Interlude – Insomnium
Susan woke with a start, sweat coating her brow, her mouth dry, nameless terror fluttering away into the shadows of her chamber. She lay for a moment staring up at the canopy of her soft bed, gasping in short, shallow jerks. "Peter," she breathed, a sobbing little cry, and then, composing herself, she swung her legs out from under the sheets and planted her feet firmly against the woven rug that covered the parquet floor. Her handmaiden, Willow-Wand, usually left a small pitcher of water on her bedside table, and Susan shakily poured herself a glass, gulping it down and then pouring another. This one she nursed, by now calm enough to turn the nightmare over in her mind. What she saw made her stand, throwing off the covers with a convulsive movement, and she went quickly to the window. She remained there for a very long time, staring out over the dim, star-lit expanse of the Great Eastern Ocean, her eyes unfocused and her thoughts far away.
