Hester's eyes are teeth, sharp and unpleasant. She is telling him something he knows, deep down, to be true about himself. She won't stop. He can't look away from her.
Something is breathing down the back of his neck.
HE'S WAITING FOR the rattle of the rattlesnake's tail -- the harbinger of fear that brought the comfort of knowing it was a dream & it would be over soon -- but it never comes. the nightmare isn't like his usual: its too real. he's still in the balloon's basket, & lyra was still curled up nice & safe just like she had been when lee had decided to go to bed. all that was different was his beloved hester, who spoke in a cruel voice that didn't suit her.
& her eyes. the beautiful gold seemed to have been carved away, leaving gaping maws of hell that grinned a human grin upon her hare face.
" our family tree has been rotted since its first seed was planted, lee, " she hisses, moving toward him in a way that reminds him of a cliff ghast about to strike its prey, " we're no different. "
" this isn't real. you're not my hester. " lee affirms, taking a step away from the monstrosity. she laughs, but its not hers. its an awful sound that makes his hair stand on end.
" aren't i? don't i always tell you the truth lee? keep you on the level? stop you from being stupid and getting us killed? "
he says nothing. only affirms quietly to himself this is not real, & will pass. he's still waiting for the rattlesnake & hester -- his hester, not this thing tormenting him -- jumping on his chest to wake him.
she continues, " healthy branches always rot with the rest of the tree, lee. did you know, when the chips are down & things are truly desperate, arctic hares will eat their kits? "
now lee feels breath on his neck. someone is here.
" this. isn't. real. " he repeats through gritted teeth, even as he moves to stand between this thing pretending to be his hester & lyra, " is this the work of a witch? what the hell is this? "
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