This story is part of the Wanderer series.
Opening her journal and dipping her pen, Sen began to write under the candlelight.
The last traces of winter eroded away on the surface world, allowing spring to shine in its full glory. The unusually persistent drizzles over the dry steppes morphed it out of its brown landscape, giving it color.
The Dream Child was quick to adapt to the castle. Though she initially stuck to grounds she knew, limiting her wander to the nightroom and the inner chambers I mostly resided, she grew more comfortable with leaving my side as she followed me to other chambers, broadening her horizon. In a twist, it became me who would follow her out of abundance of caution for her safety. When I did, the Dream Child would stare at me for a moment before continuing her wandering. One day, she found a worm, and looked to ingest it before I interfered.
I do fear, in my caution, I have left a bad impression on the child. Perhaps it has led to a lasting impression we should follow each other. Over time, as she would leave to explore, she would glance back to check if I was following. And if I did not, she would return to my side rather than continue off, despite any attempts to push her away.
I do fear, in her loneliness, she is becoming too obsessive of me. Her lone wanderings are becoming shorter, and when she is by my side she becomes tenacious, clinging to my robes and refusing to let go even when I encourage her to. Her tenacity has translated to night, where she must sleep with me. If I were to set her to bed and return to my study, she would get out of bed with me and doze off leaning by my chair.
And I do fear, in her rapid growth, she is quickly approaching a point where she could outwit me should I let my diligence lapse. I do not know the age of the Dream Child. Perhaps no older than six years. She has yet to speak anything intelligible, despite certainly looking the age capable of speaking. I have said a few words to her that she has learned, yet she will not speak them. She can recognize herself in a reflection. She knows where to eat. Where to rest. Where to stool. Where to play. She knows when it is time to eat. Time to bathe. Time to sleep. Even exploiting that knowledge sometimes, such as hiding from me when she did not want to bathe. However, given her attachment to me, it is simple enough to bait her out by leaving the chamber, stirring her to come out of hiding and attempt to follow me in secret. Were she to grow independent of me, as I hope she does, devices such as these will in turn lose their efficacy. I can only trust that recalling the devious pursuits I took in my youth will equip me with the weapons necessary to counter any hazards she may unwittingly pose to the functions of this vessel and the labors I put into it. It will take careful attention …
Sen paused, her writing hand halting on the page. Brows slightly raising, she slightly straightened back, her face breaking out of its concentrated expression, as if realizing something. Her pupils dilate, drawing back from the words on the page to gaze at the book as a whole. With a breath out, a subtle smile broke out.
Glancing down at the foot of her chair, her eyes fell on the child, sitting there, rubbing her fingers across the cover of a hard book. Noticing Sen’s change in attention, the girl looked up, meeting Sen’s gaze as she continued to muse.
“Look at me, writing only about you at the onset of this week’s entry.”
The Dream Child blinked, eyes slightly widening as she heard Sen make noises without explicit reason. Sen held her gaze for a moment before looking away, back at her desk. However, instead of resuming, she held still for a while, before eventually sneaking a flicking glance back down at the child, catching her turning to her current odd obsession of the book.
“Perhaps I need to get her a doll to occupy her attention,” Sen thought to herself.