Chapter 4: Amber
Sadie Crane drifted into a long uneasy sleep. And dreamed.
A black fox perched on a boulder, the swishing back and forth of its tail leaving an afterimage of coal-dark smoke. A train with stained glass windows passed through the silent forest. The train was empty and the tracks had long since rotted away.
"Hello Sadie Crane," it said in greeting, its voice like the breezy hiss of a patio door. "Do you know when you're gonna die?"
Sadie Crane knelt in front of the boulder, their fingers sticking pinpoints into the mud. They'd lost something. They didn't know what it was. But if they didn't get it back, this was where their story ended. They were sure of it.
"I mean, yeah?" said Sadie Crane. "Doesn't everyone?"
They continued clawing through the mud, their desperation increasing. A truth, stuck in their side like a thorn, burrowed itself deeper. A truth locked in amber. That they only came back for the sake of their own guilt, nothing outside or in between. To make themself feel better about leaving, about never trying to contact anyone from their old life. Unsent letters sitting on their desk for the past six years, burned up in the fireplace as if that could make it all go away.
"It's big up there," said the black fox.
Sadie Crane lifted their head up to look at the night sky. Pinpricks of silver over a dark tapestry. It was beautiful. And so so far away.
"Hey, you seen the thing I lost?" they asked.
The black fox gave a small almost invisible shake of its head. No, it hadn't seen anything. It wasn't in the business of knowing where lost things turned up. But everything did eventually. Somewhere.
"You need to go," it said.
Sadie Crane almost laughed, but stopped themself. Their auntie once told them about familiar spirits, animals who'd appear in dreams and sometimes the waking world to deliver messages. They should have started seeing theirs a long time ago, but life, as it often did, had something else in mind.
"Where would I even go?" they asked.
The black fox looked up at the sky again, its tail darting back and forth. The train continued to pass by, moonlight bouncing off the stained glass windows.
"There's a little town very far from here," it said. "And there's a little house up near the woods. The woman there knows your name. But you don't know her."
"A seer?" they breathed, hardly believing it could be true.
It jumped down from the rock and just looked at them a moment. The train was starting to disappear.
"You don't have just the one auntie, you know," it said. "There is another. Just like the old story your mama used to tell. Do you remember? About the doe, the sparrow, and the bear?"
Sadie Crane tried to remember the story. But the dream was coming to an end. They wanted to ask why now, why here, why not at Passerine. But something deep in their chest already knew. There was something about this place. About this town. About Sybil's death. They should have come back years ago.
The black fox turned away, swinging its tail back and forth. Then it stood on its hind legs and walked into the sky, the train long gone.