Crewel

don’t ask. Even though I can’t hear them here, I would be able to see their mouths moving, but they remain tight-lipped. Right now they seem intent on letting me continue my manipulation of the strands and ignoring each other. Whatever brotherly love might exist between them, they aren’t exactly giddy at their reunion. But there’s no time for distractions. I push these concerns out of my mind and work harder at opening a new rift. Once it’s big enough to stick an arm through it occurs to me that it might be smart to poke my head in and get a look at what I’ve got myself into. I don’t want to drop us into the middle of an ocean after all.
    I barely make out a cry of protest from one of the boys as I wiggle my head into the misplaced strands. It’s dark. A large full moon casts a faint glow on shadowy objects all around me. I’m hanging above a street edged by a row of buildings. The light bounces off the black and in the distance it fades to twinkling gold. There’s a stillness to the scene that makes it feel false. Another illusion. But as if to contradict me, a soft breeze brushes my face and tosses my hair. The scene remains relatively unchanged, but as my eyes adjust, I make out the wind tossing stray debris across the road. I hear the scrape of paper on concrete.
    The good news is that we are not hovering over the middle of the ocean, but the bad news is that I have no idea where we are or what to expect of this world – Earth. It’s more desolate than I imagined, which seems stupid, because I know there is no one left living on this layer. But there’s shelter and, if we’re lucky, maybe food. I suppose I thought others might have made their way out, but how could they without a Creweler?
    Without me?
    Regardless, it’s the best option we have. I could try to open a rift and bring us back into Arras, but that would be even more dangerous. Loricel may have helped us escape, but she won’t be in a position to help us if we return. I can’t be sure she’s even alive, and they’ll be watching for our personal identifying sequences in the weave. No, it’s not safe to return, so there’s no other choice. Pulling back into the open weave, I work faster, more sure of myself now that I know we’ll be safe when the entrance is large enough. I don’t bother to look at either Jost or Erik. I’ll have to deal with that drama later. Right now I have a job to do.
    Time is coarser in the raw weave and my already scarred fingers soon begin to feel the work, despite the calloused tips Maela gave me. Having two other lives here depending on me, and desperately needing to get through and figure out what to do about Sebrina and Amie, I ignore the ache in my hands. They’re in danger every second we waste on the surface, and, unlike during the moments I wove within the Coventry, time will continue to move forward in both realities.
    When I finally manage to carve out a wide enough gap, I nod dramatically to let my companions know we need to go through. I see Jost’s mouth moving, and his eyes squint in concern. I shake my head to let him know I can’t hear him and reach out with my free hand to suggest that he should enter. His mouth forms one word that’s easy enough to read: No. Fine. Sooner or later he’s going to want to come through. Of course, if I let go of him, he’ll return to falling and probably never find this open space again. About the time I realise I’m chewing on the inside of my cheek, Erik impatiently struggles to the open spot. His left arm is still on my waist, and he pulls me along with him, like he’s swimming in the air. When his free arm slips through the hole, he releases me and catapults himself forward, disappearing entirely. I turn back to Jost and raise my eyebrows. His arm tightens around me, and he frowns, but seems to realise that anything’s better than being stuck in this interspace. Moving forward more slowly than his brother, he smoothly pulls me along until we are at the mouth of the opening. Looking at me for reassurance, he takes a deep breath and drags us both through. We land in a pile of crumbling concrete; it looks like the remains of a road. Apparently my hole wasn’t exactly flush with the ground of the real world, but it’s not so bad. We could have fallen much further.
    ‘I thought maybe you were dropping me off,’ Erik calls to us, his usually droll voice flat. He’s already on the edge of the ruins, and he doesn’t stop for us.
    ‘Dare to