Chapter 64 - from out of the mist: part 1

143.
On the night of the 17th of June, a strange mist settled over the sleepy town of Caulbury. One so thick that those caught up in it could hardly see their own feet beneath them. For a few hours, the town was sealed in a tight cloud of vapour that glittered in the light of the full moon and refused stubbornly to disperse.

The next morning, the mist was gone, with not so much as a trace left to show that it had ever been there. Most of the townsfolk soon forgot all about it. A few days later, the whole thing might as well never have happened. Except, of course, for the fact that it did, and, as with most things that aren't remembered, this mist, all the same, left an invisible mark on each man, woman and child that it touched

144.
Faye had been acting strangely the last few days. Or, at least it'd seemed that way to Niall. Ever since Caroline's fete on the 14th, his blissfully lazy glutton of a girl - who spent her days reading silly books and shovelling snacks in her face - had turned gloomy and quiet. When he tried to talk to her, to feed her and tease her about the state of her figure, she barely seemed to hear him. Even when she was right beside him, her mind was miles away. It was as though a great gulf had grown between them, as though, all of a sudden, there was something about her that he just couldn't comprehend.

Over the last couple of days, even her manner of eating had changed. Now, rather than gobbling up her food without thought, Faye ate carefully and slowly, seeming to relish each bite. Niall could tell something was wrong, but whenever he tried to ask her about it, she would shake her head, smile at him, and assure him that everything was fine. In the end, there was little he could do. If Faye didn't want to talk, it might be best to give her some space. He got the feeling she might want to be left alone for a bit.

In this, though, Faye soon proved him wrong.

That day, in the early afternoon of the 17th of June, as Niall brought the fiery-haired girl a little snack to munch on, Faye turned to him, her gaze sober and serious in a way Niall had rarely seen before. "Sweetie," she said, "can you do me a favour?"

Niall stopped in his tracks; a bit taken aback at how focused his sleepy, fiery-haired fat girl seemed all of a sudden. "Of course," he answered, "anything you like."

"Well," Faye smiled ever so slightly, an expression Niall found strangely melancholy, "I'd like you to get me something to eat."

Niall's lips spread into a smirk. "Now *that* I think I can do. So, what would you like?"

Faye hesitated a moment, looking down at the pasty, doughy expanse of a belly that hung between her overly thick thighs. "I want everything," she said at last. "I want you to get me all my favourite foods, or, at least as many as you can. I want you to surround me with a huge feast, and then I want you to stay with me all day. I want you to feed me, to rub my belly and do all sorts of things to me," the rippling, red-headed butterball smiled sultrily at him. "Do you think you can do that?"

Niall wasn't slow to say yes. Though it took a bit of doing, he'd soon whipped Faye up a huge spread of all her favourite carb-rich, calorie-laden delicacies. As he placed her food before her, the melancholy look in his girlfriend's eyes faded, replaced with pure, gluttonous longing.

Still, as she started to eat, Faye's stuffing seemed slower and less ferocious than usual. Though she gobbled up her food with reckless abandon, her eating was a little more measured and controlled. She took more time to enjoy her feast, as though she feared she might never gorge like this again. With every other forkful Niall forced in her face, a little moan of pleasure would escape from between her lips.

"Oh sweetie," Niall whispered in the fiery-haired girl's ear some hours later, as he lay with his arms around her in bed, rubbing her tightly packed tummy, "you really are such a hungry pig. It's a wonder you were ever as thin as you were back when I found you."

With a little bit of effort, Faye flopped around to face him. Her belly and boobs pushed up against him, enveloping him as she snuggled closer into his embrace. "You know this is all your fault, right?" she asked, a half-accusing smile on her face. "If it wasn't for you, I would never have ended up like this. If your food hadn't been so good and if you hadn't been so, well, who you are, I'd have left this place ages ago. You were the one who made me want to stay here. You were the one who made me want to just eat and eat, even though I knew perfectly well what all that food would do to me." The fiery-haired girl grabbed a handful of fat off her belly for emphasis. "Just look at me now; look what you've done to me. I used to be thin and pretty, people used to admire me, but now they just think I'm a joke. I'm so far gone that I don't know if I can ever turn back." She pulled Niall closer. "This is all your fault," she whispered in his ear.

Niall did indeed look at Faye, at her ripe, round face, her drooping breasts, and all the many rolls and folds of loose, yielding flab that now rested limply against his body. "That's probably true," he agreed, "but you know what," he smiled and looked deep into her eyes, "I'm not the least bit sorry."

"No," Faye let out an involuntary laugh, "neither am I."

The fiery-haired girl stroked his face with her stubby, fat fingers. Then, she reached her hand around his neck and unclasped the leaf-shaped pendant she'd bought him more than a year ago.

"What are you doing, sweetie?" Niall furrowed his brow.

"I just want to borrow this for a bit," Faye said, a warm yet sad smile on her face. "Don't worry, you'll get it back soon."

145
Caroline Kincaid was a great believer in the refreshing and uplifting properties of the cool, summer-night air. As such, she'd been out for a walk with her friend, Mrs. Miller - who, though she didn't share Caroline's views on the matter, was only too happy to accompany her - when the strange events of that night had started.

Mrs. Miller had been the first to notice that something was wrong. All of a sudden, the shorter and stockier of the two women had stopped in her tracks. "What in the world is that?" she'd erupted, pointing in the direction of Auberlynne Hill.

As she'd turned to see what her friend was talking about, Caroline had also frozen in her tracks. A solid beam of pale light was streaming down from the full moon far above, illuminating the old henge atop Auberlynne Hill, its ancient stones shining in the silvery light. As the two women stood there, speechless at the strange sight they'd just been made witness to, a thick mist swiftly formed at the centre of the circle. Within moments, it'd started to spread. Pushed by a gentle yet persistent wind, it raced towards the town, and towards Caroline and Mrs. Miller.

"You know," said Caroline once she'd caught her wits, "I think it might be time we turned back. Somehow, I don't fancy getting caught up in that fog."

"No, I think you might be right about that," nodded Mrs. Miller. "Still, mist, at this time of year? I don't think I've ever seen the like."

The two women turned and hurried as best they could back into town, but the mist soon caught up with them. As it enveloped the two of them, Caroline thought that it was like no mist she'd ever seen. It seemed to glitter and sparkle in the moonlight. Though she continued to walk, Caroline's legs were starting to feel very heavy all of a sudden, as was her head. Drawing in a deep breath, she let out a loud yawn in the hopes of clearing her head, but the more of the mist she breathed in, the more tired she seemed to feel.

"That's strange," she said, turning back towards Mrs. Miller, "I can hardly seem to keep my eyes open."

Mrs. Miller, however, could no longer hear her. Upon turning around, Caroline found her friend curled up in the middle of the street, snoring like a log. She moved to shake the woman and wake her up, but before she could do so her legs failed and she sank down on the ground beside her. She just couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. Fast asleep, Caroline didn't even so much as notice as four warriors in white armour, followed by a wooden carriage drawn by a train of great deer, passed across the field beside her.