Among the Fallen - Episode 8
In Episode 8 of Among the Fallen, Ellajane Trammell loses her way in the woods. However, as the crow flies, home is much nearer than she imagines.
In Episode 8 von Among the Fallen verliert sich Ellajane Trammell im Wald. In Luftlinie ist das Zuhause jedoch viel näher, als sie sich vorstellt.
HOME BY DARK
“These woods are dark and deep at least, Mister Frost,” Ellajane said aloud to the trees crowding round. She could barely see the path now in the gloaming wood. Whistles and growls and moans and howls from invisible and unfamiliar throats dissipated her calm. Twigs scraped her face as she blundered off the path. Momentarily she lost her bearings, couldn't recall which way she had been walking toward, or which direction was homeward. Something only slightly darker than the air hurdled at her out of the deepening night. An owl? No, a crow, that settled to the ground right in front of her and croaked what may have been warning or command or plea or invitation.
This way, it translated in her mind, as the corvid lofted again and flew away toward an opening among the trees, that grew brighter as she followed. It seemed to Ellajane that she had been walking for hours, but when she emerged from the indeterminate wood, the waning afternoon was still as bright as when she'd crossed her garden in search of her boarder.
Standing among her familial flowers on ground that she named her own, she saw across the garden, the crow guide, perched on her porch railing. She stopped, panting, looked down aghast, commenced brushing away the spider webs and leaves her apron had accumulated during her sylvan perambulations, and when she looked up again, there was no crow, only Wendl VonTrier standing on her porch, his face, that might, in another world, have belonged to a crow, emulating a human smile,
“I've been wandering,” Ellajane wheezed breathlessly, as she approached, having thought of nothing beyond the obvious to communicate.
Wendl’s changeable and unsettling face manifest an expression resembling human mirth, “Not all who wander are tossed,” he murmured, and opened the screen for her to pass through to her kitchen. The first thing she saw was that her oven was still on and there was no meatloaf sitting on the counter. She was certain she’d taken it from the oven before she went out.
“Dear Lord,” a whispered exclamation. “My meatloaf!” a louder urgency. She grabbed a towel from the back of a chair, dashed across the room and threw open her oven door. She felt a wash of mild relief when no smoke billowed forth. She didn’t smell burning, at least, only meatloaf. Folding the towel between the hot pan and her tender fingers she hauled out the pan and set it atop the stove. The meatloaf was the proper shade of golden, piping hot and…
“Just right,” said Wendl over her shoulder.
Ellajane turned off the oven, sighed a wordless prayer of gratitude.
“Will we eat this, then?” murmured Wendl VonTrier.