Will/Alyss

The bandit's knife glinted in the moonlight, as he twisted it against the child's throat. He was short, stout, a patchy stubble crusted with food, his mouth twisted in a snarl. His beefy arm was wrapped around the boy's neck, with the child's small hands gripping his forearm tightly, trying to raise himself enough to keep the knife from biting into his skin.

Will warily stepped forward again, keeping his drawn bow aimed at the bandit's face. He couldn't risk a chest shot, nor a throat shot. The end result would be ugly, but it'd get the job done. "Let him go," Will murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the pair. He couldn't be distracted, not at this point.

Sneering, the bandit took a step back, dragging the young boy with him. His face was already tear stained, and the boy let out a whimper, and began to kick his feet, helpless to the bandits actions. Will's eyes narrowed.

Taking another step forward, the Ranger prepared to loose the shot.

Something flicked in the corner of his eye.

Something orangish.

He ignored it, keeping his focus on the bandit. Now he couldn't be distracted by the boy. Will tuned out the whimpers, felt the taunt string on his fingers. And released.

At that last second, he realized his mistake.

Instead of the arrow flashing towards the bandits face, it had been aimed at the child's chest.

Will jerked his arm, hoping to be able to intercept the arrow before it hit, maybe knock it to the side, get the child out of the way - the boy staggered, shock transforming his face into one Will would never be able to forget. The horror. Terror. Pain.

He stood there for a moment, his bow arm twisted a bit, his bow titled and held out. His opposite arm dropped slowly, limp. His mouth open in disbelief. He had just shot a helpless child.

Orange flickered all around his vision. His eyes were wide as he watched the bandit drop the boy's body, confusion on his face. More flickering orange practically covering everything. The man laughed. He held his gut, and threw back his head, laughing at the boy's dead body. Laughed. At the child's corpse.

Will stood there, helpless. Stunned.

The fire raged up, all around him.

Now, instead of the forest they were originally standing on, they stood on a bridge. It was wide, held up by thick cables. And the cables were snapping, throwing the platform from side to side. Jerking everything around. Through the roaring of the fire, the bandit's laughs were getting louder, and louder. Warping in sound, they went from man to practical snarling.

His nose and mouth elongated, giving him a muzzle, and his back arched. At first, Will thought he was watching a werewolf transformation, seeing the dogish traits appear but . . . when the fur started to grow, and his arms hunched forward, he knew it was no "werewolf". The wargal snarled at him, swiping out its clawed fist. Will held his bow up in a desperate attempt to block it, but the bow shattered, and he stumbled back on the impact. He stumbled towards the edge, towards the abyss.

The wargal marched towards him as he teetered on the edge, and in the distance he heard a familiar shriek that made his blood run cold.

A kalkara stood in front of him, unaffected by the fire. It shrieked again, snapped out at him.

And he felt his feet slip from the edge of the burning bridge.

And he fell.


And he fell, straight back into the world of the conscious.

He jerked up, kicking back to suffocating covers, and stumbling up off the bed. He gasped for breath, and stood there for a moment, doubled over, clutching at his throat. He could feel the sweat drip down his spine, his forehead. He couldn't breathe. Will stood up straight, took a long deep breath, and exhaled silently. He dropped his hands from his neck, and instead wrapped them around his damp torso. He was shaking. He took more breaths, measuring them, and letting them out slowly, all the while staring at the blank wall.

I need to breathe.

Taking a brief glance to the sleeping form of his wife, Will crept out of the room, intending to go sit on the porch. His hand slipped on the door handle, making a loud twanging sound. He winced, and glanced back towards Alyss. She hadn't moved. Taking the door handle again, making sure he had a firm grip on it, he opened the door and slipped out into the main room.

It was dark. The fireplace was cold, the curtains closed. Moonlight streamed through a crack in the curtains, and through it, he could see rain pouring down. Knowing that the roof of the porch had a few leaks, which he had been procrastinating fixing, he decided to stay inside. Taking another deep breath, he moved towards the couch in front of the dead fireplace. He practically fell into it. Hands on his knees, bare chest still heaving with the need for air, he stared at the bricks.

And continued to stare at them.

And continued to stare at them as his breath evened, as the nightmare slowly faded from his memory. He was still shaken up by it - what if he'd actually shot a child? What if the kalkara weren't dead?

As he took in another shaky breath, a hand gently touched his shoulder.

Will flinched away from the contact, it sending a shock down his body.

"Will?" Alyss murmured. Her hair was disheveled, a tired look in her eyes. She had their comforter wrapped around her shoulders, and the sleeve of her nightdress had slipped down her arm. "Are you okay, babe?" She moved around the back of the couch, and sat down next to him on his other side. She swept the covers off her shoulders, and moved them so they covered both of their laps. She sat silently next to him, studying the side of his face. He didn't know if he should turn to face her, or if he would start crying.

The boy's shocked face still hadn't faded.

His head dropped, and he rested it in his hands. He bent over his knees, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to cry. Not now. Instead of letting the tears spill, he let out a long groan, shutting his eyes tight. No matter what, the kid's face wasn't going away. He could only see the flames, the child's shocked and confused and pained face, and then the wargal, the kalkara.

He couldn't breathe.

"Nightmare?" A soft voice beside him asked. Without ever acknowledging he knew who it was, he nodded. Now he bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Will, hun," there was concern in the voice.

Will felt gentle, familiar arms go around his waist, a body pressed against him. A head tucked in by his neck. It took him a moment to realize that they - no, his wife, Alyss, was hugging him. For a moment he tensed up, but she resituated herself, bringing an arm around his shoulders, and pulling him closer.

He practically melted into her arms.


Will woke to sunlight streaming through the window. He looked about himself, taking in the fact that he lay on the couch in the main room, instead of in his own bed. He also took in that Alyss lay curled up with him, and that their comforter lay atop them. Through the cracked curtains, he could see water dripping from the porch roof.

He looked down to Alyss, studying her sleeping figure. Her head had been on his chest, but had slipped to his shoulder when he had sat up. What kept her from completely falling off him was that his arm was around her. Her hair, recently trimmed to just below her chin, lay fanned around her head. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth bent into a content smile. The Ranger smiled, studying her. After a few minutes, he laid back down, and closed his eyes. He could sleep for a little longer.