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((Just so you know, Singer's internet is down and he'll be here when he can.))

"Yes, I suppose that all things that sound romantic aren't necessarily untrue. I suppose that it is better to think of it that way." He laughed softly. "What wonders lay before us? What challenges? What exhibitions? I want to grow stronger so that Zeal will..." he stopped himself and blushed deeply. "Well, it's of no concequince."

"Yes, that is for us to decide. We must all stay together and make all our efforts the best we can give. Thank you Rath, I very much appreciate the words. Maybe it will be more possible to rebuild my home here than I thought."

Night had fallen, slithering from the starlit sky past the twisted treetops to gradually saturate the misty swamp below. Off to one side of the path was a small clearing in which the fae had made camp for the night. There was no need to set watch, the only concession to precaution being a faintly glowing red line that encircled the encampment. Dran had heard about spells the elves could use that would act like watchers and announce intruders. This was something along those lines, but a trifle more direct.

As he paced the circumference of the circle, Dran took care to keep all parts of his body a safe distance away from the innocuously glowing line. He was restless. Part of this was no doubt due to the aches all through his back and shoulders from the fight earlier that day, but part seemed internal as well. It had been nearly fifty years since he'd been 'temporarily' assigned to border duty. During that time he'd seen nothing but an endless assortment of more or less easily dispatched monsters, and thousands of miles of border. There was no particular stretch of border assigned, so the border patrol detachments usually traveled the full circuit, around and around.

I almost wish I hadn't given that fool what he deserved, Dran thought. Although fifty years of drudgery is a small price to pay for the expression on his face.

Dran frowned, eyeing the ground as he dug his toe into the marshy ground. Fifty years is one thing, but I could be out here for the rest of my life. One week of civilization every year is not enough. How long will it take before I end up like Merd, half asleep all the time?

I can't challenge him, he'd incinerate me with a glance before I got anywhere near him. With an expression of distaste, Dran pried a loose rock from the ground with his toe and flipped it vertically into the air, catching it with his hand. Dropping it towards the ground, he amused himself briefly by bouncing the rock off of his feet, knees, and head. Losing count around sixty, he snatched it from the air with his left hand and slammed his right fist into it. The rock glowed briefly and then shattered into powder. Dusting his hands off, he continued pacing, thoughts busy with fantastic dreams of doing something similar to his tormentor. It was quite some time before he fell asleep.

He was soaring high above the ground, wind rushing past his ears. So fast! He remembered flying, but nothing like this. Far below him stretched the misty expanse of the fae swamp, grey and indistinct. Looking up slightly he saw the moon in all its silver splendor. Yes! Drunk with exhiliration he laughed aloud, the sound torn from his lips by the passing wind and scattered far behind him. Silence surrounded him as he flew, racing faster and faster, heart pounding within his chest from the sheer joy of the movement. Slowly, as the first moment's excitement passed, he became aware of a sound. He was not sure when it had first started, or if it had simply been present from the beginning. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Although the sound did not grow louder, Dran felt its harmonics resonating deep within him. An ache began to grow within his chest, both premonition and promise. Thrummmm... Gradually he became unaware of the sound itself, so intensely was he aware of the vibrating response within himself. The swamp stretched endlessly beneath him, and as he looked onward, he realized for the first time that the misty swamp directly below him was dark. What...? Then Dran realized that it wasn't dark, it was in shadow, shadowed by something enormous, something right above him. For the first time during his flight Dran felt the first faint tendrils of fear nudge the edge of his consciousness. Nothing can be that big and still fly, not even the fabled monsters of the silver sea are that large. Without warning he was falling, a strangled scream caught in his throat as he fell. As he plummeted towards the ground the shadow deepened, and he was falling endlessly. No ground, no mist, nothing but shadow, and the deep rhythmic Thrummm within his chest in tune with his own heart.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" Jumping to his feet, Dran looked around wildly, heart racing. Cold sweat drenched him from head to toe. For a moment he fancied that he could still feel an echo of that Thrummm deep within his chest. Across the camp fire from him Gyrd looked at him with an expression mixing annoyance and concern. "Dran, are you ok? There's nothing out here worth that kind of scream." "It's nothing, just a nightmare..." said Dran. Gyrd eyed him skeptically. "A nightmare, huh? Well I hope I never have a nightmare like that one, I thought you were about to go crazy." Merd snorted from his half upright position nearest the fire and laid back down, muttering under his breath. Smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion, Dran said, "I'm sorry about that, but it's nothing really, I didn't mean to wake you." Shaking his head, Gyrd settled back down. "If you say so..." Dran sat down and stared into the swamp. Somehow, he doubted that he'd get any more sleep tonight.

Artes rises as the sun peaks over the horizon with a soft sigh. As he turns around he almost bumps into Kreen and gives a small cry of surprise. "Oh! Sir Kreen, I did not know you had awakened. Um, good morning. I suppose that you would like some breakfast? One moment, if you will."

Artes stepped quickly into the guest room and completed his food spell, bearing fourth simple fruits this time. He smiles and takes a cluster of grapes and begins to eat them slowly, a smile on his face.

Artes swallowed the last grape on his cluster and smiled up at Rath. "Good morning, Rath, I hope you are hungry. There is pleanty of food to eat so that we may have strength for the day ahead."

He took an apple and sat back down on his bed, munching it happily.

Kreen enters the dormatory just after Artes, lifting a few fruits and eating them.
Oh, GOD, I know that look! the Dying Breath thinks as he looks at the newcomer. It's that...that...bonding thing! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! comes the anguished mental cry. Being stuck ALL DAY with an enthusiastic fellow he doesn't even know if he can trust will be the most torturous thin the assassin has ever experienced.
"Why must you taunt me so?" he asks nothing, quietly enough that no one can hear him, rolling his golden red eyes toward the heavens.

"W-well... I don't know about th-that last part." Artes giggled uneasily. He wanted just to make a joke, but if he insulted Rath than he would feel really bad and his attempt to become closer to his new friends would be lost.