Chapter Text
The first thing it sees when it opens its eyes is dark oak rafters lit by dancing candle light. It stares up at the warm wash of light as the shadows shift, and a cobweb sparks orange in the corner. It has no sense of time or its own presence, it simply observes. It's on its back. There is pressure against his shoulders, back, and legs where it lays on something solid.
The shuffle of cloth, and the rustle of papers is the first thing it hears. The sound is to its right–close by. Something thumps softly against wood.
“Well, your eyes are open. That’s a good sign.” The voice seems loud in its newness. And somehow it understands what the sounds mean. It doesn’t question the understanding, or the meaning. It listens.
The candlelight and shadows shift, the sound of cloth and footfalls returns, and a face fills its vision.
Green eyes, the reflection of the candle dancing in them, stare down at him. Freckles dot the young man’s face, creases form at the corners of his eyes and his mouth curls into a smile. “Oh you’re looking at me!” A laugh bursts from the man and his face vanishes.
Scratching on paper and then the voice returns. “I finally did it! Okay! Now to name you.” A hum and silence returns. Its eyes drift back to the cobweb spun between the rafters.
“I guess I’ll call you Tommy.”
Something shifts within it. Somehow, everything seems clearer and the press of the table beneath it greater.
“Not very creative but whatever. Okay, Tommy, sit up.”
At the command, it shifts. It bends at the waist and rights the upper half of its body. As it does, it catches sight of itself. Pale skin, two arms, and two legs all attached to its torso. There's cloth over it, but it understands that the cloth is not a part of it like its hands are.
The man returns to stand beside the table. He reaches out to cup Tommy’s face and tilt it from side to side. The press of the man’s palms against its cheeks gives it its first understanding of warmth. Then the man lets go.
“Lift your right leg.”
Its right leg raises a few inches off the table.
“Lower it. Now raise your left.” It does so.
“Tommy, get off the table and stand up.”
It plants its palms against the grain of the wooden table, shifts its hips, and swings its legs off the table. It plants its feet on the packed earth and gravity presses up against the pads of his feet. It sways, then stands still, eyes fixed on the man.
The man’s grin grows as he sees Tommy stand. He points to a desk a few steps away. The candle sits there, its flame flicking and illuminating the piles of papers, leather bound books, inkwells, and wax drips that layer the desktop. “Put the open book on the bookshelf.”
Tommy’s body moves. Its first steps are slow, gravity swaying its body in strange ways, and then it becomes acclimated. It reaches the desk. With both hands, it picks up the open book. The rough leather presses into its fingertips, and the soft pages slide against its thumbs.
On the open pages is a diagram of a body, much like his and the man’s. The page is packed with tiny spiked notes, arrows, ink spots, and numbers.
Tommy turned and its eyes swept the room. It saw the wooden walls, the shelves of bottles, bones, books, and other odds it didn’t recognize. It fixed its gaze on the bookshelf, crossed the space to it, and set the open bookdown on one of the clear shelves. It turned to face the man again.
The man tilted his head and frowned. “Not exactly what I meant but we can work with that. Tommy, pick the book up, close it, and set it on the shelf like the others.”
Tommy’s body turned, his hands picked up the book again, shut it, and then slid it into place between the others, spine facing out.
“Much better!” the man said. “Good Tommy. Come here.”
Tommy walked and stopped a pace away from the man.
The man’s eyes darted over him, and he tugged at the cloth over Tommy. He tugged at his fingers, and ran a hand over his head, making Tommy aware of the hair curled around its ears. He pushed Tommy to face away, then spun him back. The man had it open its mouth and shut it again a moment later.
With narrowed eyes, the man spoke. “Tommy, you can call me Dream. Say Dream.”
Tommy's mouth opened and something spilled out. “Dream.” It vibrated up his chest and swam against his ears. He sounded different from the man. Its voice was scratchy compared to Dream’s.
“Again,” Dream said, smile returning.
“Dream,” Tommy said, this time the sound was smoother.
Dream gripped Tommy by the shoulders and beamed. “Good boy. Now, go lay back down and sleep.”
Tommy stepped away when Dream released it, lifted itself up to lay on the table and closed its eyes. Sound, sight, and feel fell away. It rested.
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“Tommy get up.”
Tommy’s eyes opened for the second time and it stood from the table.
Dream wears a different tunic now than when Tommy had last opened his eyes. This one is green, and a gray cloak hangs from his shoulders. A brighter light casts down into the room from the top of the stairs, dust drifting in the beam.
“Tommy, come put these on.” In Dream’s extended hand is a bundle of cloth.
Tommy accepts it and begins to unfold what turns out to be another tunic and breeches. When Tommy tries to pull the tunic over his head Dream sighs.
“Wait,” Tommy freezes as Dream spin the tunic, switching the arms holes Tommy had been trying to shrug into. “Now go.” Tommy finishes putting on the clothes and then Dream holds out a pair of boots.
The leather is scuffed and worn, the toe of the left boot has been worn away. “Put these on.” It did as it was told. The leather had been worn soft, and its toe peaked out through the hole.
“Follow me,” Dream said.
Dream ascended the stairs, and once its hand planted against the wall for balance, it followed him up. Its boots thudded against the wood, and soon it felt that strange light spilling across its skin.
Warmth draped over it where the light touched, seeping through Tommy’s tunic and trickling to its core.
At the top of the stairs Tommy found an open doorway to its right, and a room to its left. The room held a table and chairs crammed together, a counter near the back strewn with dried herbs, flowers, and stacks of pottery. A darkened fireplace waited with a worn cushioned chair beside it.
The warm light that cascaded onto Tommy came from the open door, and it was through there that Dream led it. Pulling its eyes away from the room, Tommy stepped through the doorway.
As it did, something clicked in Tommy’s mind, and what he recognized as sunlight cascaded over him. Wind whipped through his hair and tugged at his clothes as Tommy blinked at the world.
Blue sky, dotted with dark clouds, hung above them through a lattice of tree branches and foliage. The trees swayed in the wind, their leaves whispering against each other. Around them lay a garden, bursting with different colors, shades of green, and different leaf shapes. Through the garden a packed dirt path led from the cabin door into the shade of the woods.
“Tommy, come here.”
Tommy focused on Dream, a few paces away and knelt by a patch of flowers. Tommy knelt beside him.
“This is lavender,” Dream said. “This is how much water it needs.” Dream tilted a watering can he’d picked up somewhere and doused the plant. Tommy watched as Dream talked about how the plant should be pruned, and when the flowers should be harvested. Dream led Tommy to every plant and showed him how to water, prune and harvest each. When the watering can be emptied, Dream showed him the well, and how to refill it.
By the time the sun was high, Tomy knew how to care for mint, lavender, rosemary, thyme, basil, nettles, mugwort, amaranth, and many more. Dream had taught him every plant in the garden when he rose with a groan, back cracking.
“Tommy, tomorrow, when the sun rises, I want you to water every plant out here. Do you understand?”
Tommy stared at Dream and its voice bubbled up again. “Yes, Dream.”
Dream smiled. “Good. Now, put away the watering can and go to the kitchen. Read each jar on the counter. Those labels will tell you where to place the flowers we harvest. Don’t harvest any until I tell you, but go learn the places.”
Its body rose and it returned to the cabin door, setting down the watering can there. It drifted to the kitchen and found the jars on the counter. Some empty, some full, some any amount between. Each had a faded label pasted across the front. Some were so old they’d begun peeling at the edges.
Tommy remained there, reading the labels over and over. It found that it recognized each name, and knew which plant outside they represented. Tommy found it knew what each jar would read before it read it, so it stopped. It stared ahead and waited.
Tommy could hear Dream working behind him, the sounds of shifting objects and cloth letting Tommy track where Dream moved.
An hour later, Dream muttered. “Oh right.”
“Tommy,” Tommy turned. Dream swung a bag onto his shoulders. “Go back down to the workshop and sleep until I wake you.”
Then Dream exited the cabin. Tommy obeyed.
________________________
Tommy opened its eyes for the fourteenth time to see the familiar spiderweb and rafters above it. It registered them, then the sunlight trickling down the stairs into the workshop and rose for another day.
Tommy climbed the stairs with practiced steps and silently opened the door to exit the cabin. It picked up the watering can as birds sang good morning and made its way to the well. The water splashed as Tommy let the bucket down and hauled it back up, ropes creaking.
It closed its eyes and let the sun warm its skin before it turned to the garden.
Tommy cared for the amaranth, lavender, rosemary, and reached the holly bush. Tommy knelt and began tugging away the dead leaves when it paused. A flash of movement within the bush had caught its eyes.
A bird, huddled in the branches, much closer than Tommy had seen any bird before. It sat atop a bundle of twigs and sticks, unmoving. Something tugged at Tommy’s understanding. The pile of twigs served a purpose, but Tommy couldn’t quite place what it was.
Dream hadn’t told him what to do about birds in the plants. Tommy stared at the bird for a long time, trying to decide what it was supposed to do. Then it decided the bird wasn’t part of the plant, and therefore wasn’t something Tommy needed to bother with. Tommy finished pruning the few dead leaves left, then moved on to the next plant.
Tommy finished its work in the garden, hung the flowers it had harvested on twine to dry in the kitchen, and went back outside to get fresh water for the kitchen basin.
Dream woke soon after, yawning as he rose from his bed in the corner. He entered the kitchen, rinsed his face in the basin and turned to when Tommy sat waiting at the table.
“Tommy, go get a cloak from the closet. You’re coming with me into the woods today.”
Tommy rose and obeyed.
About half an hour later, Tommy followed behind Dream as they left the sunlit garden and entered the shade of the forest. The pack Dream hand handed him hung on Tommy’s back, swaying with his steps.
Dream led them deep into the forest, occasionally offering ways for Tommy to orient itself through the weave of the forest. They reached a mossy area, shades by a nearby cliff and cluster of pines. There, Dream showed Tommy how to harvest the different kinds of mushrooms and toadstools that grew there.
Once they’d harvested what was there Dream led Tommy to the base of the cliff. Dream frowned up at it, brows creased.
Finally he spoke. “Tommy, climb up and grab those purple flowers.”
Tommy looked up at the cliff to see a clump of purple flowers clinging to the rock maybe fifteen feet up.
“Give me the pack before you go,” Dream said.
Tommy’s hand took the backpack off and handed it to Dream. Its feet didn’t move for a movement, but then Tommy approached the cliff and readied itself.
It climbed with slow motions, hand raised, then foot, then the other hand and then the other foot. It reached the flowers, used one hand to pluck them and tuck them into its belt. Its other hand shook slightly.
As Tommy climbed back down, the worn boot on his right foot slipped.
Dream swore and Tommy tumbled the rest of the way down. It clutched at the rocks, but its hands were ripped away from them and Tommy impacted the earth and rocks below.
Tommy’s forehead bounced off a rock, and the world slid out of place for a moment. When it settled, Dream knelt over him, hands flying over him.
“Tommy, sit up.”
Tommy’s body moved to obey. It felt like something wasn’t moving right and when Dream took Tommy’s hand it understood why. The tip of Tommy’s pointer finger was gone.
Dream swore again as Tommy stared at the empty space. It turned it’s hand to see better.
A few days ago, Tommy had cleaned up a ceramic plate dream had dropped. The broken tip of Tommy’s finger reminded it of the jagged edges of the pottery–pale compared to the outside, with a gritty texture. The sight was–something tugged at Tommy’s mind. It kept staring at its broken point. It shouldn’t be like that.
Dream sighed. “Well I guess it was only a matter of time until I had to do some repairs. Stand up.”
Tommy stood, Dream took the flowers from Tommy’s belt, handed the backpack back for Tommy to carry, and then led them back toward the cabin.