The First Age

Jon frowned. Again, Mara was talking about her pets. What did Nimeda mean by them being bitey? Was she talking about monsters, or constructs of her imagination in this place? Or something else entirely? The feeling of unseen eyes, of something watching him, was everywhere, invisible unblinking eyes in the shadow, peering at him, burrowing under his skin and into the back of his skull. No matter where he would look, though, there would be nothing. They were always there in the Spirit World. Jon had gotten so used to the feeling that he hardly paid it any mind anymore. Until now. Did she know something about them? The Unseen Ones? His ears itched with the desire to sniff out exactly what she knew.

But something was wrong with Nimeda. She was frightened, or at the least uneasy. Jon's line of questioning had upset her. And plus, this place, something about it repulsed her.

"An excellent idea, though I don't know where anyone else is at the moment,"
he said, sighing to himself. He'd really wanted to question Mara further. Still, he could learn more if he stayed close to Mara, and besides, it would be worth dropping the subject to make Nimeda happy.

He smiled at Nimeda. "When I first met you, you were painting. Do you have a studio or a gallery? I would love to see something you created."
He gestured toward the archway. "I'm sure I'd like it much more than this thing."

She liked Jon. He was peculiar and shifty, or at least that was the aura that followed him like shadows. Already, Mara was ready to follow the shift to where Nimeda led, and she nodded emphatically that she do so quickly. The longer they lingered, she was certain they would be caught. Even her pets avoided the place.

She grasped her dream sister's hand and squeezed it tight.