Of Mortal Dreams: Chapter VII

Vara

Vara awoke to an empty, treacherously angry stomach. She grimaced.

Eggs. She wanted eggs. And fresh milk.

Soon enough. It was still too early to venture into the mess hall—she could tell by the light behind her eyelids. If she didn’t think too hard or for too long, she could get a bit more sleep. Hands, but her legs were cold. She shifted, searching for a softer bit of bed, and reached for the blanket. Instead, her arm brushed something hard on her hip.

Her knife. Why would she be—

Her eyes flew open. They found not the stone ceiling of her bedroom at Torfell, but a leafy green canopy backed by sapphire sky. Her heart stuttered as the last two days—three days?—surged to the front of her mind. Half stunned, she blinked away the beautiful lie and recounted what had actually led up to this moment. Umber, wolves, river, Laregan. And now they were on their way home.

To Tor. To tell Osper and Yorian about Umber. Today.

The truth was so jarring that it took her a moment to notice the Stranger.

A la…