Summer’s end was at hand, but the sun beat down all the more fiercely, and the harsh sunlight stung Angeline’s eyes. It was just before noon, and Orphen was clouded in dust. As usual, uncountable multitudes came and went, and the sounds of their voices and foot traffic and everything else resulted in quite a deafening clamor. It was the same old scenery, yet Angeline found it strangely frustrating now.
Marguerite clasped her hands behind her head. “I thought we’d be taking on a few more jobs before we headed back to Turnera, to be honest.”
“We can take them if you want...”
“There’s no way we can put you on the front lines like this, stupid.”
Angeline was irritated to hear common sense come out of Marguerite’s mouth, but she didn’t have the energy to retort. Angeline sighed, her shoulders drooping. Marguerite sullenly smacked her on the back, knocking Angeline off-balance again and causing her to stumble. “Oof!”
“Tsk... There’s no point in competing with you when you’re like this. C’mon. Let’s get a drink or something.”
“Ugh...” Angeline wasn’t really in the mood for that, but she didn’t feel like going home to sleep either. She had started to hate sleeping, and if that was what tired her out, she didn’t see any point to it. Perhaps she could drink herself into such a stupor that she could enjoy one night of dreamless sleep. “Got it... Let’s go.”
“That’s more like it. What about Anne and Merry?”
The other two were off on their own today—they had gone their separate ways at the guild without saying what they were doing. They were most likely at the orphanage or off doing a simple job that they could do with just the two of them. In any case, Angeline and Marguerite hadn’t been apprised beforehand, and it would be difficult to meet up with them now.
Thus, Angeline and Marguerite went to their usual pub. It wasn’t even noon yet, so it wasn’t too busy, and it probably wouldn’t be until the lunchtime crowd arrived.
The two girls sat next to each other at the bar. The barkeep glanced at them, as stoic as ever. “Are you sure you don’t want a table? Your friends will be joining you, won’t they?”
“No, it’s just us two today... Some wine, please.”
“I’ll have the stronger stuff—and some sausages and a steamed potato, and a cup of stew. How about you, Ange?”
“I’m good. I don’t have an appetite.”
“What are you talking about? You gotta eat when you can, or you won’t have any energy when you need it. Speaking of—sautéed duck and pickles, please.”
Whenever Angeline saw Marguerite so energetic, she felt like she had lost somehow. She tried to use this feeling to motivate herself, but it was like trying to blow air into a sack with a hole in it—her cheer would escape before she could inflate it. Still, she did calm down a bit after polishing off three glasses of wine. Marguerite was doing perfectly fine even after drinking the same amount of distilled liquor in the same time.
“So in the end, you still haven’t been able to remember what those dreams were all about?”
“Yeah... And I can’t shake the bad feeling from the dreams. That’s what makes it so irritating.”
“Huh... This smells like trouble,” Marguerite said before taking a bite of her sausage and ordering another drink.
It was the very fact Angeline couldn’t remember her dreams that put her in such a foul mood. If only she knew what they were about, she could at least complain about the content of the dreams; perhaps Marguerite would laugh it off and call it idiotic and nonsensical, and Anessa and Miriam would console her with smiles on their faces. It would no doubt be a load off of her mind—but here she was, bereft of even that modicum of joy.
Angeline planted her elbow on the counter and propped up her head. “You ever gone through something like this before, Maggie...?”
“Like what?”
“Having a terrible dream that you just can’t remember.”
“Well, I wouldn’t remember if I did, would I? I would have just forgotten altogether.”
Angeline sighed. I mean, yeah... “I knew it. It was hopeless to ask you...”
“What’s that, dumbass? You’re the hopeless one right now.”
For want of anything to say in her defense, Angeline wearily nursed her wine.
Marguerite seemed a tad disappointed—she was clearly looking for a good fight, which Angeline was usually up for. “Good grief, do you have to be like that all the time? You’re feeling down because you keep worrying about it! How about you think of something else for a change?”
“For instance?”
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back to Turnera? You’re going to pick cowberries, right?”
“Yeah...” Angeline leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes and recalled autumns back home.
The grass of the plains is beginning to fade in hue, but the forest at the foot of the mountain is painted in beautifully brilliant reds and yellows. There are clouds over the mountain’s summit, but the sky is clear everywhere else, and smoke from chimneys all around the village just disappears into its infinite expanse. In the forest, the air is filled with the fragrance of damp soil and dry leaves. A slowly inclining animal trail leads through the woods past gradually thinning tree cover until it opens up on a rocky outcropping where the sun hits just right. Amidst the small green leaves in this clearing, the ripe, bright red cowberries await...
Angeline heaved a sigh. “I want to go home...”
“You’re almost there. Just a little longer. So don’t you go giving in to those bad dreams,” Marguerite chided, smiling, before chugging down another glass. “Those cowberries were nice. They’re sweet but tart—I could eat them forever.”
“Huh... When did you have some?”
“You know. It was back when you went off to Estogal and we just missed you in Orphen. I was in Turnera right at the end of the autumn festival, so I went up the mountain with Bell and the village kids. You rarely find cowberries in elven territory, you know. I was pretty damn excited when I saw so many of them.”
Angeline slumped down over the table again. “I didn’t get to eat a single fresh cowberry last time.”
“Hmm, really? How long’s it been since you last ate one anyways?”
“I haven’t had any...since I was twelve years old.”
Angeline had eaten her fill of them at the feast that was held for her right before she’d set off to Orphen to become an adventurer—and that was it. Although she’d had preserved cowberries and jam since then, it was the flavor of freshly picked berries that was so vivid in her memories. But she hadn’t been back home whenever they were in season since then, so the opportunity had never come around again.
“Wow, that’s long. But won’t that make it even more emotionally fulfilling when you finally get to eat some this time?” Marguerite asked, her mouth full of roast duck.
“Hmph... I don’t want to hear that from someone who already ate them without me.”
“What, are you sulking? Heh heh! Lookie here, c’mon.” Marguerite prodded at Angeline’s cheek, grinning.