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The Wandering Weaver

  Chapter 6

  I woke up with a start. As my eyes adjusted to the bright light above me, I realized I was not in my room. I looked around and found myself on a sterile white bed. My mother was sitting next to the bed, a look of relief passing over her face as I looked at her.

  "Jorth! What happened? I found you in your room passed out. I brought you to the healers to have them look over you."

  I groaned, and tried to speak, but my mouth was dry. "How long was I out?" I asked, voice raspy. My mother quickly brought a cup of water that was sitting near the bed.

  "Drink. You've been out for 3 days now, I imagine you're parched." I was. I gulped down the water. "What happened?" my mother asked again.

  "I touched it. I tried to create a thread. I think I got close, but a sudden pain shot through me and the next thing I remember in waking up here."

  "You're lucky to be alive, boy," a gruff voice called out from the other side of the room. "Any one else would have died trying to create threads. You're meant to guide them from the Spool and Weave them, not create them with just will and raw power."

  Wish someone had told me that before I tried. "Who are you?" I asked, instead.

  "Just a wanderer. Don't try that again until you're allowed to take the class. You're too young to be messing with the Spool and Loom." An elderly man with a pock-filled faced said, as he turned around and left the room.

  "He never told us who he was, but he saved your life," mom said. "He's a Weaver, and without him, you'd have burnt out your body with as much power as he said you drew on."

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  "Oh," was all I could say. That explains what happened, though. I had drawn more power than my body could handle trying to create something that shouldn't be possible. The fact that I had almost succeeded, I think I would keep to myself, for now, until I knew more. But now I knew the font of power was the Spool, and the act of Weaving required the Loom. What that was, I didn't know yet, but I suspected it was my will or imagination or something. I kept such thoughts to myself, though, as my mother was busy looking over me like a prized horse, trying to make sure I was all right.

  "I'm fine, mom, you can stop examining me like a prized possession, now, thanks." I said dryly.

  "Are you sure? Any pain when I do this?" She said as she poked my shoulder.

  "No, no pain at all... OUCH!" I began to say as she smacked me up side the back of my head.

  "Never do that again! I thought I had lost you!" She yelled.

  "I won't, mother, I'm sorry. I was just trying to figure it out, is all."

  "Then wait until you're old enough to take the class! I thought you were smarter than this!"

  "Apparently not," I said, "But, you live and you learn."

  "You should probably stick to learning so you CAN live, the old fashioned way, by being taught by someone who knows what they're doing!"

  "Yes, mother" I replied, sheepishly.

  "Now, you've missed a couple days of school, though it's likely stuff you already know."

  "I'm feeling better now, mom, can we go home?" I asked.

  "Once they come in to check you over, yes. Until then, just be patient." At least she had stopped fussing over me. Now I just had to wait until the healer fussed over me. I sighed internally.

  A little while later, an older lady came in. "How is our littlest Weaver? Any pain, soreness?"

  "No, ma'am, I feel fine." I replied.

  "Good. Look at me." She proceeded to ask me questions about how I felt, if anything felt off or weird. After looking me over, she said "Good, you look much better. You're lucky that Weaver was coming through and knew immediately what had happened. Kind of shocked him, though. Guess kids your age don't usually touch the Spool. I'm clearing you to go home now, but no more experimenting, young man!"

  The walk home was eerily quiet. When we got home, I went to my room. Nothing looked out of place. I had collapsed in the middle of my bed, but nothing around me had been in danger. I went to the middle of my bed and looked around. There, laying about where I collapsed was a brown thread that hadn't been there before...

  "So it did finish... What does this mean, though? The old Weaver said that this isn't possible, but clearly it is..."

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