Venya looked at her mismatched boots.
She thought they looked oddly appropriate.
She was sitting on the front steps, feeling sorry for herself.
It was one of those moods that came over her once in a while.
Like an uninvited guest or an annoying childhood friend that still treated you like the person you had been at eleven.
It had been a week since she popped into this world.
Hard as it was to accept, she had come to understand that this was no ordinary dream.
She was caught somewhere in between.
It wasn’t that she missed her modern life.
It was more about whether she wanted to build something permanent here.
What if she woke up from this dream?
She felt like a traitor.
Whether this world was real or not, she had already grown attached to Ves and Melia.
Venya watched the little lynx cub playing happily in the yard.
Maybe she should learn something from him.
He threw himself into everything and had probably already explored every last corner of the inn.
Sometimes he got so dusty and sooty that Venya suspected he had been climbing around in the chimneys.
This place had plenty of them, and they could be deadly traps.
To keep Ves from climbing into the fireplaces in the rooms, she had jammed the doors shut wherever she could.
She had blocked the rest of the fireplaces with old furniture and rotten planks she had found in the common room.
It was not foolproof, but it gave her some peace of mind.
Chimneys.
She tapped her chin with a finger.
She could ask whether the village had a chimney sweep.
If she could use the kitchen, that would be a huge improvement.
“Mewp.” The lynx cub stopped what he was doing and watched Venya with his head tilted.
He was such a cutie.
Venya finally got up to see what the cub was playing with, but he darted away with his treasure.
Venya watched him go with a smile and returned to the steps.
For at least two days, Ves had been guarding something as though it was a treasure.
He kept hiding it and would growl whenever Venya tried to get close.
Venya let him keep his treasure.
Maybe the cub had found something in the inn worth playing with.
A few times, he had brought her scraps of cloth that practically rotted away in her hands, as well as a small pewter cup she now used for drinking water.
His best find, however, had been an ancient coin purse containing several small pieces of silver.
The pieces had no stamps or markings that could identify them.
Melia had said they could be sold to a silversmith, but the nearest one was in Waterfort.
The silver reminded her of one concrete thing.
She needed money.
A shitload of it, if she intended to fix up even a small part of the inn.
She flopped down on her back on the stone patio.
Her foul mood had lifted, and watching the sky soothed her.
How was she supposed to get the money?
After the shock in the woods, she had somehow gained the ability to speak this strange language and to read and write it too.
She had found out the day before the reception.
When she moved the old inn’s fallen sign board, she saw that it read “Sweetness House” in ornate letters.
She had nearly fallen on her bottom.
She could read.
She had found out she could write at the mansion when he forced her to write.
Thinking about him made her shudder, so she pushed him out of her mind.
Melia had taught her a lot too, correcting her whenever she used the wrong word.
She had also shared local stories, along with the juiciest rumors from the village.
She spoke with an accent, though she couldn’t hear it herself.
It marked her as a stranger, but it wouldn’t prevent her from working.
The problem was she didn’t have any special skills, unless working with complex Excel spreadsheets became a thing here.
“Mewp.” The lynx cub pressed his tiny body against her side.
She stroked his fur and scratched behind his ears, and he began to purr.
His treasure dropped from his mouth as he fell asleep.
He was still a baby.
A baby with sharp canines and claws.
Venya carefully reached down to pick up the treasure.
It was a soggy, dirty handkerchief.
But it didn’t look old.
In fact, it looked rather new.
Venya ran her fingers along the neatly stitched edge.
Whoever had made it had taken their time.
It smelled faintly of smoke and clove.
She placed it back beside Ves.
“Hi,” Melia shouted from the gate.
She visited her daily, bringing fresh water, food, and something useful.
This time she had brought a longer rope.
“Where did you get this?
You didn’t steal it, did you?” “I made it myself.” She beamed.
“I went to the ropewright to learn.
He didn’t want to teach me at first.” “So, I took…” Melia lowered her voice, cupped her hand around her mouth, and whispered, “Stole.” Then she continued in her normal voice.
“Three cakes and brought them to him, and he agreed.” The whisper made Venya smile.
They were alone, after all.
“I’d hate it if you got in trouble because of me.” “Oh, don’t worry.
My father always prepares three extra cakes for me to steal.” Melia burst out laughing and clapped her hands together.
“If I told him I used them to bribe old Mike, he wouldn’t believe it.” “This looks fantastic,” Venya said as she took the rope from Melia and pulled it taut between her hands.
It was made of hemp, coarse and rough against her palms but thick and strong enough for hauling water from the well.
“It’s awful.
You should have seen old Mike’s face when I showed it to him.
He made me promise not to tell anyone he’d taught me.” She paused.
“Wait.
I just broke that promise.” “I’m serious.
It doesn’t have to be perfect.
When did you find time to do this?” “I went there every day for a few hours after the bread delivery.
Now that Rive’s not here, I’m bored.” Melia went to the old well while Venya fetched a bucket from the inn.
She had found it in the ruined stable the day before.
It was leaky, but still usable.
Venya tied the rope to the bucket and the other end to the post that had once supported the crank.
Then she slowly lowered the bucket into the well and hauled it back up full of water.
“Yay!
Water!” Melia yelled, dancing around the yard.
Venya didn’t trust that the water was safe to drink or bathe in.
She could inspect it for visible impurities, but she had no way to test it for chemical or bacterial contamination.
It would probably be safe enough to use for scrubbing the floors and perhaps washing clothes.
It was a start.
“Oh, and Talia sent you one of her old dresses.
It had a hole, but she patched it.” She hadn’t seen Talia since leaving the reception at the mansion.
After everything Talia had done to help her return the bracelet, Venya felt a little guilty that she hadn’t even thanked her properly.
She had been a little shaken by everything that had happened, so she hadn’t managed to do much more than change her clothes and hurry back to the inn.
Venya was worried about her.
She might not have any real right to knock some sense into her, but she would try if Talia tried to get involved with the magistrate.
Talia wouldn’t like it, but she wasn’t exactly impressed with Venya right now anyway.
So it didn’t matter.
Melia put everything down, then started to unbutton her dress.
“Hey, what are you doing?” “Hush.
Don’t fuss.” She pulled off the dress, revealing another one underneath.
“Why wear two dresses?
Isn’t it hot?” “I didn’t have any free hands.
I already had my hands full with the water, food, and rope.” “You’ve done so much for me, Melia.
I mean it.” Venya hugged the girl.
Even if this dream ended and Melia, Ves and even Rive turned out to be products of her imagination, she was grateful for them.
She hadn’t felt this free in a long time.
Maybe ever.
Maybe she had already made her choice when Melia gave her two butter buns in the shed.
To hell with it.
She would enjoy Melia’s friendship, Ves’s company, and being part of this old inn.
Even if she woke up someday.
“Thank you, Melia,” Venya said from the bottom of her heart.
“Oh no.
I’m starting to cry.”