Emotional States: bored, wants to grow up, feels abandon by his father, selfish, self-serving, trickster, wants to go home, wants his parents and Layla’s approval, wants to prove self, angry about book, feels responsible for the book, resents Layla judging him.

Situations: attacked by bird, hungry, tired, lost, portal takes him someplace else, Layla leaves him with children and disappears, night comes, where can they sleep, Lillian gets lost, Lillian speaks their father’s name, the book is threatened, there is a bridge over the river, saves Lillian.

Secondary Characters: Layla, Lillian, Ashe, mother, father, soldiers, man in the woods, Father Innocenzo, Father Ignatius, bird, father’s friend Angelo, the book is a character-its pages flutter like a bird’s wings, it slides and guides them, it raises up, distracting him so Jack loses his grip and falls near Layla and the others where he wants to be.

With Jack holding Lillian’s hand, they crossed the footbridge over the river. There Layla found lingonberry bushes. While Layla and Lillian picked the berries, Jack roamed the edge of the woods until he found wild cloudberries. Jack had never eaten so many berries and they had never tasted so satisfying. He lay down on the soft grass, one arm behind his head and soaked in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The air was still, and the valley was quiet as before. Lillian came over and rested her head in the crook of his other outstretched arm. She lay in the same position as Jack; looking up at the sky, one arm behind her head and her ankles crossed. They stayed that way, breathing gently, their stomachs full of berries. Jack glanced at Lillian’s thin legs poking out of her blue trousers, ankles intersecting. Her face was placid and wiser than her six years. Lillian had called “Papa,” when the powerful flight of the bird had shot at them head on, coming dangerously close to her. Jack stayed silent, he did not want to break the spell of Lillian’s words. They lay like that until Lillian fell asleep on Jack’s arm. Sleep. Jack slid his arm carefully out from under his sister’s head and sat up. They would need a place to sleep. He stood up and looked at Layla holding Ashe.

This side of the river had hills and ravines eroded by the river, unlike the side where Jack had landed next to Layla and the others on the grassy glade circled by red alder trees. Jack nodded to Layla, directing himself toward the ravine bordered with deciduous trees. When he came back hours later, Layla had gathered berries for them in her scarf and Ashe and Lillian were awake and ready to follow him to the shelf in the earth, much like the caves in the woods around Sant’Anna, but open on one side. They collected firewood on the way and built a small fire while the sun set, although the evening was comfortably warm. When the two smaller children had been settled on a heap of leaves and grass assembled inside the protective barrier, Layla got up to stretch her legs. She walked out into the fading sunshine. That was when Jack saw the shimmering air with gentle whorls like he had seen in the woods when the soldiers were setting fire to the church. The words to Layla were forming in his mind when the undulating air wafted close to her. Layla’s questioning look and the edges of her form rippling, dissolving in the fluttering light, faded.

“Jack-,” she said.

Then she was gone. Jack turned to look at Lillian and Ashe asleep on the soft leaves, the fire glowing on their faces.

Revision: Isla Dream

Isla fell asleep. It was finally a deep, still sleep. She was oddly aware as her unconscious mind started unfolding. She was in a field of red poppies that swayed in a warm breeze. Soft, cotton-like cumulus clouds hung close to the ground, their flat bases looked silver in the low light. Isla breathed deeply and then, turning, she saw Matt waving to her. He looked like he did when they first met, smiling shyly, head lowered. His curly hair meeting his long dark lashes. He became smaller and smaller as he continued to wave to Isla. He was walking toward their house, the shiny black door was open and inviting. As Matt neared the house, he became smaller and smaller and the house began to fade with him.

Next, Isla found herself walking along the river at sunset, the sunlight reflected pink on the water. Along the ancient parapet lining the waterway, someone had lit a row of candles like a trail of breadcrumbs for Isla to follow home. Isla hovered above the scene, watching herself walk past the bridge that the river had threatened to overpower. The water rippled quietly with reflections of the yellow buildings along its run. She continued to walk past the arches where the street led to the main square with the spraying fountain of Neptune. She left the buildings fading behind her like Matt and the house. She continued in the direction the river flowed toward the hills outside the city. She was neither exhilarated nor sad. She looked at her feet as they proceeded firmly, trusting they knew the where to carry her.

Her sleep became deeper and more focused with each step she took out of the city. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic. Isla was no longer suspended above herself. Her hovering-self melded comfortably into her sleeping body. Her lungs filled with air, relaxing with each exhale. Her limbs downy and weightless, Isla’s eyes fluttered in time with her dream, a wisp of red hair fell across her unlined face. In the time that it took to dream, Isla found her way out of the storm and back to her sleeping self.