Trent was still holding the blanket he had woken in, finding that its soft touch was reassuring. He removed it from his shoulders and examined it while he was sitting at the dining table, with an empty sandwich plate in front of him. It was a fluffy fur blanket colored or dyed tan, and it likely belonged in the bedroom closet. I wonder if Sharon bought this for the cabin. How did I get it on anyway? I guess it doesn’t matter, I really don’t want to think about what happened earlier anymore. Trent got up, wrapped the blanket around himself, grabbed his dinner plate, and took it to the kitchen, getting ready to wash the dish. He was finally starting to feel a bit more comfortable than before, briefly forgetting the events of that unpleasant morning.

“Is my blanket keeping you warm, sir?” A familiar, coarse female voice muttered, catching Trent off-guard. I need to get out. Quietly.

Trent didn’t respond and attempted to silently make his way across the kitchen. He kept as close to the kitchen counter as he could, slowly making quiet steps and forcing himself to hold his breath as he moved. Please just let me get out of this alive. The moment he entered the crossroads that led out of the kitchen and was standing in front of the bedroom door, he froze up, painfully aware that something or someone was on his left side.

This can’t be happening. Trent turned his head to look at what was there, feeling the crushing dread that had been building up from his shoulders slam into his chest as he stared at a little auburn-haired girl standing in the doorway to the living room.

“Are you afraid to talk to me, sir?” She asked him. This isn’t real. I’m deluding myself. Trent said nothing, looking her over to make sure she wasn’t holding a weapon or anything that could hurt him. Her presence alone made him wish that he could scream. Her hair covered most of her face, except her mouth, and she wore a blue dress with a collar and shoulder-length sleeves. She was covered in freckles all over her arms and part of her face, and had little black shoes Trent always imagined were characteristic of Victorian children. I must be imagining her. This isn’t real. She smiled at him in a reassuring way, or at least as reassuringly a possible ghost/hallucination could. What did she ask me? Oh right. Trent jerkily nodded, confirming that he was quite alarmed if a bit horrified.

“Hehe, you don’t need to be scared to talk! Though I do ask, may I have my blanket back sir? It is very cold outside and I like to go play in the snow sometimes,” She stated, her smiling shaping over her words and becoming a slight frown. With trembling hands, Trent removed the blanket from his shoulders again, folded it neatly, and handed it to her. Please, please go. She took it gently from his hands, and she smiled at him again, wrapping herself in the blanket. Please. “Thank you, sir, and I’m sure you’re wondering who I am and how you got back inside the cabin, yes?” She asked him.

How would she know?

Curious, Trent nodded at her, possibly believing that maybe what she had to say was true. “Well then, I’ll tell you, sir!” She said with a grin, her voice crackling slightly.

“My name is Alana, sir. And I’m good friends with Cahoon!” She says with a smile, pausing for a moment. “Cahoon doesn’t like much of the others here, he says they’re not very nice- anyway, we brought you inside sir! Cahoon said you feared us, but going out in the cold is dangerous, and you seemed like you were injured or sick. Cahoon got his shoes wet, and so he got the floor wet after carrying you back in, sir,” She motioned to the living room behind her.

But where is he now? Why is she here? And why the hell is the floor dry?

She then continued: “I helped dry it up with some towels. Boy, you didn’t look very well, sir! I left you with my blanket cause I didn’t know if you’d want us sneaking into your bedroom, sir. But we had to take off your jacket, it was too wet, so we lit the fire to dry it, and put you just close and far enough so that you might feel it, sir. Cahoon said he wasn’t sure why you had passed out. He also said after a while that’d we have to leave, so you wouldn’t get startled when you woke up, but I came back to check on you, and found you in the kitchen! And here we are, sir,” Alana explained. Trent leaned on the wall and gripped the countertop near him, trying to comprehend what he just heard.

It makes sense, it makes just a bit of sense but this isn’t right. This can’t be real. Is this even real? Am I hallucinating? Maybe I’m losing it.

“By the way,” She cryptically smiled at Trent, asking, “What’s your name, sir?”

If this wasn’t real, wouldn’t she know it already?

“Uh, it’s just Trent,” He stuttered quietly, still unnerved by her. “Trent’s a darlin’ name, sir!” Alayna said, smiling widely. Please, please just leave now. Trent now wanted to close his eyes and open them to find her gone from here, forever.

I can live with delusions. But not this being real. This can’t be real.

“Do you want me to leave sir?” She queried as if she could sense his unrest.

I’d want nothing more.

Trent’s throat closed and all he could do was white-knuckle grip the counter as the bad anxious feelings crushed his chest again.

“It was real good talking to you, see you later sir!” She said as she walked quietly away from him, shoes clicking on the hardwood floor.

Trent closed his eyes tightly, never hearing the door open and close.

This isn’t real. Why isn’t she leaving? Trent kept his eyes closed, until finally opening them, and immediately felt his stomach drop to the floor. The blanket he had given back was in front of him, on the floor, the front door was still unlocked, untouched and the girl was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t real. I’m having delusions. I’m losing my mind. Relieved and unnerved at the same time, Trent let his hand strike his forehead and realized he was incredibly warm. Do I have a fever? I must be sick. But I feel just fine.

He looked around the kitchen as calmly as he could, trying to find a thermometer to prove his hunch. There has to be one somewhere… He desperately fumbled around with the cabinets and cupboards, a bit disappointed in himself.

Why didn’t I think to pack one… Ah, here we are!

Trent eventually found one in an old dusty cupboard that looked as if Sharon hadn’t cleaned it in some time. He examined it for a moment, noticing it looked about as old as the cabin itself, or at least how old Trent figured the building was. I bet this thing still uses mercury. He washed the thermometer with cold water and soap out of fear, while trying to recall how long he was supposed to keep it in his mouth.

When was the last time I needed a thermometer anyway? I hardly get sick. Can being sick cause delusions? He stuck the small glass rod filled with mercury into his mouth, gently under his tongue while he furrowed his brow at his racing thoughts. I have heard of sick people making poor choices and perceiving things incorrectly as illness muddles their senses, but I’ve never heard of hallucinations while ill. Unless if I’m in a hospital bed, suffering from pain so horrible that my body is tricking me into believing everything is semi-okay. Was Alana or that dream real? Cahoon warned me and then suddenly there she was. If none of this is real, why does it feel so real? This isn’t right. Something just isn’t right. Did I ever make it up here in the first place?

Trent removed the thermometer from his mouth, gazing at it. 100 degrees Fahrenheit. He set the thermometer on the counter while he tried to figure out what to do.This isn’t good. I don’t have medication to lower my fever. I don’t have herbs. I can’t just call Sharon or Charles for a bit of medicine. I just need to make sure I stay hydrated. I can barely feel this fever, it’s the delusions that are worrying me. They can’t be real. But I have to figure something out. I have to.

I’ll only go to the field to call Sharon if things get worse, like if I get nauseous or something, regardless if there is some hallucination or wild animal waiting for me. Despite Trent’s best abilities to convince himself that he was just losing his mind to a particularly bad cold, something at the back of his brain doubted this. Before it could reach his conscious surface thoughts, Trent decided to distract himself with a little bit more drawing.