Off-shore, Ireland
One day later, 1495
Warren sat up, jerking awake and gasping for breath. He yanked the sheet covering him down, looked around in confusion. "B-but… the farm, that man,…" he sputtered.
He stood, walked to the doorway of the room. It was unfamiliar. The wooden doorway was of a different, far better craftsmanship than the one that had been the door to his home.
The he remembered. His home had been destroyed. Shapes in his memory stirred, the dark figure killing Mary, the Englishman pulling him away from the cliff, a bolt of lightning striking the house as he was carried away, setting what was left of it ablaze.
His father. His lover. Everything. Gone.
He leaned against the doorpost, grief over taking him. Suddenly the floor shifted, pitching him forward onto the wooden boards. He began to feel nauseous as the floor tilted again, to the other side this time.
"Feeling alright there, lad?"
One day later, 1495
Warren sat up, jerking awake and gasping for breath. He yanked the sheet covering him down, looked around in confusion. "B-but… the farm, that man,…" he sputtered.
He stood, walked to the doorway of the room. It was unfamiliar. The wooden doorway was of a different, far better craftsmanship than the one that had been the door to his home.
The he remembered. His home had been destroyed. Shapes in his memory stirred, the dark figure killing Mary, the Englishman pulling him away from the cliff, a bolt of lightning striking the house as he was carried away, setting what was left of it ablaze.
His father. His lover. Everything. Gone.
He leaned against the doorpost, grief over taking him. Suddenly the floor shifted, pitching him forward onto the wooden boards. He began to feel nauseous as the floor tilted again, to the other side this time.
"Feeling alright there, lad?"