Bridget went to her cabin in the Grove. Rook, Stillwater and Breathwoven were waiting for her inside.
"I don't want to see any of you," She said flatly, annoyed that they were in her space uninvited.
They said words, but she couldn't make them out...
"I said leave," her cadence quickened as her voice began to darken.
They said more words. It didn't matter what they were. Bridget was done. Her annoyance turned to anger. Her anger turned to rage. Her rage turned to fury. She thought about where she should be now, without their wild goose chase of the previous night. She thought about Nova actually fucking happy. About her not having to hide from him... protect him from his own self-destruction.... their absolute fucking arrogance, thinking have any right encroaching on human business... how they have never trusted her, never seen her as anything more than...
"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!!!!" She screamed and chased them out the door, waving her hands, stomping at them, chucking a memory off the wall at them.
She slammed the door behind them and fell into a puddle on the couch, staring straight ahead. She noticed eyes in her window. She huffed and drew all her curtains. Then a faint hint of Stillwater's fog came trailing under Bridget's front door.
Fury, rage, grief, betrayal... it moved her to her feet. She ran outside.
"I. Am. The Architect." She reminded herself aloud. And then turned all her emotions to the land below her. It rumbled and began to crack. Either side of the crack began pushing against each other. It began to raise up into a mountain. The Earth rumbled and groaned, as it rose into the air, with her little cabin at the summit.
She stood tall now, on top of a tall mountain, the wind whipping her hair around her face. And she asked spirits to come in to keep her company. River spirits, swamp spirits, forest spirits came live with her. They all took up residence as stones, moss, trees, wildflowers, water, animals… and one single pink flamingo.