two pieces of paper. Fig sat and watched her with his head tilted to one side. With her pointer fingers pressed to her lips she swayed puzzling out the new evidence. “Did I leave myself clues? Or did someone leave me these?” she mumbled. Fig walked over to her and brushed up on her side, then walked over to the storage room’s door and pawed it.

She slowly stood up and put the little pieces of paper into her pocket. She walked over to the pantry and started to move everything out into the main space. There were little wooden boxes, ribbons, clothes, books, and tools. She brought each thing out and dug through them searching for another little paper to add to the two she had collected. “Fig, I am not seeing a reason you want me to dig in this closet.”

She found a bag that had peppermint, lavender, honey, cinnamon, ginger, and other herbs. Deeper and deeper into the crowded closet she went. She froze when she got to the back. Under an old sheet in the very back corner was a painting. She stared into the bright green eyes of a round faced girl with raven hair. She was looking into her own eyes in a painting of which she had no memories. She brought it out to the main room, into the light, and studied the painting. It was her. Her head was tilted to the side and her eyes smiled more than her lips. She had a ribbon tied into her hair and the bright red pedant she had found in the box was around her neck. She massaged her temple and watched Fig rub his scent on the picture and purr. She listened to the rain falling outside and looked around the room. “Am I home?”

She hung the painting above the mantle and started to organize the items that she found. She had books on medicine and stories of far off lands, none of which revealed any more hidden messages as bookmarks. She filled her bookshelf with her finds and decided to put on the necklace she had found before. As she took it out of the music box, she felt an icy surge run through her as the cool stone touched her bare skin. She boiled some water over the fire and added the lavender to it; the scent filled the entire cabin with the sweet, sleepy smell. She took some of her concoction and applied it to her temple. She didn’t know why she needed to do this, but it seemed instinctual. For a little while, the pain went away and she got sleepy, from the scent of the lavender. She changed into some of the clothes that she had found in the pantry and snacked on some odds and ends that she had found on the shelves. Little Fig went out in the rain and came back licking his chops; it appeared he had taken care of his own dinner for the night.

The cabin was clean and organized. She plopped down on the overstuffed blue chair with the dingy, gold buttons and started to read one of the medicinal books she had found. It showed how to heal colds with honey and upset stomachs with peppermint. The book was all hand written, by different hands and inks. Some had drawings of the plants to use and how to prepare them. “Interesting,” she murmured. Fig lazily lifted his head before rolling onto his other side to sleep.

They snuggled up on the chair and she flipped through books. She found one that piqued her curiosity. The book was leather bound with gold lettering that read ‘Creatures.’ “Even more interesting, Fig.” The little cat purred as she read through all the different creatures she found on the pages.

‘The Epimelides are beautiful tree nymphs with hair the color of apple blossoms and soft as undyed sheep’s wool. They protect apple trees and sheep. They are able to change shapes between trees and humans. They like to play tricks on humans for fun.’

Next to the description was a beautiful coal drawing of a little tree with the face of a woman.  “Have you ever seen one of those, Fig?” She showed the picture to the sleepy kitty. He viewed the picture with wide eyes and meowed at her. He pawed at the book and knocked it to the floor. “Hey!” she playfully yelled at the cat as she bent down to pick up the book. The pages had fallen open to show a large, shadowy, cat-shaped creature on it.

The subtitle labeled it, ‘Grimalkin.’ Curiously she read on, “An all-black, cat-like shadow creature with bright green eyes and a white spot on its chest. The grimalkin travels at night stealing the souls of those it captures. It has been said that a witch’s cackle can be heard shortly before the large cat appears.”  As she settled back into her chair with her little furry friend she started to creep herself out with every fairy, nymph, dragon, or monster she read about in the book of creatures.

After a time she put the book down and looked around the little cabin. The rain still rhythmically fell onto the roof and the fire had finally warmed the walls of the little abode. She let out a sigh of contentment enjoying the warmth, cleanliness, and sweet smell of lavender. She finally felt a sense of comfort. The pain in her head, though still there, had dulled. Despite the comfort, things did not yet make any sense. She twisted the pendant between her fingers and it cooled her fingers. She didn’t know what to think. At this point she was just starting to accept that she was where she was supposed to be even if she could not remember anything before two days ago.

She curled up in bed with Fig in the nook of her arm, purring as he softly snored a little cat

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