There's a rustle and the woman steps onto the ledge, and holds out her hand.
You pause, blink. "I, uh, don't think..."
"Trust me?"
After a moment's consideration you take her hand, and as the fingers wrap around yours the warmth wraps around you, even as the wind picks up, gusting and eddying through the room. The sill is wider than it appears, but not wide enough when you look down and see the swirling blackness below. The moonlight shining through the window doesn't seem to extend downward at all.
"Don't fight the wind. That's all it takes." She plunges forward, pulling you along.
Your stomach drops and you feel a flash of terrifying uncertainty, and then realize you aren't going straight down... the wind does seem to be holding you aloft. You stretch out your other arm, and are swept up, almost pulling away from her hand. Managing to hold on you notice a strange sensation of a membrane stretching from you fingers to your side that the wind moves against and through at the same time. Settling into the disturbing, but pleasurable sensation you notice that from time to time you seem to veer crazily, and realize that she is forgetting her own advice and fighting the air currents. Inevitably she relaxes and you return to the flow.
Suddenly you plunge downward in a spiral of motion. Your senses scream, and you fight to keep your thoughts clear. Then you land with a strong bump. When you gather yourself you realize that the same distant rumble has gotten louder and is beneath you.
"Are you alright?"
You look up, trying to locate her, and realize you are on a train. And old train. The seats are large, overstuffed, and covered in the same red velvet as the walls. The floor is a plush carpeting, red with gold swirls. Hauling yourself up you turn around to face her... there is a woman, she looks familiar, but you can't make our her features. You squint, but no luck. Her dress is a indigo, her skin tinged with an earthy tone... you can sense she is smiling, but you can't see it.
"Well? Are you hurt?"
"Um, no. I'm fine."
"You should have a seat then, before the train takes another curve."
"Do you mind if I sit here?" You motion to the seat next to her.
"Of course not. It's your seat."
She turns her head to look into the darkness. "Isn't it beautiful? Amazing. There's so much... and yet... "
You lean forward, trying to see through the window. It's pitch black... odd... not even your reflection. It's hypnotizing, deep. Starting you feel a sting on your forehead and automatically try to brush it away. Your hands get tangled in leaves, and you blink rapidly. The sky is glowing with a pink-orange light. A small bat swoops down and hangs from the branch inches from your nose. "Sorry. I forgot you couldn't hear the tree. Especially since this one doesn't ever say much." The bat glares at the tree with glistening black eyes. Then whisperes, "and the apples are bland."
The branch breaks in your hand, and the bat plunges to the ground, landing with a soft thud. You bend over to see if it's alright, and nearly smack your head against a knee.
"Absolutely obnoxious. Apple trees have such attitude." She mutters. "Anyway, I thought you might be getting hungry?"
Actually you are, your realize. The moment she said it your stomach growled.
"Well, Ratha is wonderful cook. Don't take the griping seriously. She's melodramatic."
"Ratha?" You follow her through a bush into a small cave. The ground is hot beneath your feet, and the sand black. The walls are decorated with strange runes in varying shades of red. Mats of woven pine needles are placed on the floor a respectable distance from a small fire. A cat the size of a pony bounds out of the darkness, carrying a black pot in her teeth. As you watch she stands. You can now see that she has a strange cross between hands,feet and paws. The nails extend into sharp, ebony points. Her skin is the color of terracotta, spotted with black. The fur seems to be a peach fuzz that covers her entire body down to the long, elegant tail that sweeps behind her. Her eyes are wide and golden green, her face elongated, her ears topped with long black tufts that curl down like plumes.
"Welcome." She rumbles. "I hope you like rabbit. That's what I'm hunting. They've come out in hordes to eat the fresh clover."
"Um... sure..." You can barely take a breath before she goes on.
"Cut up those tubers." She nods at a bowl full of vegetables you hadn't seen by one of the mats. "And you come up with some water to boil." The woman takes the pot and it is instantly full of water. The cat-woman makes a chortling sound, her tail twitching furiously, and she licks the surface of the water delicately. "I love it when you do that!" With no more pretense she bounds into the fading light.
"That's Ratha?"
"Yes."
"What is she? Who is she?"
"She's me, and sometimes she's her." The woman sits down on the mat next to you, and nibbles on a purple vegetable you don't recognize.
"Ah." It makes sense somehow, and you wonder if you've lost reality permanently.
The woman leans against you, still nibbling on the vegetable and staring into the steaming water. With a strange sense of contenment you set to chopping tubers.