That
night the music returned. It roused Caryn, who wasn’t sure if it was a dream. It seemed so real. This time the violin was joined in harmony with a
woman’s voice. High and lilting, the woman sang of starlight and marble halls
hidden from mortals. Her voice was fluid and in perfect pitch with the violin,
but the inflection of her tone was pierced by sorrow. Unable to resist the lure
of the music, Caryn left the house. A cool breeze pressed the thin fabric of
her nightgown against her and tickled the ends of her hair across her shoulders
and arms. At the edge of the trees she thought she glimpsed a woman’s figure
moving ahead of her down the path leading into the woods. Following, she
struggled to listen to the words of the song. Sometimes it seemed as if the
woman was singing in another language. One she’d never heard before.
Entranced
and consumed by curiosity, Caryn continued down the path. It was blanketed in
mist. She barely noticed the cold, wet grass beneath her feet. The violin
played, its sound reaching a feverish crescendo. Then it stopped. The woman
paused for just a moment and Caryn remained near the edge of the trail.
In faith I followed him,
In sorrow he concealed you.
His deception born of kindness…
The
words were spoken, not sung.
“Who
are you?” Caryn called.
“Find
me,” the woman answered. She moved around a bend in the trail.
The
wind blew harder and the mist rose and curled as Caryn moved faster to catch
up. She stumbled, stubbing her toe against a rock. Pain shot through her leg
and she sat for a moment cradling her foot. The music and singing had stopped.
When she was able to hobble around the bend the woman she’d seen on the path
had vanished. The dull throbbing ache in her toe made her wonder if she’d been
sleepwalking all along.
“Caryn!” another voice cried.
