When Aramith opened his eyes, he was in a familiar and unfamiliar place.
The smell of wood, the sound of birds and rustling leaves, and the soft glow of the morning sun made him aware of where he was.
He'd had that nightmare again; fighting to save that girl in the alley, then walking off with her on his back as the rain fell.
That dream or vision had appeared so many times that he could never know the number. But once in a while, it threw him in disarray. Luckily, this wasn't one of those times.
He hadn't paid attention at first, but now he was aware of the person lying beside him when he tried to move. His heart pounded, and his eyes watered as he looked down on Mozrael, who was curled up on the bed.
What have I done?
The question weighed heavily on his mind and heart. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do anymore, so how was he supposed to assure her that things would be alright?
She stirred in her sleep and gripped his arm.
"I'll keep him safe," she muttered.
