The Telematrix, Part 11
She had heard from the man at the pub about the family farm over the stream.
“You’ll see ‘em right quick!” he’d urged. “Soon’s you clear them reeds, the house’s on’y a stones’s toss.”
Which is precisely where she found the small farmhouse when she finally made it to the stream. According to the stories she heard in the village, the family had taken in a young orphan girl who was the spitting image of Telematrice. After riding through the countryside from land’s end to land’s end almost three months, it was her first solid lead. And she had every intention of taking advantage of it.
Her horse waded through the shallow waters, leading her through the field toward the stone path. Once on the path, she swung off the horse and walked to the front door of the cabin, knocking twice.
When the door opened, she found herself looking face-to-face with herself, or what seemed to be. Telematrice reached out and slapped her hand across the girl’s wrist before she could think to run.
“Father’s been worried,” she said to the girl.
There was a stirring further into the house, and soon a tall man joined them at the door.
“Whassit?” he asked. For a moment, she couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. She’d had a terrible time making heads and tails of the more rural dialects.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, excuse me, sir, but you seem to have found my sister! Thank you for taking care of her, but my father’s been awfully worried. I’ve come to take her back.”
The girl began to cry. Telematrice’s heart sank for a moment. She took a breath and reconnected with her purpose. With her future.