The Satyr with the Swishing Tail, Part 5

Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four

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So there it is. I figured it’s time I found a new girlfriend to dish dirt to, and I’ve told you all I’ve told her about it.

All up until a couple of days ago, that is.

It was the night before the flood, I remember well. Archimides was at his conference and I had been cleaning out the shed, out behind the smithy. Lately the dreams had been getting more clear; he told me he knew where I am and that I should stay here, because he’s trying to find his way to me. I fixed up an old folding bunk, put a dingy tarp over the bare ground, I even had the chimney swept. It must look foolish from the outside, seeing me act this way, especially now that you know why.

But after working for hours and hours, I went in to do some sewing. I have commissions lining up after all. I flopped down in my favorite rocking chair with my tabard in progress and as I was doing some hand-hemming, the flames of the fireplace got a bit hypnotic, and with the rhythm of the stitches and the motion of the chair, I must have dozed off. Only it didn’t feel at the time like I dozed off. But I swear I heard, as though someone were standing right next to my left ear and speaking into it, a word.

A name.