DESPITE ALL THE WONDERS THESE WORLDS HOLD, there is a chill that comes with realizing one small, mundane detail: that she has a home to return to. Now home, as subjective as the term is, usually denotes a safe haven of some sort. A comfort zone. Neither of which hold true to her now but it's not herself that Therese worries about. What if, perchance, while she is out wandering through various stargates, März finds his way back to the Forest? And more importantly, what if their attackers are still lurking about the wood just waiting for the chance to finish what they started?
Needless to say she returns to her empty cottage immediately. There, she isn't sure whether she is stressed or relieved to find that nothing has been moved nor are there any plague doctors on the property. (Those WHISPERS , too, are quiet). Although there are no signs from her son, Therese thinks maybe - just maybe - it is safe enough to sit. Just for a moment. Only to catch her breath and then she'll be on her way again.
She fixes herself a small meal from the provisions she had packed for their jourrney, but hasn't the stomach to eat more than three bites. She coaxes a small fire into the hearth but it does nothing to warm the cold that haunts her. It's sheer exhaustion that puts her to sleep on the old rocking chair that used to be for reading big stories to a small child. And it's the sound of a branch snapping that startles her awake and spurrs her to the door.
One hand is occupied with a hastily lit lantern, as Therese forgets that the gate now illuminates the entire area. All the same, she is glad for the multitude of light provided; she's quickly able to discern that the person who undoubtably came through the pillar is not her lost son. In fact, she wonders if they could possibly be anymore different.
Although she cannot say his attire puts her at ease, she is careful to wear neutral expression while calling out to him from her threshold. "Traveler, a word of warning: do not wander past this forest. This world is unforgiving to its own kind," (As much as she tries to hide it, the bitterness in her voice cannot be fully masked.) "Let alone those of questionable origins."
@ferventpartisan