Each night since the… incident… it was the same.


She dreamed of flying, only to be torn apart by eagles, waking only moments before, screaming, she hit the ground.  She dreamed of teeth that chased her in the dark, and smiling human street children that turned into dead-eyed, shark-smiling monstrosities that latched on and held her while something larger lumbered closer and closer to the corner…


She dreamed of oceans that went on forever, under an unforgiving alien moon.


She dreamed of snarling naga, snapping a glowing collar around her neck.


She dreamed…


And each night she awoke, throat hurting, grateful for the sound dampening spells on her tent, paws unsteady and shaking.  Each day was one that had her a little more tired, a little duller – but she smiled.  Always, she smiled.  


She tried twice to tell the healers, only to have her throat sieze up with each attempt – she could almost here the Gentle One chuckling in her ear, shark teeth nipping, a whispered voice tut-tutting like her Uncle used to do when she stole almond cookies.  It hardly mattered – the healers at the Templar camp were so overwhelmed by the incoming wounded and the demands the war was placing on them that a relatively unharmed Pandaren was the least of their worries.  

She tried to tell Kun – but that went almost as nowhere, with her sister giving her a look like she’d broken something in her head and proscribing copious amounts of beer, which .. worked on at least two occasions, but left her hung-over and no better rested in the morning once she’d had enough that the dreams left her alone (or she grew numb to them – she wasn’t quite sure which).  But, still, she worked – sometimes on the ship, sometimes at the camp, doing what she could with reserves that depleted more each day.


Last night, she set up the book to show her… well.  Cael.  She had a picture she’d drawn, once, of Cael and Kun and that really nice Draenei in the hot-springs, and when she discovered that the book would ‘eat’ pictures and save them, she’d done just that.  Now, it had her notes, her art, all preserved in its faintly glowing pages – and this picture?  THis was her favorite.  Everyone was happy.


That night, she dreamed of drowning while they laughed and splashed each other, and didn’t see her.

Tonight, she laid out the dreamless sleeping potion she’d originally bought for Cael – and with a shaking paw drank it, just before bed.

Author Aunne
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