~AN~ Okie-do, I'll make this quick. Just a little "I-Am-Stupid-I-Can't-Believe-I-Made-That-Mistake" note.

*ahems* In the first chapter, I said the Dining Hall was filled with "third-level nightmaren". *begins whamming her head on her desk* You know those first-levels I mentioned in the author's note, the ranks of soldiers guys? That's who I meant. It should have been "nightmaren", not "third-levels". *continues whamming head, repeating herself as she does* I will NOT call first-levels third-levels. I will NOT call first-levels third-levels.

Second mistake: During NiGHTS' brief conversation with Puff-ball, he mimics Clawz. One of his sentences is "You're a first-level, for goodness' sake, NiGHTS!" *continues whamming her head* "First-level" should have been "High Seeker". *is still whamming her head* WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

*sigh* Sorry. Our car died in the driveway three weeks ago, our sewage system went pot a week or two before that, and our hot water heater kicked the bucket a week after. Not to mention the breaker connected to our washer keeps kicking off, so our basement was flooded a few days ago. Meaning we've been kind of busy. Along with all that, I'm already going through end-o'-the-school-year-braindead syndrome; therefore I'm not really surprised that I made a mistake. Ah well. I fixed said mistakes, and re-checked this chapter for any, so thankfully you won't have to worry about finding more. Enjoy the story!

Insomnia: *holds up a sign*

Sign: REVIEW.

Insomnia: *flips over sign*

Other Side Of Sign: THANK YOU!

Disclaimer: I don't like lima beans. I really don't like cabbage. I hate roasted duck. I REALLY hate bullies. Unfortunately, that last item on the list isn't something that will go away by eating it.

Chapter Two:

Distant The Thunder

Thus sayeth the Lord; Behold, waters rise up out of the north, and shall be an overflowing flood, and shall overflow the land, and all that is therein; the city, and them that dwell therein: then the men shall cry, and all the inhabitants of the land shall howl.

Jeremiah 47:2

Vespers was flying as fast as she could. Considering she was one of the speediest in her class, that was pretty fast. But it didn't help; the nightmaren behind her had far more experience with flying, and no matter what kind of stunt she pulled off, she couldn't lose him.

She pulled back and shot straight up, hoping to catch him by surprise; he followed her easily. Desperate, she gathered up the last of her energy and got ready to use her final resort attack.

"Paraloop!" she shouted.

The vortex created by her last-ditch effort was enough to send her pursuer tumbling out of control. Unfortunately, she'd used all of her strength to pull it off. With a groan, her body went limp, and she fell towards the ground.

"Vespers!" bellowed her teacher.

Vespers, known as Ves to her friends, groaned again and pulled herself off the trampoline she'd just hit. "Yes, Miss Luna?"

"How many times have I told you that you can't just let yourself fall like that?"

"Thirteen?" hazarded Vespers.

The older nightmaren sighed and shook her head, pushing a stray wisp of silver hair out of her eyes. "Fifteen, Vespers, fifteen. And, had those been real events and not training lessons, you would have died fifteen times by now. Sixteen, counting this one."

Vespers bowed her head ashamedly. "I'm sorry, Miss Luna, I just run out of strength and then I can't help but fall."

Luna evaluated the young nightmaren for a moment sternly. Then she smiled. "Hey now, don't look so down about it. You'll get stronger."

"Thank you, Miss Luna," replied Vespers, bowing hurriedly and heading back to her place in line.

Luna smiled and turned back to the row of young maren. "Who's next?"

Another young girl stepped forward and raised her hand. "I am, Miss Luna."

Luna nodded once. "Alright, then, Starshine. Get yourself ready." She looked over at the panting nightmaren stretched out on the floor, his back propped against the wall. "You ready for another round, Corbeau?"

Corbeau grinned and got up, stretching carefully. "Sure."

"Alright, then. Star, go stand over there. Now you know the rules: no touching ground, and no offensive moves unless you absolutely must; you're supposed to be running, not attacking." She directed a glare at a certain young male maren in line, who blushed embarrassedly. "So no turning around and tackling Corbeau like some people did, is that clear?"

"Of course it is, Miss Luna."

"Good. Corbeau?"

"Roger."

"Alright. Ready. Set. Go!"

The nightmaren both took off, the young girl trying desperately to keep ahead of the older scouter. Corbeau was careful to keep just behind her, never too close and never too far. He was talented in the area of aerial stunts; it was why he'd been chosen as a scout in the first place.

NiGHTS, watching from the doorway, had to smile. The youngsters were all the same: hopeful, eager, excited, wanting to prove themselves to their teacher. They were so full of exuberance.

A frown touched his mouth. Soon enough, these children would be facing war. Only yesterday Wizeman had announced they'd be taking over the Waking World, which meant that they'd be fighting. And this time there wouldn't be a trampoline underneath for anyone who ran out of energy.

'Wizeman knows best,' he decided. 'If he thinks these kids are ready to help take over the Waking World, then they are.' But still, he couldn't help but feel slightly worried.

"S'not like I'm going to take orders from a hairball-hurling cat."

"What?!"

Puffy sighed and concentrated harder on her book. Gulpo, underwater as he was, couldn't really hear what was going on and thus didn't mind the argument currently underway across the room. Gillwing just tucked his head deeper into his side and hoped it would be over soon.

Jackle and Clawz had, unfortunately, been assigned to patrol leader positions for the day. Individually that would not have been bad; it was the fact that they had to work together that was causing a bit of trouble.

It was a well-known fact that Jackle and Clawz had a less-than-friendly relationship. Clawz viewed Jackle as a empty-headed, completely off the wall joker who was very probably clinically insane; Jackle in his turn saw Clawz as a narcissistic cat who had no real personality beyond his love for himself and explosions. These viewpoints obviously caused some rather large rifts between the two, the most recent of which sparked a long campaign consisting of hundreds of sniping remarks and practical jokes, including a few rare moments of violence, explosions, and wet noodles. (Jackle had been heavily involved with the wet noodle part.)

The two managed to keep themselves well-behaved while in Wizeman's presence, so the issue had never been addressed; it was, however, a very well-known problem. At least, the other High Seekers viewed it as a problem; Clawz saw it as annoying, but enjoyable when he scored a point, and Jackle saw it as alternately fun and aggravating.

Currently, the two were at it hammer and tongs over a comment of Clawz's: namely, the line 'I'll lead. You'll be the vanguard.' Jackle, annoyed by the catmaren's nerve to give him orders when they were officially on the same level, replied with something referring to the catmaren's courage, or rather lack thereof; and that had started them off.

Puffy tried vainly to shut the two out by focusing on her book. When that didn't work, she tried bending her ears down and pressing them close against her head; it muffled the sound a bit, but not enough to achieve much-wanted silence. Resolving not to let the two snarling nightmaren get to her, she stared hard at the page.

Then, there was silence. For a moment no one moved. Eventually Puffy looked up, Gillwing lifted his head from his flank, and Gulpo opened one eye lazily; the two combatants were now involved in a stare-down.

'Well, at least it's quiet,' thought Puffy with a resigned sigh. Once again she looked back down at her book and concentrated on finding out more about those fascinating humans called opera singers.

Jackle, apparently, tired of the staring contest first and looked away. Clawz grinned triumphantly. Jackle ignored him.

"So are you guys gonna go out on patrol?" asked Gillwing, earning himself evil glares from four different people all at once. He shut up and curled back into a ball, silently wondering what he'd said wrong. Sometimes he wished he had been created as smart as the others, or at least with more brains than he currently had.

Puffy sighed and looked over her page at the two fuming nightmaren. "You're going to have to go out sometime."

Two of the four evil glares were now transferred to her. She colored and ducked back behind her book, retreating into a silent huff. Clawz and Jackle eyed her for a moment more, then glanced at the only other person in the room, Gulpo; the huge fish was floating languidly in his bowl, eyes closed, not bothering to see what would happen next. No more audience participation, then.

Clawz's gaze returned to the demi-maren in front of him, and he sniffed condescendingly. "We'll go out, Gillwing, as soon as this maren finds himself a proper body."

Jackle stiffened as quickly and harshly as if someone had shoved a ramrod straight down his back. Puffy's eyes widened, and she inhaled quickly; Gillwing winced. Even Gulpo looked up interestedly. Jackle didn't reply; he merely stood there, gazing at the catmaren with a frozen expression. Behind him Gillwing whimpered.

If there was one thing you didn't do, it was slight Jackle about his body. The demi-maren originally didn't mind the fact that he was created different from the first-levels; however, over time, and due largely to Clawz's influence, the idea of not having a visible body became connected with a person not having as much value. Clawz, using it as an insult, might as well have called Jackle a Nightopian to his face. Although, to get the full effect he'd just gotten now, Jackle would have had to possess a Nightopian body as well.

The demi-maren continued to stare at him, his eyes silently searching his opponent's; then, he turned away, pulling his mantle tight about himself as he did so. His voice floated back to Clawz in a low murmur.

"At least I don't have fleas."

The catamaran's back arched slightly, but he refrained from retorting; the demi-maren's tone had been too bland and dull to carry any real sting, purposely non-challenging. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Finally Jackle turned back to face Clawz, pulling out a deck of cards as he did so and beginning to shuffle them rapidly. It was almost a nervous tick for him. When he was excited, he shuffled cards; when he was disturbed, he shuffled cards; when he was worried, he shuffled cards; when he was thinking, he shuffled cards; when he was energized, he shuffled cards. It seemed as if every other moment he had a deck in his hands. The other High Seekers had gotten used to the almost indistinguishable whir the cards made as he cut and shuffled them; for Clawz, it was as annoying as fingernails screeching across a blackboard. And Jackle knew it.

The catmaren pulled back his ears and narrowed his eyes, but said nothing; Jackle smirked but also remained silent. Both knew he was wordlessly showing his defiance, and the room waited to see if he'd go the step further.

He didn't. After a moment he sighed, returned the deck to wherever it had come from with a quick flip of his wrist, and squared his shoulders. "Might as well get it over with."

"Fine," spat Clawz. "But keep your filthy self in back."

Jackle's eyes widened at the mostly unprovoked insult; then he grinned. "Sure. But I'm not responsible for you, understand?"

"What? I---" Pausing, the catmaren decided it wasn't worth it, and instead turned and stalked out.

There was a tangible feeling of relief in the air the moment he was gone. Puffy peered at Jackle from around her book. "Jackle, you really shouldn't---"

"Argue like that?" finished the demi-maren. "Yeah, I know. But that prissy kitty grates my nerves like nothing else. You heard him…" His shoulders drooped slightly. "You heard him insult me."

Puffy paused, unsure as to how to answer; the insult had been a low one. After a moment, Jackle straightened up, petted Gillwing on the neck with a 'See you later, pal', and went out the door, looking as cheerful as someone who is headed to their execution.

Once he was gone, the silence was broken by a low whimper from Gillwing. Puffy looked over at the dragon-looking maren, absentmindedly wondering why he and Jackle got along so well; Gillwing was big, dull, and acted too much like a child or pet to carry on any real conversation with. Yet somehow, Jackle managed to have a decent relationship with him. Jackle was strange.

"I hope the Infirmary has a surplus of bandages and antiseptic," commented Gulpo to the air. "Someone's going to need it, if those two go out on a patrol together." And he ducked back underwater.

Callous as the comment was, Puffy had to agree with him.

Reala rubbed his forehead wearily. "Let's go over this one more time."

The young nightmaren all nodded quickly, some nervously shuffling their feet. Reala ignored the desire to snap at them to stop it and continued.

"Now. When you're flying, the most important thing is control. If you don't keep control of yourself, you'll make a mistake. Perfect and absolute control; that's what you're to strive for. Understand?"

A round of head nodding.

"Good. Now tell me, what were you all trying to do?"

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the dull sound of shuffling feet. Eventually one young maren piped up. "Survive?"

"Survive," Reala repeated.

"Yessir."

Reala turned away, hands clasped behind his back, perfectly-cut fingernails tapping on his other hand's skin gently, coolly, measured. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. "Survive. The one thought on your minds, above all else, driving all you did, could be summed up in that word. Survive."

A round of head nodding again; then, when they realized he couldn't see them, there was a chorus of "yessir"s.

Reala sighed, mentally asking himself what he'd done to deserve this. 'I never should have given their sparring instructor the duty of teaching them flying lessons. I'm going to have to speak with Luna later.' He turned back to them and began pacing down the row.

"You say you were trying to survive. I'm not surprised. The desire for survival is in all of us; it's normal, it's instinct. But this is not a normal situation."

He paused half-way down, turning to face them all. "This, children, is a grand and glorious mission, and there is no room for personal desires. Your lone goal is one thing, and one thing only: to help our ruler Wizeman conquer the Waking World. That's what you're training for, and that's what I'm going to see you doing, or else you'll be facing me. Are there any questions?"

There was a mass shaking of heads. Reala nodded, satisfied, and resumed the flying lesson where he'd left off earlier. Already he saw a major improvement in their attitude, although one or two of the boys still joked around while waiting for their turn. He sighed and tried to ignore them.

High above, perched on a windowsill, NiGHTS shook his head. 'That's my brother. Go off into a grand-sounding speech, and then fall back onto your reputation. You're a predictable one, Reala.'

Still, he had to admit his brother's tactics worked. Already there was a noticeable difference in the maren below; they were focused on winning now, not surviving. They were soldiers.

'They're children.'

He felt something in his chest twist a bit, and had to concentrate before he could rid himself of a mental sour taste. Shaking his head distractedly, he slid off the sill and headed for Mystic Forest. He needed to think, and the forest was good for that.

A scream resounded through the air.

Then another.

Then another.

Another.

And another.

They were ear-shattering.

And off-tune.

"GEEZ, Clawz, will ya just grab the stupid thing already?"

Clawz screeched to a halt in his enthusiastic chase of a dreamer and glared at the demi-maren. "Who's leading this patrol?"
"Marvin the Martian."

There was a pause.

"Who?"

"Dunno. I heard some dreamer muttering about it a little while back. Sounds like a band leader."

There was another pause.

Clawz focused back on his chase, only to find that the girl, while he'd been staring at Jackle, had woken up. He turned back to the demi-maren with a snarl. "You let her get away!"

"Correction," replied Jackle mildly. "You let her get away."

Clawz's reply was a cross between a growl and a strangled curse; then, he turned to the group of nightmaren behind him. "Spread out. I want you all within sight of each other, but no closer. We're combing this forest top to bottom. Understand?"

The maren all nodded their heads once, a sharp, synchronized movement. These were not amateurs; they'd all been on patrols before. They knew how to keep on the catmaren's good side.

Apparently, Jackle didn't.

He hadn't actually been rude; he'd just been less than helpful. Clawz had had to mentally restrain himself several times to keep from swiping the demi-maren straight across the face. Thankfully, Jackle seemed content for the moment to keep quiet and float along behind the group, ignoring the glances thrown his way. As the nightmaren spread out, he moved back a step, waiting until they'd started forward before following at an easy glide. He sighed under his breath. Patrolling for dreamers; what an exciting activity.

Jackle and Clawz were the two top choices for patrol leaders; both had an infamous reputation, were quick thinkers, and possessed excellent fighting skills. A pity that patrolling didn't really require any of this. The most they were likely to run into was a dreamer or two, and the thought of a human being even vaguely threatening to a nightmaren was laughable, if not downright insulting. Why Wizeman had ordered both of them to accompany this trip was beyond the demi-maren's comprehension.

There was a burst of noise over to his right, and he jerked his head in that direction, hoping for some action. Ah, yes; a dreamer shot out of the foliage, a maren hot on his tail. Jackle slowed to a halt and watched with an interested eye.

The chase was short-lived; the nightmaren was fast. Within moments the dreamer, a young boy who was probably only ten or eleven, was on the ground and dispossessed of his Ideya: yellow, white, and green. Hope, Purity, and Intelligence. A thinker, then. He'd be a philosopher when he grew up, or something of the sort.

The boy seemed terrified. He cowered on the ground, almost crying. Jackle's sharp ears picked up a whisper from one of the other nightmaren to his neighbor. "I guess we know whether he's got a Courage Ideya."

He chuckled, startling the two nightmaren; when they saw him looking at them and paled, he winked. The two watched silently as he turned away and began shuffling a pack of cards calmly.

One of them leaned over to whisper in the other's ear. "Good hearing, he's got."

"Yeah. Nice temperament, too. Clawz would've snapped at us."

"Maybe, but at least Clawz is sane."

"You're saying Jackle's not?"

"Maybe he is, but I wouldn't bet anything big on it. He's nice, yes, but then most usually are until they show it later on. Just wait until he has problems in his life, and he'll show."

"If you say so."

"You don't think?"

"Loony, sure. He's the weirdest maren here. But insane? I don't know if I'd go that far."

"I would."

"Yes. You would."

"Yeah, but you didn't hear it from me."

"Hear it? I didn't hear anything."

Both nodding in satisfaction, they parted ways.