“There's
something odd going on here,” he tells himself. “Of course there
is, you idiot,” he continues. “This is the Weave, it's the
definition of odd.” He pauses. “And when did I become the type
of person who talks to himself?”
He resolves
to try not to worry about what he's seeing and just get to the
cottage. He picks up his pace and tries not to notice that the
closer he gets, the more the building collapses in front of him. The
breeze is almost constant now, and the children's laughter
uninterrupted. By the time he's covered half the distance, two of
the cottage's walls have collapsed, it has lost its roof and what
remains has been engulfed by an overgrowing garden.
