'Sir..?' It was Miriam knocking on his door.
'What is it?' he asked her, raising his head up to face the door, still half trapped in his maze of unanswered questions.
'I brought you dinner, sir,' she answered in a low voice.
He withheld his response for a while, then said, 'Bring it in,' he mumbled the answer from his lips like each word had the potential of causing a toothache.
There was the turning of the doorknob then she came in, a big silver tray in her hands. She pulled a small table from beside his mirror and put it in front of him and then she placed the tray on it.
'I thought I did tell you there was food where I was going?'
'Of course you did, sir, but I just thought there would not be enough.'
He sighed, 'Very well then.'
She curtsied and headed for the door.
'Brendan.'
He chuckled, 'That's a surprise.'
'Did you want something else, sir? Did I forget anything?' She had stopped by the door, her hand on the knob.
'I mean it's a surprise, you calling me by my name.' He was wearing a smile, now getting ready to eat.
'You must be mistaken, sir. I have never called you by your first name,' she politely denied.
'Brendan.'
'Then who's..?' He paused, his ears attentive and his head moving on a swivel.
'Who's what, sir?' She moved forward and listened hard as well, careful not to miss what he was going to say.
'Are you telling me you don't hear that?' he asked her.
'Sir…are you feeling well?'
'Brendan.'
The voice was familiar. He threw his fork and knife into the tray and they made a very loud clang in antagonism.
'Is something wrong, sir?' she asked him again as he marched out.
The voice was calling him much louder now and he recognized it.
'Sir…is something wrong?' She followed him, wondering if she had said something to offend her boss.
'I have to go for a while, Miriam; I won't be long.'
'What about your food, sir?'
He jogged down the stairs.
'Sir..?'
'Just, uh…' he paused. The expression on his face was as if this question was offensive. 'Eat it yourself. If you can't, throw it away,' his response was from an almost unconscious mind. 'Don't wait up on my account,' he concluded.
When he stepped outside the house, the voice became louder.
'Come to me,' it said.
'Where are you?' he asked it.
'Forest.'
He did not waste any more time. He zoomed out to the forest with his heightened speed and he stopped somewhere in the center of it. It was so dark he could hardly see anything.
'Take a hundred-and-five steps to your left,' the voice told him.
He obediently did as instructed and he stopped by a large tree. He touched and felt it. Its roughness suggested that it was probably an acorn tree. 'You're not giving me much to work with here!' he said.
'Oh, sorry about that. Climb up the tree in front of you.'
He climbed up the tree slowly because he did not know which branch the voice was coming from.
'The half branch,' the voice told him.
'Well I'm not nocturnal!' he retorted.
'The branch three feet above your head, to the right.'
He felt around his head like a blind man before he felt the front of a half amputated branch. He touched its side but his hand went through to the other side. He could feel another small stump from the other side; it was warm there. He took one long breath and pulled himself inside.
This domain was sunny-bright. Like the other one, there was a small bridge to his left and a cottage. Everything here was identical to the last.
The Finch was outside with her cauldron. She was sprinkling some green powder in it before stirring with her giant wooden mixing stick as if she were cooking.
He walked over to her.