Page 28 of Of Serpents and Ruins
A river chuckled across the land as well, branching off into several paths. One went straight to a large broad structure as if it were a part of it. Numerous arches and paths led to the house, each one easily large enough for two triceratopses to walk side by side. Clover and tiny white spire flowers lined the river stone path. The stones weren't even. Several had cracks in them.
The earthquakes.
Earthquakes were part of our life here before. That sounded right, but…they had gotten worse?
Something else to do with the magic, probably. The dark cracks and marks in the ground were here as well. Deep gouges with a lightening or yellowing of the plant life that touched them as if they had been weakened. They reminded me of a predator’s claws sinking into the flesh of its prey before it tore them apart.
My gaze narrowed on the structure ahead. This building, like the others, had been built to withstand the earthquakes, combining magic with architecture. It had a broad base withspecially constructed bricks and various components to allow it to move with the land when it trembled.
Auntie Runa indicated a large archway and an open side door. "Straight through there and into the door with the blue and gold sea serpent and the gold crest at the center. Don't enter the rooms with eyes marked on the doors. I'll see to Buttercup here." She patted Buttercup on the snout, then plucked an amber fruit from the tree and offered it to her. Buttercup pretended to be a dainty princess and took it gently from her hand.
I smiled a bit, feeling as if I had walked into a dream. So strange to feel that I knew and loved this place. My eyes widened as I took it all in.
This house was so unlike anything I’d ever seen on Earth. Comfort swept over me as soon I stepped beneath the thick stone arch and toward one of the side doors as Auntie Runa indicated. It smelled like fresh water and incense, smoky fruit and green plants.
The walls all appeared to be made of interlocking stones, the masonry exquisite. I brushed my fingers over the cool stone.
Most of the stones were pale, shades of cream or white or opal. Someone had hand-painted little designs over them, mostly water lines, sea snakes, and currents. I felt as if these had once held a far greater meaning for me. Had I painted some of these designs? A few of those squiggles looked like ones I’d made in my sketchbook. Especially the serpent with the crooked head and two triangular eyes and one with a triangular pupil and the other with a diamond.
Beautiful. Haunting. Familiar.
The coolness of the house enveloped me. Water lapped somewhere nearby. It sounded like a pool was somewhere in here, or maybe it was just the river.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost see it or at least part of it. Reflections dancing on the water and casting funny shapes on the walls. A home more vibrant with life than any I'd ever seen in Nevada or Ohio or California or North Carolina or Florida or anywhere else I’d traveled.
The door Auntie Runa indicated was one of many, yet I walked straight to it. My feet remembered better than my mind.
I'd stayed—no—I’d lived here.
The small bed in the center of the room had an old quilt on it, each triangle or square of fabric embroidered with serpent and water designs in interlocking waves and starbursts. It looked old. Decades, perhaps. The whites had gone a little dingy, and some of the old threads holding the blocks together had started to fall apart, so tinier new stitches had been worked into the fabric, the lighter threads standing out, little reminders that someone had deemed this quilt worth saving again and again.
A single round window looked out from the bedroom into a garden of flowering herbs and fruiting plants. This room was all in shades of blue. A small table sat beside the bed, a shallow stoneware basin of water beside it. A stoneware pitcher and basin with a towel hanging over the edge was on the dresser on the other side of the room. The coarse texture revealed that the blue was not painted on. The clay itself appeared blue. Or maybe it changed colors in the firing.
I washed and put on the clothes that had been placed on the foot of the bed—a pale-blue dress with a gold sash and an asymmetrical hemline. There were short leggings underneath to allow me to retain some measure of modesty if I had to bend over or spin—or if I fell while trying to rescue a koi or launching myself off a triceratops at a tyrannosaur.
Scoffing, I shook my head. Still couldn't believe I'd done that. Rubbing my jaw, I wondered why it had been so instinctual. And why did it still feel like I should have long sharp teeth?
As I tied the sash, I bumped into the wardrobe. The door jarred open, revealing the flash of a mirror. Drawing it open farther, I stepped in front of it.
My breaths tightened.
I'd already seen myself in the river's reflection, but that had been through the haze of alcohol and rippling water.
Was I… Yes.
My heart leaped when I stepped in front of the mirror, my hand flying to my mouth.
Yes.
Yes!
I recognized myself.
A giggle rose to my lips.
This was the person I had been searching for in the mirror all my life.
The eyes that peered back at me—warm gold with dark brown and soft honey flecks—were my eyes. This rich-blue hair that cascaded to the tops of my shoulders like a waterfall was my hair. The shape of my face had not changed, but its coloration had. Faint streaks of gold marked my cheeks, the sides of my throat, and bits of my forehead, as well as my forearms, similar to the fern markings on Auntie Runa. They were almost invisible at times, depending on how the light struck me. Even those long, pointed ears were right somehow. The only thing missing were the earrings for the multiple piercings.
