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Or flee from it, to the ends of the world. And the role of a Wanderer was not to escape danger, but to face one's destiny. Unfortunately.The door slid open, and the blazing fire almost blinded us. The furnace was lit, all right, but the Garoth House was saving a lot of money by not having to buy any greencoal.It was a goodly sized room, with the far wall occupied by the huge, black metal oven that dominated the chamber, tall and fat like a monstrous bipedal creature. Apart from it there was a full crate of greencoal, spades for shoveling it into the gaping mouth of the iron beast, and a rickety bed and table which must belong to the firedancer.He was chanting his invocation, now at the top of his lungs, his injuries did not seem to bother him anymore, and neither did the infernal heat coming from the living flames. For the flames were truly alive. Not the poetic life of a crackling wood-fire or dancing candle-flame, but alive with a dreadful will and purpose. Tentacles or serpentine. The only person I wanted to talk to was John, but he was at work. I didn’t know how he was going to react to what my husband said and did. He called me as soon as he woke up. He was tired and didn’t sound like himself. The longer we talked the more he insisted, ‘What is wrong with you?’ I couldn’t keep it from him. I poured my heart to him. I explained the full condition of my marriage. His drinking, his lack of affection, everything just came out. He listened and calm me down. He told me that I should do something, just not sure what. I asked him about a restraining order. He didn’t know anything about it at all. I called my friends and learned what to do. When I talked to John, he promised to go with me after he got off work tomorrow morning. After spending most of the morning at city hall with me, John drove me to my car and went home to sleep. He had been up for roughly 24 hours straight. I went home and waited for the police to arrive. I found my husband sleeping in his normal.
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