking a toll.

  "But I want a story!"

  "Oh, Hal, not tonight. C'mon, please?" Two small feet push down the covers nearly onto the floor, and my body shoots upright, my skin prickles with anxiety. Though the Kents have never laid a hand on us, hearing Meredith's shrill voice is enough for me to stay out of

  her way. Her husband Kevin is a small, quiet man. He works late most nights and speaks only a handful of words to me in a week. Space between us is heavily maintained. They keep strict rules about us staying busy with work and school.

  It can be a solitary life because their rules cause me to usually just stay at the diner where I work. It is as though too much of our presence annoys them and they don't want to be bothered with parental responsi- bilities. Halsey and I often gossip that they only have us to collect government checks, but it has been sort of out of sight, out of mind.

  My body is heavy with resistance, wanting nothing more than to drift to sleep, but Hal loves stories, and they make her drowsy. The thin cover barely makes a sound as I lift it away, groaning loudly. The cool air rushes over me and the chilly wood floor sends goose- bumps up my spine. Wrapping into the softness of my long-sleeved pajamas, I clear the floor from my bed to hers in two strides. Her thicker covers radiate warmth as I slide them back up and scoot in beside her, mold- ing my thin frame to her short, soft round body. She huddles close to me, both of us balancing on either edge of the small bed.

  In another life, she really could be my sister. My family. A mother would be in between us, and we would be giggling and smiling or snuggling together, huddled next to each other in a deep sleep. But that isn't our life, and suddenly I feel a stab of jealousy for every other kid who is living that reality.

  "Have I ever told you how they found me?" I start. "No one knows where I come from, not even myself; I just showed up one day. The night I was discovered was blurry, foggy like a window in the early morning. My memories were on the other side of the glass. I could almost make them out, but they were unclear, as if a shadow or an image interfered. The alleyway was dark, and a sheen of frost covered the ground around me. I recall a shimmer hung momentarily on the stone wall beside where I was leaning. It rippled slightly, like wa- ter, and then disappeared, reshaping to solid stone like the rest of the wall. Nestled on either side of me sat two tin trash cans that reeked with an overpowering smell of old cheese gone sour. Being near them made me feel weak, tired, and sick."

  Halsey huffs as I continue. "Dim light peeked out from down the alley, lining an empty asphalt street in front of me with red and blue lights that sparkled through toward my position. A strong whiff something like pine and smoke tempted my nose. It reminded me of a forest and campfire together. When I gained more clarity, a tall man in a navy-blue uniform was slowly crouching near my side, and a short, broad woman in a similar uniform was talking into a black box she held in one hand. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, low bun. They asked me so many questions that I had none of the answers to. Things like ‘Where are your parents?’ and ‘Are you hurt?’

  The only thing I could answer was my name. Confu- sion muddled my thoughts and panic rose in my chest,

  but the officers assured me they were there to help. Subconsciously, my hand rose to touch an opal stone embedded in my throat. Other than the gossamer lay- ers I was dressed in, that was all I had with me. While my name was stuck in my brain, the officers had asked if I had any identification. For a moment my mind raced with what they meant. I just shook my head."

  "This story is boring," Halsey whines.

  I sigh. She’s heard this story plenty of times; her disinterest doesn’t bother me. "What kind of story do you want?"

  "Something with a good ending!"

  "Okay, fine." I think while I fight the few bits of my past that resurface in my mind.

  My legs had wobbled as they helped me stand. My skin still held a light dusting of the frost that sur- rounded me on the grou
nd. The male officer looked at it oddly, but he didn't question it as they guided me to their car: black, sleek, and totally unmarked. The car was quiet except for an occasional female voice com- ing from a little speaker on the dash talking in codes I didn't understand, numbers.

  As we drove, they said we needed to go to the hospi- tal. My arms wrapped around my body in a hug, trying to turn inward and make myself as small as possible. When the car parked in front of a massive beige-col- ored building with the word “Emergency” in large red letters, dread coiled in my gut as the fear and uncer- tainty set in.

  The officers led me inside to a pristine room with a lot of chairs, but it was empty. Only one other person sat against the far wall. While I sat down in a cushioned vinyl chair that creaked against the smallest move- ment, the male officer walked away to speak with the woman at the front desk and the female officer sat in the chair beside me. Without any memory about who I was, where I'd come from, or how I got to be in the alleyway, without any form of identification, the process was long and exhausting. The wait only frayed my nerves further as I kept mindlessly fingering the stone at my throat. Numbness spread through me as time dragged on.

  When my name was finally called, I followed a short woman with graying hair behind double doors as she led me through beige-colored hallways with squeaky white-tiled floors and into a small room. The room was freezing, and that mixed with the nerves crawling across my skin caused me to shiver uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. Waiting for the doctor, my feet tapped restlessly before pacing back and forth. Finally, I made an awkward attempt to sit on the weird bed in the middle of the room. The paper crumpled loudly as I scootched up. It bunched and creased with the mo- tion just as the doctor came in, and I froze.

  That night was the longest, scariest moment ever. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong with me. He admitted he wasn't certain what caused the amnesia. There were no signs of head trauma, the stone in my throat they determined to be a typical dermal piercing

  about the size of a thumbtack, and other than stress, everything came back normal. They determined my age to be about sixteen, and there was no other option but to place me with social services. There was an im- mediate opening with a foster family in the area, and I have been with the Kents and Halsey ever since.

  As I touch the stone now, Hal snuggles deeper into my side, elbowing my ribs. "Once upon a time," I nar- rate in a musing tone. I have the perfect fantasy story to tell her since real life no longer holds her interest.

  My first night since being found in the alley and every night after that, I've dreamed about this incred- ible place where all kinds of creatures roam. I call it Faeryland because it reminds me of some of Hal's sto- ries about faeries and elves. There are awful creatures, goblins and redcaps, who are more than manipulative or mischievous. Each dream is a new experience, from lounging in colorful meadows to hiding from the red- caps in a tricky forest.

  “There was this beautiful castle that sat in a great expanse of open green grass under a shining sun, over- looking gardens flowing with fountains and every va- riety of flower imaginable. The sun was different here than in reality. More authentic, as though here in this world, it ruled and made the real sun in the human world feel like a lightbulb in comparison.

  “A beautiful woman with long silvery hair laughed with a strong man who wore a crown of vines atop his head. There was a little girl with piercing blue eyes, like the woman's, weaving in and out of their legs, giggling

  with happiness as the family walked among the metic- ulously manicured gardens. The two must have been her parents. But they weren't a man and a woman ex- actly. Their skin shimmered inhumanly, and their ears peeked out from their hair and ended in fine points, even the child's, who had shorts tufts of hair on the tips. They were Fae.”

  My voice stops just before the prince goes in for a kiss. Halsey's snoring fills the room. She is finally asleep. Her dark lashes rest against chubby cheeks, and her mouth opens, resulting in a phlegmy noise that sounds like she's having a hard time breathing. Frowning, I slowly slide away from her side and tuck the blankets around her. I switch off the lamp, and the room is doused in moonlight that spills across the hardwood floor like a river to guide me back to my own bed. Within moments, my eyelids get heavy, my breathing evens, and sleep consumes me.

  Chapter 2 Andryad

  The trees streak by in a blur as my feet pound against the ground and my footsteps echo in my ears. They crunch on fallen branches and leaves that litter the terrain. Fire licks up my throat, with each breath more urgent than the last, and sweat pools on my back and my neck, cooling me as I run harder.

  Faeryland again fills my dreams. My legs pump at a speed that no human should be capable of. Pulling the air in through my nose, I push it with force through my mouth, gaining an extra boost of energy. My paja- mas flap loosely around my legs, and the sleeves bil- low against my arms as they pump harder and drive my body forward. The speed forces my hair back, out of my face, and the sweat makes my clothes heavy and clingy. The limbs in my path batter my bare feet. Every step I take shreds my skin on stray stones as I leap nimbly over tree roots. My mind rallies to determine my next move.

  Rhythmic panting vibrates the air behind me, gain- ing speed and inching closer. Heavy paws beat against the ground, revealing the size and agility of the beast.

  The space is dark, but everything is clear to my eyes, as if it were daylight. The thing behind me has no is- sues seeing in the dark either. because it is not letting up and feels close to my heels. Skidding slightly, my footing slips in a spot that I pray is mud. Something squishy lodges between my bare toes. The forest is silent aside from our heavy breathing and footfalls.

  The dreams of Faery provide me with what I need, the speed and stealth, the ability to see in the dark. While my legs are quick, so is the creature, his heavy paws thumping closer and closer. He has the body of a wolf, though it looks triple the size of any wolf I have ever seen on TV or heard about in books. It darts nimbly in and out of the trees to my right. Its ra- zor-sharp claws are huge, and in its mouth are a double set of drooling, shredding teeth. It looks like a cusith, but it should be in the mountains, not here in the for- est.

  My lungs tighten as if captured in a fist. Each breath pierces them with a burning sensation. The panting coming from his wide mouth sounds even as though he has energy still to burn. My eyes scan every inch of the forest while I wrack my brain on what to do, a place to hide, some way to lose this monstrosity.

  Knowing he is too strong and could hold out longer, panic rises, constricting my chest as the smell of sweat seeps into my nostrils. Just as my breathing grows un- even, my eyes sift through the darkness of the forest and land on a ripple, a sparkle in the air up ahead be- tween two massive trees twining around each other

  near their tops. In Faery, there are often veils that I find. These near-invisible ripples in the land lead to other parts of the realm, like a portal. Veils look as though water was suspended in the space, hanging like a curtain, and there is one just a little way in front of me, calmly flowing around the bend.

  To throw the beast off, I pivot sharply to my left, my heartbeat frantic in my ears, before jumping onto a rock. Heavy paws near behind me; if I look back, I fear I will freeze. It's so close I swear its hot breath is on my neck, huffing in puffs. I push off the rock with all of my might, jumping straight through the space between the trees. My knees remain slightly bent as I brace for impact and land hard in a grassy meadow full of light, rolling a few times before coming to a stop. The land- ing still reverberates in my bones.

  If my guess is right, the creature cannot see the veil. He doesn't possess the same abilities as I do. My breathing is heavy and hard as the moments tick by for a beat, two, before my hands push into the grass and I straighten. Realizing the creature is in fact left in the forest, the tension releases from my joints and I in- hale a deep, calming breath before looking around at my new surroundings.

  Here the sun blazes over wild
flowers, blooming and fragrant. A complete opposite to the dark and damp forest I just flung myself out of. It is pretty and peace- ful, with a strong smell of grass and a beautiful, cloud- free sky painted around me. My eyes follow the meadow as far back as I can see. The flat land offers

  a broad view, though the tall grass covers most of it. A murmuring breeze shifts over me, cooling the sweat that is now drying at the nape of my neck. A brook chatters a few yards away, bouncing out a quiet song as I brush off my fleece pants and survey my battered feet. The water would be a welcome relief to soothe the burning scratches.

  As I wade through the grass, my eyes catch on the shadow by the tree line, stopping me dead in my tracks. The hairs on my arms rise at attention as I watch closely, every nerve in my body electrified as the air stills. The shadow shifts, moving fully into view, and a sigh of relief exspends from my lungs as the mas- sive black horse shakes his luscious mane, whinnying leisurely. He is larger than a Clydesdale, with glossy black fur and massive hooves. The horse is in every single one of my dreams, but he always runs if I get too close. He isn't a mean creature. There's never been a moment where fear crept into my bones when I am around him. Truthfully, he just seems curious, stand- ing far enough away to be unbothered as I continue on to the stream.

  The scent of wet rocks mixes into the air as the wa- ter dribbles along happily. The coolness washes away the dirt and soothes my battered feet, the cuts already healed, another ability I have in this place. I’m leaning back onto my elbows, the horse quiet in his own space, when suddenly a couple walks in from the tree line.