Midnight struck and her voices would not stop screaming. Isaac bolted upright, chest heaving in the dark. The rain fell in crashing sheets across the roof above him. Below the clink and bustle of the inn’s common room was audible. Isaac calmed. He was far from that place.
He tossed aside the sweat damped linens and stripped from his nightshirt. Her cries no longer clawed the inside of his skull, but unlike the dreams of his father’s house, they would not fade into obscurity upon his wake. She refused to leave him as he had left her. Isaac found his clothes, laid carefully where he’d left them.
Isaac left his small room and paused to lurk above the stairs. The voices below were loud with drink and he could hear them speak of travels, food, and women. They were common men, speaking of common things.
Their murmuring quieted as he stepped into the room. They thought him a thief, bartering his stay with silver chains and silk handkerchiefs. Isaac ignored the curious looks as he fastened his coat.
“Lad?” The innkeepers voice question came as he touched the front doors handle.
Isaac looked back at the old man. “I’ll need my horse readied.” He pushed his way into the yard before the innkeeper could warn him of the storm, the dark, or the road. The dead did not wait for clear skies and safe paths.
The horse shied as it was brought to him, shrinking back from his hand. Isaac wrapped his hands around the reins and forced the beast’s head down. In the crashing rain he pulled himself into the saddle and turned the horse toward the west road and his father’s house.