Bronwyn lay in bed and stared at the rotating ceiling fan. Despite her long and adventurous day, slumber would not visit. She realized she was much too tense to sleep. For starters, Bethany had greatly annoyed her on the walk back to the inn. She had launched into a barrage of questions to support her growing suspicion that Bronwyn was on drugs. Against her better judgment, Bronwyn had attempted to tell Bethany of some of the strange events. She mentioned nothing of her deleted stories, realizing it would be impossible to try and explain seeing she had no explanation for it herself. She confided to Bethany that she thought there were peculiar happenings in Moonshine. She mentioned Falcon, the secret locked garden, and the covert meeting between him and Travis that she had stumbled upon. Bethany barely listened, dismissing the stories completely only to ask more questions about her psyche. It was obvious Bethany had become a recent student of Trent’s philosophies.
Feeling defeated, Bronwyn fell into bed, feigning exhaustion and sleep to escape Bethany’s constant advice. She listened to the heavy breathing of her two roommates, her mind too active to sleep.
She quietly slipped from the bed and crept out of the room, tiptoed down the stairs and walked out the back door. The night air was surprisingly cool. The mugginess of the evening had dissipated. She took a seat on the cushioned porch swing, swaying back and forth with ease, hoping the rhythm of the swing combined with the chorus of croaking toads and chirping crickets would be the sleeping aid she desperately needed. The fresh air and change of scenery did wonders to relax the tenseness of her body and slowed down the ramblings of her mind.
Unexpectedly, she heard voices coming from far down the cobblestone path. She raised her head from the back of the swing, then descended the porch steps and crept quietly down the stony path. She sensed a disturbance in one of the gardens. The sound of a scuffle and voices. An intense argument. She couldn’t tell which garden they came from. As she walked, the commotion grew louder.
Bronwyn approached the gate to the sixth garden. It was unlatched. She pushed it open slowly, hoping the gate would not creak and alert the garden‘s occupants. Her slender finger slid across the rough wood. As she pushed open the rough heavy door, a splinter found its way deep underneath her skin. Bronwyn pulled her hand away from the gate, quickly recoiling at the unwanted pain. She examined the splinter and realized it would take tweezers and much better light in order for her to remove it.
She slipped quietly into the garden. Large trees and vines created a canopy at the entrance. This provided Bronwyn with the perfect cover for her clandestine investigation. If Travis would not tell her what was going on, she would find out on her own. She inched her way past the massive oaks, her slender body slithering through silently thru the hanging foliage of the weeping willows. The soft earth beneath her bare feet allowed no noise, muffling her approach. The canopy of leaves kept her hidden and provided her with secrecy.
The ruckus grew louder. The angry voices were now clear. She continued to move from tree to tree, keeping under the weeping willows as she made her way closer to the center of the garden. She began to see figures moving up ahead. Reaching out her hand, she slowly parted the hanging branches. The heat rushed upon her, overwhelming her as she again saw the apparition she had first noticed the night of her arrival.