F - Thyme Changes

Unsure what to do, but sick of staring at sand, Thyme rose and made
her way into the small marketplace that had risen in the desert, tents
and camps encircling it. she thought only to look around in peace, with
no one to distract, to disturb. But among the tie-dye and beads,
incense and other familiar smells, she saw a woman, and was suddenly
compelled to speak.

"You shouldn't have come."

The round woman spun, searching for the voice.

"You don't belong here. You should leave."

Realizing the sound was nearer the ground, she looked over the front
counter at a small, red-haired child, with huge green eyes.

"Where are your parents?"

"Somewhere. I'm going to tell them."

She meant to turn back to her jewelry, but something in the girl's
voice held her. Or maybe it was the eyes.

"Tell them what?" she challenged, hands lost between the folds of waist
and hip.

"The truth."

She knew something wasn't right. This child felt wrong. What was
it?

"And then no one will buy your things."

Cold, hard, it gripped her ribs, held her breath captive. No one knew.
She'd been to hundreds of these festivals, her "mystical" ornaments
moving as fast as she could "craft" them. But if those freaks found out
she wasn't . . .

"Go where you want to be," the small voice continued. "Go where they
don't know. Just go."

A child, speaking to her like that, giving her commands. She wanted to
grab it's arms, threaten to tell the parents they gave birth to a
thief, snatching things from the stalls while everyone was still
asleep. They'd be embarrassed, leave in shame. But her feet wouldn't
move, and she couldn't seem to make even a squeak.

"I'm telling."

The bizarre thing turned and walked away, the woman's eyes fixed on her
retreating form. Not until the sight disappeared could the woman move
again.

"Ridiculous child, thinking she can scare me," the woman muttered as
she started packing the more fragile pieces in bubble wrap before
placing them in the hard sided luggage stashed under the counter.

Thyme was rolling up her blanket, still thinking about that nasty
woman, when she realized that she hadn't "looked" at her. Before, she
had always fixed, and looked, but . . .

"Are you ready to go, kid?"

Right. He'd been right all along, and Sharon would know that now. He
was more important than anything.

Relief. Her baby was okay, and now they could go home.

Thyme hadn't looked at her parents when she knew. She forced her eyes
to focus on the blanket she was wrestling, but she still knew. She's
always had to see someone to see. But now, now everything would
change.