Thanks for checking out Hunter's Mark! I hope you enjoy the story. A quick foreword: As with my other stories, this one follows Red XIII of Final Fantasy VII fame many years after the events of the game. Having learned that a famous big game hunter is en route to Cosmo Canyon to begin a new hunt, Red decides to take a break from his travels to head home and meet this hunter face to face.

I don't own Red XIII, so all credit goes to Tetsuya Nomura and Square Enix where that is concerned. This story has minor tie-ins to the On the Way to a Smile novella, specifically to the Case of Nanaki section (surprising, I know). However, while Case of Nanaki is a good read (and while it may be somewhat beneficial to give it a read before digging too deep into this), it's by no means required to understand the plot of Hunter's Mark.

With all that said, let's get this show on the road. Hunter's Mark is split up into five sections of three to four chapters each. The first section is called Return. A PDF of the entire first section (three chapters) and a link to the uncropped cover image by artist KrayTSAO are available upon request. Just send me a message. Thanks, and enjoy!

Return

1. Arrival

There was a period of time during which I made it my duty to travel the planet and learn as much about it as possible. It was a promise I made to my grandfather, and it was one which took me many years to honor. This world is a big place, after all, and I have more time than most to work with. Whereas the average human might see the turn of one century to the next if they are lucky, I have seen many centuries come and go. It was for nearly 200 years that I travelled, only occasionally returning home to Cosmo Canyon to rest, and over the course of that time, I learned much more than I thought I ever could about the planet. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I learned more than I thought I would about myself as well. You see, the truth of things is that I have the dubious distinction of being a beast of human intelligence.

I don't particularly like describing myself in those crude terms – taken individually, identifying myself as either 'beast' or 'human' is inadequate at best and insulting at worst – but put together they are decidedly apt, and so they are the words I choose. Being such a creature, I am aware enough to know that I owe allegiance both to the denizens of the natural world and to the humans of the civilized world. And yet I am also aware enough to realize that I do not quite belong to either group. I have built my life around classifications and giving names to the thoughts and events I experience, so it troubles me that despite all the connections I have to these two groups of life, I am unable to put myself cleanly away into one or the other. I cannot be a human because I understand the folly of man's brazenness and maliciousness, and yet I cannot be a beast because I understand that morality and free thought are matters that are purely human. And so I am somewhere in between. I am myself.

That is not to say I wish to change. Despite the difficulties that arise from my inability to classify myself, I fear for the loss either half of my being. This duality of man and beast has defined me for so long, manifested as a kind of continuous struggle to change and adapt to my circumstances, that it has become synonymous with who I am. And though it has always been problematic trying to function in a world where I do not quite belong, for some time when I was younger I feared the solution to the problem as much as I feared the problem itself. The only solution I could see was to assimilate fully into either my beast or human half. The two sides were contradictory and couldn't continue to coexist, my young mind thought, and I feared that that solution meant that I would lose hold of my identity. After all, removed from society, or from the wilds of the world, how would I change? Robbed of my animal instincts, or of my higher order thought, who would I become? Those questions frightened me, and for years and years I tried my hardest to push them away out of sight.

But alone on the road as I travelled, I had only my thoughts to keep me company, and gradually that fear edged its way into the front of my mind, changing my outlook on the world as it set in. The awe I had once felt about the size and beauty of the planet gave way to a sense of isolation and disaffection as I found myself not quite fitting in no matter where I visited. My determination not to think about it held, and as time passed, the feeling evolved into a sense of powerlessness and insignificance, eventually becoming a general inability to cope with my own existence. I realized that all the years of avoiding the issue of who I was had not only been counterproductive to my own personal development, but had also resulted in my neglecting those about whom I cared the most. The friends and family with whom I'd shared most of my early years had grown apart from me across a massive, ever-widening abyss, and I did not know how to begin to reconnect with them. I wondered if they would even notice if I were to leave and never return, or if they would shed a tear if I were to meet my end over the course of my travels, and I found I couldn't make myself answer. Moreover, I knew deep down that neither they nor I were getting any younger, and that any chances I might have to reconnect dwindled with each breath I took.

The months passed, and I continued to travel, unable to act on my fears. The sense of powerlessness grew, and questions on the subject of mortality arose from everything I experienced. I worried what these experiences might portend in my own future. It seemed at every turn I saw animals killed in the hunt, humans dying of terminal sicknesses, families torn apart by conflict… and no matter how I may have wanted to help, the doubts I had so deeply embedded in my mind left me paralyzed and made me shake uncontrollably. Gilligan, I called it – the suite of thoughts that made me shake so mercilessly – if for no other reason than for it to have a name, as though that would somehow make it more bearable. But I had lost my bearings, and no simple name would change that. The unfortunate reality that I had to face was that things would not fix themselves, and my inability to act condemned me to myself even as the deadline I knew would come approached. As time wound down and expired, my mind would be consumed by my failings.

In the end, I was saved by happenstance rather than any action of my own. In the midst of all my grief and rage, an old acquaintance found me and pulled me from the edge of my self-dug abyss even as I nearly tumbled into it. We spoke, and he helped me understand my fear, to see something I'd refused to acknowledge over the years, perhaps in the vain hopes that if I didn't admit it to myself, it could not be true: Death is everywhere and is ultimately unavoidable. That was at the heart of my fears, what drove Gilligan and spurred my inaction. Everyone, be they complete stranger, acquaintance, loved one… Even myself… Everyone dies eventually. And the cruelty of it was that because I was gifted with so much time, I would bear witness to the end of all of my loved ones as they faded away and were gone.

My acquaintance viewed death as a kind of reprieve…peaceful rest after the nightmare of life, but I viewed it differently. It felt almost like a punishment to me. I often wondered what would remain after my friends and loved ones died, and no matter how long I thought, I could see nothing. There would be myself and there would be nothing else. What my acquaintance showed me was that regardless of any insignificance or powerlessness I felt, it was the idea of being alone that I truly feared, and my actions alone could correct the path I was on.

That was a part of the reason for the travels thereafter, and it is why I have such a fondness for naming and cataloguing what I see. My travels kept those thoughts at bay, and by making new acquaintances and staying in touch with old friends, by making a place in my mind and my heart for my new experiences, I was able to keep going. Death is inevitable, but as long as there is something ahead of me, I've found I can keep moving forward. As long as I can build and maintain my place in the greater picture of life, I can be happy.

…..

It was during this period of travel that I first heard the name Nelson Ruger. They dubbed him "Onuris" after an ancient hunter who struck down all his enemies and himself was an aspect of the gods. From New Mideel in the south to Wutai in the far west, his name kept popping up around me, tied to stories variably heroic and horrendous that were told with such conviction that it was difficult to discern the truth about the man. He was a hunter extraordinaire – that much I could gather – and he was quite obviously world-famous and well-traveled. Surprisingly though, no matter my location throughout the years, Ruger happened to be somewhere else. I would have expected, as much ground as I had covered, that I would have crossed paths with him at least once, but evidently it was not meant to be.

I was lucky enough, however, to stumble across a fairly objective account of his life while passing through Costa del Sol one year. A news crew had set up near the beachfront, and a reporter was hurriedly reciting the man's biography to a large, expensive-looking camera. He was born into a rural family on the plains east of Kalm, and lived most of his earliest years working with his father to maintain their farm. He got his first taste of the hunt at the age of seven after a rash of deaths among the farm's stock animals led to him being told by his father to stay up overnight with a rifle to protect the herd. He ended up shooting the culprit, a Midgar wolf – one of the largest ever recorded – square between the eyes. There was a sudden influx of media coverage to the farm along with some very generous monetary donations from neighboring farms, and Ruger was heralded far and wide as a prodigy with the gun.

He spent the rest of his adolescent years doing odd jobs as a "pest control" agent of sorts, travelling all across the eastern continent in the process. His free time went almost exclusively into hunting, and in this way, he amassed a sizeable collection of trophy mounts. A job one year killing a zemzelett outside of Junon ended up being his big break. Zemzelett were notorious problem monsters in that time, and this breed was particularly dangerous, so Ruger's reputation as a monster hunter was solidified. In the years following, he added "rare" to his monster hunter title, killing a King Behemoth, a Grand Malboro, and a Blue Dragon (not all at once as far as I could tell). There even were rumors that he single-handedly managed to pry loose a scale from the head of a living Midgar Zolom in the years before the species went extinct, but the reports, according to the reporter to whom I must confer authority on the matter, were unconfirmed.

Toward the end of the broadcast, the reporter mentioned Ruger had passed through town a few days prior to my arrival on his way to Cosmo Canyon to begin a new hunt. Traveling on foot, evidently. My interest in him had been piqued, and his visit to the canyon gave me a good reason to return home for the first time in the past few years. Finally, I could meet and ascertain for myself the truth about Nelson Ruger.

I was able to hire a cab to get me to the Gongaga area in short order. That way I would have time to settle back in at the village before Ruger's arrival. I would have liked to return on foot, but given the time frame, I supposed that driving most of the way and then at least entering the canyon on foot would be a suitable alternative.

The cabby, who referred to himself as Minus, was an interesting fellow. He originally hailed from Junon – specifically from the village below the airfield. He had come to Costa del Sol with his family as a teenager on a vacation many years back. His parents had spent their entire savings procuring the tickets for the voyage and had nothing left once they actually docked at the port, so he felt the vacation was less than satisfactory. I found it odd that a vacation to one of the finest beaches on the planet could be "less than satisfactory." Given that beaches were free, it seemed to me that the lack of money couldn't really be a problem, but nonetheless, that's what the man said. The end of the vacation ended up disastrous, with his parents boarding the cruiser back to Junon without him. I gathered they were separated somehow while boarding, but he wasn't too clear on this point. The end result, however, was that his parents ended up back in Junon without him and without any money to get him home.

Minus picked up odd jobs around Costa del Sol in return for lodging over the next few years with the idea that he would save up what gil he could until he had enough to buy a ticket back home. In the meantime, he and his parents corresponded through the mail, trying their best to remain together as a family, even if the sea separated them. As the years passed, Minus grew to like his life in Costa del Sol, enough so that when the time actually came for him to buy his cruiser ticket home, he was hesitant. He wrote his parents for their advice, but he received no response from them. Several more letters went unanswered, and the longer and longer he waited, the more worried he became. At long last, he received a letter, but it was not from his parents. Instead it was a message from one of his old neighbors that he recounted to me verbatim:

Minus,

I received your letters to your parents, and I'm sorry to inform you they are gone. You should not come back here. People are disappearing.

-Ernest

Part of him still wanted to return to Junon after reading the letter, but without any family to return to and with the warning given to him in the letter, he ultimately decided to remain in Costa del Sol. He put the money he had saved toward renting an apartment, and after a bit of searching, he landed a job as a cab driver. That was what he'd been doing ever since. I didn't know what I'd said to cause him to give me his life's story, but he certainly had done it. It was interesting in any case, and whether it was true or not – several elements of his story seem a bit unbelievable in retrospect – it made the time pass, so I didn't complain.

Upon arrival to the Gongaga area neighboring the canyon, I told Minus about my travels and offered to visit Junon to see if I could uncover any other information about his parents. He thanked me and refused, saying that it had happened so long ago that there was nothing to be done about it anymore. I still planned to visit out of kindness, or at least I did until he gave me my bill for the cab ride. Could have afforded at least two trips to Junon with what I paid him.

The walk over the remaining plains to Cosmo Canyon was uneventful. It was the same every time I returned. Smells of the sea, of salt water and green grass, rolled in from the coast on a light but persistent cool wind, and the sun shone brilliantly in the blue sky above. Quite idyllic. I always wondered why, aside from what remained of the Gongaga village, there were no human settlements in the area. Humans have a knack for inhabiting any area it is possible to inhabit, so it seemed strange to me that a habitat with nigh on perfect conditions for them would be left unsettled.

After around an hour of walking, I spotted the first major landmark that let me know I was getting close. Standing oddly out from the rising plateaus ahead of me was a single tall, thin spire of red rock. The tip of the spire was different than I remembered – different enough to make me second-guess that it actually was the one I remembered. The last I'd seen of it, it was cut almost flat on top, as though some great swordsman had sliced it down in a fit of rage. What I saw now was a sharply tipped peak. Perhaps it had fractured under some environmental stress or other, and the suddenly loosed chunk of rock had slid off and shattered on the ground. Or perhaps the swordsman had chosen to remodel his work. I mused on these two possibilities for a moment before continuing on my way, finding that I couldn't decide which was more likely. On cue after passing the spire, the scents in the air shifted from sea salt and grass to something much more earthy. The grass fell away and was replaced by red dirt and rock, and before I knew it, the familiar high plateaus of the canyon surrounded me on every side.

There really is nothing quite like the smell of the canyon, I thought to myself.

As much as I had travelled, seen, and smelled, the canyon truly was unique. It epitomized the world to me – deep, rich, and natural, changing throughout the year, and yet always remaining the same. Its scent filled my nostrils and invigorated me, eliciting a spontaneous smile. I couldn't hold myself back. Anticipation of home grew inside like a great inflating balloon and lifted me off my feet. I broke out into a loping gallop across the rocky terrain, and the wind in my face and its howl in my ears spurred me on. The gallop evolved swiftly into a sprint, and the canyon became a blur around me, shades of ochre and umber and red and orange flying by faster than I could process them. I don't know how long I ran – only that I was utterly out of breath by the time the village came into view.

…..

"Hey, Nanaki's back!"

I hadn't even made it halfway up the stairs to the village before being spotted. Word spread quickly, and by the time I'd reached the top of the stairs, passed under the familiar arch bearing the words "COSMO CANYON" in big block letters, and greeted Eian, the village's gate attendant, a group of villagers had gathered in front of the Cosmo Candle to see me. Farther off, several people I did not recognize milled around, peering around the crowd with an odd look of uncertainty.

The moment I noticed them, I became aware of a sensation inside me that something was somehow different about the village, but I couldn't pin it down. A quick glance around the landing showed me that everything was mostly as I remembered it. As always, the Cosmo Candle burned brightly at the center or the landing, its eternal flame unfazed by my return. The same huts still stood, scattered around – the pub, the inn, and a few residences – and the high-rise butte that my grandfather's observatory sat upon was as monolithic as ever. The same ladders leading up the side of the butte ended at the shop hut and more residences, and the same stairway carved into the rock meandered its way upward to a point where it disappeared into the interior of the high-rise. But there was something… off about it all… What was it?

"Welcome back, Nanaki!" called an elderly woman named Marin as she led the group of villagers over to me. Leaning down, she wrapped her arms around my neck and embraced me. "You're looking well. I trust your travels have been rewarding?"

Marin had lived most of her life in Cosmo Canyon, having originally come, as most do, to get involved in the study of Planet Life. She had been a burgeoning scientist, and although her aspirations of making a career of it faded when she realized the Study was as much spiritual as it was scientific, her love of the village did not. As a result, she ended up staying in the village well past the end of her work.

"I would not have it any other way," I responded, embracing her gently with one forepaw in return.

Standing back up, she responded, "You'll have to share some of your experiences with us tonight around the Candle."

As best I could, I smiled without baring any teeth. "Absolutely." I wasn't sure how well I succeeded, but I certainly made a calculated effort. Humans like to see teeth in a smile when it comes from another human, but for someone like me, I've always worried a toothy grin might be taken the wrong way.

I received a chorus of "welcomes" and "happy to see yous" over the next short while and was happy, if not a bit surprised, to be greeted so warmly. The strangers I'd noticed before stood their ground on the far side of the Candle but were no longer directing their attention toward me, barring the occasional sideways glance. What did they expect me to do? Burst into flames? Explode like fireworks? I couldn't understand their wariness.

"Pleasure to have you back, sir." An open hand was suddenly thrust in my face, stopping just short of hitting me square on the nose. I jerked my attention away from the strangers and stared at the hand for a moment, bewildered, before tracing it back to its source. A young man, possibly in his early twenties, had stepped out from the crowd and had his hand outstretched, apparently awaiting a handshake.

"Erm… Pleasure to be back." I raised a paw to him, and he took it into his hand and gave it a good sturdy shake. I can still recall the question going through my head: Do I know who this is?

Evidently I did not, as he introduced himself shortly thereafter. "I'm Marcus. I'm a new student here in the canyon. Haven't been here long, so in case you're wondering, this is the first time we've met."

"Ah, I see. Well it is good to meet you, Marcus. How'd you end up here in the canyon?"

"Yes sir, it's good to meet you too. My story's a bit unremarkable. Was born in the Kalm lands –err, the plains outside of Kalm I mean. Bit of a local name, Kalm lands. Grew up in the shadow of Midgar wondering how a big, mechanical city like that ever came to be. Learned about Mako energy when I was a kid, and that led to the Lifestream, and so on and so forth, and here I am."

"As good a story as any, I think."

"Well I appreciate it, sir. I'll be honest. I've been told a lot about you since I got here, and I was nervous to meet you, so I hope I didn't overstep my bounds at all."

"Hmm… No, you're perfectly fine. A minor suggestion though: there's no need to call me sir unless you're out to make me uncomfortable while I'm here. Simply Nanaki is fine."

A male voice from somewhere in the crowd followed up quickly, saying, "You also might try introducing yourself first before shoving your hand in his face, eh Marcus? Might not come back with all your fingers next time."

The statement drew laughter from the crowd and embarrassment from Marcus, as evidenced by the instantly flushed tones on his face. I had meant only the best with my words about not calling me "sir," but in retrospect, they seemed a poor decision.

"Well Marcus, I'll be here for a week or so. What do you say we get together sometime and you share with me what you've learned so far, okay?"

He grinned and responded, "Definitely! Sounds great!" His face only became more flushed as he said it, making me unsure if I'd helped or hurt his situation. He backed up and disappeared into the crowd, and that was the last I saw of him for the time being.

The crowd thinned out after another 15 minutes or so, each person withdrawing with a final "welcome home" or "glad to see you're doing well" before leaving, and eventually all that remained were myself and Eian.

"Who are those people across the way?" I asked him.

"Them? They've been here a few days now. I presume you know that Nelson 'Onuris' Ruger is on his way here?" He accentuated each word in Ruger's name in a semi-sarcastic manner.

"I had heard. So they're here for him?"

"Yup. First one got here about five days ago, right about the time that Onuris first announced he was coming. Corinn over at the inn says that the moment the announcement hit the airwaves, she started getting requests for reservations. Place is booked solid over the next month."

"No kidding. This 'Onuris' carries quite a bit of celebrity with him then, does he? Any word on what he's coming to hunt?"

"Nope, that's still a mystery. Most of the folks that got here ahead of him seem to think that he's after a big hippogriff, white as snow with bluer eyes than you've ever seen, but a few of them say that's just a cover."

Why would he need a cover? "I suppose it will be good sales for the shops and the pub while he's here then. Lots of fans means lots of customers."

"Aye, that it does…" Eian paused. "…How do you feel about it? About him?"

"Hmm… That's a question easier asked than answered."

"I don't care for him, personally. He makes a living off killing, and whether it's monsters or not, that just doesn't sit right with me. There's no place for that in Cosmo Canyon."

I laughed lightly and responded. "I can understand that. Hunting does seem to be somewhat at odds with the philosophy of Planet Life… But perhaps it isn't all for sport, in which case death is merely another part of living. Another step in the flow of Planet Life. …I don't know… I am certainly interested to meet him, but as of yet, I find it difficult to form any opinions about him."

An indignant "hmph" was all I got in response, and for a moment we were silent, watching Ruger's fans building a makeshift camp of tents and sleeping bags behind the Cosmo Candle. "Well then, will you be staying in the research center while you're here?" Eian finally asked, breaking the silence.

"The observatory? I would love to if it isn't a problem."

He laughed, not quite as lightly as I had before. "Nanaki, you seem to have forgotten over the past few years what it means to be home. Elder Aren's been taking care of the place for you in your absence. I'm sure he'll have no problem turning the reins over to you. Would you like to head up there now?"

"Sure. I'm a bit worn out from the trip here. I could use a familiar place to sleep."

"Let's head up then."

…..

A few minutes later, we found ourselves at the top of the high-rise knocking on the door to the observatory. Sure enough, Elder Aren had no qualms about leaving it in my care for the duration of my stay. We spoke for a few minutes about my travels before he and Eian turned to head back down to the village proper. As they left, Eian told me that Ruger was expected to reach the village shortly before nightfall and that he would come back up to get me once he arrived. I thanked him, and they disappeared down the ladder to the lower levels of the village, leaving me to my own devices.

I stood in the front doorway of the observatory for a few moments afterwards, listening to the sounds of the canyon. The wind from the plains was still present here in the village, albeit in a warmer, drier form, and it carried on its back the chatter of a few species of bird that I could not identify. A weather vane on the roof squeaked quietly in the wind every now and again, silhouetted against a wall of yellow-white cumulus clouds in the sky. Down below, someone bellowed a hearty laugh. And beyond that there was nothing. Everything was still, almost stagnant in the afternoon light. I stood silently in the doorway and felt as though I were waiting for something to happen.

Is this it? The phrase repeated over and over in my mind until the words lost their meaning. Is this what? Is what it? I could not make sense of what I was asking myself, and so the answer was out of reach. I was happy to be back in the place I'd grown up, no doubt, but somewhere deep down, I felt a pang of…not disappointment, but… of longing maybe, or perhaps even sadness. Why? After a few more moments of silence, I turned and walked inside, closing the door behind me.

I could still make out the birds' voices through the metal walls of the observatory, though just barely – overwhelmingly, it was quiet, enough so that I became aware of a faint but persistent ringing in my ears. What's the word for that? …Tin… Tinnitus? …No, That can't be right.

A musty, aged scent pervaded the area, a rather clear sign that the observatory had not seen much use in my absence. Elder Aren may have kept the place in shape, but he certainly hadn't lived here. Which made sense, ultimately. The "research center" hardly qualified as such anymore. In the years since the Meteor Crisis and the subsidence of the Geostigma epidemic, the cries of the planet, which had once been a subject of much scrutiny and debate due to their anomalous behavior, had settled into a rhythmic sort of slumber. Nothing worth recording, so that particular function of the center fell into disuse. And because Grandfather and I were essentially the only two in the village with any interest in stargazing, the telescope for which the center's observatory was originally built was rarely used either. I could practically smell the dust gathering on it even though it was two floors above me. For the most part, this was a residence now, and even that might have been an exaggeration.

I took a few minutes and walked all through the first floor of the house, checking to see that everything was where I remembered it being. The dining table had gathered dust, as had the few chairs scattered about. The refrigerator against the back wall looked to be non-operational, as did the stove next to it. Water still ran in the sink at least. I took the opportunity to slake the thirst I'd built while running to the village. Nothing quite like the water in the canyon either. Something about the minerals in the rocks… a delight to the taste buds.

Other than that, I had a strange sense of being afraid of touching anything for fear, I guess, of breaking it. Something my Grandfather had told me when I was younger, that "you don't have eyes on the ends of your paws," popped into my head and drew a smile onto my face. An elaborate way of saying, "don't touch what isn't yours." This in mind, I stuck my head into his planetarium briefly. The planets still hung in the night sky, captured motionless in the midst of their orbits. It would have been nice to run the Planet Life demonstration, but…maybe some other time.

The ladder to the second floor of the observatory was surprisingly sturdy under my weight given its appearance – I had made sure to test it first before committing to the climb but was still slightly worried. Conversely, the bed upstairs, which looked like it hadn't aged a day since I'd first left the canyon as a cub, sagged in the middle when I laid on it.

"Buah," I said to myself upon lying down, the bedsprings creaking under my weight. "That was unexpected." Rolling onto my back proved much more comfortable, much akin to lying in a hammock, so I assumed the position and relaxed with my front legs crossed over my chest.

A deafening quiet settled over the room once more, and as I listened to myself breathing, I noted that it again it felt as if I were waiting for something to happen. Was it like this when Grandpa was doing his research? I wondered. "Hmm…"

In my mind's eye, I could see him floating about the observatory busying himself with various tasks, writing research notes in a book, cooking himself a meal, sitting at the telescope watching the stars while listening to the planet. I saw him in the planetarium with me, showing me how the demonstration worked for the first time. The planets, turning on their axes, running merrily along on their orbits… The meteors flying through the sky, the green and red and blue streams of spirit energy all weaving together into a single grand thread. The planet, crumbling to pieces as the spirit energy was removed for Mako production… Somewhere in the midst of these thoughts, sleep took me by surprise.

It was an uneasy sleep, one from which I gladly would have awoken if I could have. I dreamed of the color black. Black, without form or substance, with no weight or scale. I thought it to be the night sky at first, but the complete lack of stars or light of any kind made it clear in short order that this was something else entirely. It seemed to ripple, even despite the lack of form, and it struck a profound chord of dread in me that made me feel as though I were stuck on my back, sinking into an invisible bog. And it was everywhere. I could not shield myself from it, this impenetrable blackness, no matter how I tried. It was there, unapologetic, writhing just out of sight, watching from the abyss. I had one thought in the dream, a desperate plea, which was on my lips as I awoke: "Please, please just go away. Just leave me alone."

…..

I awoke speaking the words to the ceiling of the bedroom on the second floor of the observatory. The words were calm, but my heart rate belied their demeanor.

"Pardon me?" I heard from below.

The voice gave me a start; it took a few seconds for me to recognize it as belonging to Eian. "Oh…" I called out to him, taking a few deep breaths. "It's nothing, Eian… I –" I tried once and then twice with a quick grunt to turn toward the ladder. No luck. I had sunk even farther into the bed since I'd fallen asleep – the mattress had collapsed in on itself to form a pit around me that deepened and tightened its grip with every movement I made. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get myself up out of the bed. I was effectively pinned in place.

"Oh, okay then," he responded a bit uncertainly. "Well I just wanted to let you know that we're expecting Onuris to arrive in the next five or ten minutes. Thought you might want to come down to… uh…" He paused for a moment while I struggled (and failed) to pull myself out of the hole and get to my feet. "Are you… Are you all right up there, Nanaki?"

I made a few more strained attempts to escape before giving up with a frustrated sigh and sinking limply back down into the hole in the bed. My tail flopped over and its fire flickered mockingly in my face. "I'll be honest. I could use some help here."