Famine #50: Just a Dream

Hola, Weekend Writing Warriors, friends, and followers! It's my anniversary weekend. Mr. Pierce and I have been married for seventeen years. (At least one of us deserves sainthood for that.) So I may be lax on making the WeWriWa rounds today. I wanted to post this little snippet as a counterpoint to Bartholomew's harsh words for Matilde last week. This follows a few pages after that confrontation. Bartholomew has learned that a disturbing dream had roused Matilde from bed and sent her searching through the books in his study.

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737px-Gustave_Dore_Inferno_Canto_21Matilde suddenly threw her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. “Please don’t die.”

For a heartbeat, Bartholomew looked down at his ward then he wrapped his arms around her and murmured, “It was just a dream, ma chérie.”

She nodded against him. “It felt so real, and so awful.”

“Just a dream.” He caught her shoulders, eased her back, and leaned down to look into her eyes. “I’m fighting fit, Matilde, and too stubborn to die.”

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Okay, so the truth of that last sentence is a bit complicated, but she can find that out later. Thanks for stopping by and leaving comments. You guys, as always, are awesome. And please remember to check out the other WeWraWri participating blogs here.

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