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Summary
podfic of smallestchurch's bury the castle
Stede's been back and Ed's a mess. The books are gone, and Stede's telling an old folktale to the crew, and Ed's had a little too much rum. His dream is a lot like Stede's story—wild, magical, impossible. Somehow, it changes everything.
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It can’t be real, is the thing. It’s huge, for one. Big and broad through the shoulders, massive beige rack on its head, enormous brown-green eyes. It moves fast, delicate and ballerina graceful, long limbs sure in their movements, muscular and graceful. It seems to glide over the forest floor, never tripping, never hesitating.
And it’s pure white, from its fuzzy ears to its flicking tail, every where save a few tawny spots on its hind legs, near its nose, like freckles. Ed’s never seen anything like it.
It reminds him of … something. Something he can’t place, but something he knows, like a finger painting of a memory, blurry but bright. Hauntingly evocative.