18
In the days that followed I couldna help but feel that we were being watched. Bram hadna been himself either. Always lookin’ over his shoulder, wary of every little noise. He was so skittish that it became unbearable.
“Bram, we canna live like this. It’s not healthy.”
He ripped out the words impatiently. What do ye want me to do? Time travel again? He’ll only follow us there.
I turned away. We couldna have a decent conversation anymore wi’out one of us gettin’ angry or short-tempered. I hated what became of us. I needed to talk to my mother, maybe she’d have an answer.
“I’m going roamin’. I won’t be gone long.”
No. Yer stayin’ put. It's not safe.
“Bram, I willna be held up like a prisoner in my own home and neither should you. I’ll be back.” And left.
I didna know where to go to
