The windows in the Caradine household were small and rather thin, built in the traditional Baskar manner to allow light in and nothing else, so trespassers couldn't have the indecency to sneak in uninvited at night. A small spear of light pierced through the window and entered the room, lit only by the burning fire crackling downstairs. It was another day, one step closer to the possible demise of both Kaitlyn and Clive, as the day was born, Catherine reflected on this with desolation. The poor woman had gotten hardly any sleep during the night, only even attempting to go to bed after Shane had urged her to. He had told her that she would need sleep for the important day ahead of her. Though Catherine tried her best to take Shane's advice, her consciousness just couldn't bear to leave when she so worried herself like this.
She was sitting up on the bed she had borrowed from Halle and Shane, legs crossed underneath her with her back leaning against the wall, eyes closed and trying to sleep. Held in her arms and leaning against her cheek and shoulder was her husband's Gungnir ARM, the cold metal of it's composition nearly as frosty as Clive's arms had been when he left her, now just a bitterly sweet memory. She would probably never see him again in a human form. Catherine's hand went to the green clip stuck to the side of her sniper rifle, where the silver ammunition lay in anxious wait to be used. It no longer bothered her to tears that she may be forced to use it, if only luck could provide them with the cure that Shane and Gallows spoke of. She hoped to the gods that the others would bring back the ingredients they needed, otherwise…
Catherine leaned slightly to one side, hugging the weapon closer to her body. All she could do was pray that Jet, Virginia and Gallows would arrive soon, so she could add her contribution and actually do something, not just be dragged around like dead weight. She knew she should be ashamed for having such a selfish thought right where selflessness was required, but Catherine was feeling incredibly left-out by everyone else, when all she wished to do was help. Unnoticed tears leaked down her face and trickled along the side of the rifle, wanting to finally get some more sleep so she would not have to think about this for at least a little while.
That request was denied.
"Mrs Winslett?" First faint footsteps up the stone staircase, then the mildly cheerful face of the Baskar pillar, up bright and early with the dawn. He looked more than moderately happy as he approached, not dampened at all by Catherine's sullen mood. "Oh, you're already awake." Shane had come to offer her a pleasant wake-up call, though as it turned out, she really didn't need one. Opening her tired eyes to the world again, Catherine gave up the notion of sleep and smiled at him, the rifle sliding horizontally into her lap. It was nice to see a reassuring face sometimes.
"Did you come to wake me up, Shane?" She smiled, quickly wiping the automatic tears away so they could not be seen. Her legs felt stiff and numb from a lack of movement, and when she shifted them she received a slightly cold feeling down the nerves that spoke of an oncoming pins-and-needles attack. Her hand unconsciously touched the metallic weapon in her lap, wishing that she had set it somewhere else. From nowhere, she conceived a disquieting thought. "Wait a second. Shane, did you get any sleep? You look tired…"
The youth rubbed at his eyes for a moment, the automatic suggestion of sleep triggering the drowsiness that he had intentionally tried to keep locked away in the back of his mind. In truth, he hadn't gotten any more sleep than Catherine had. "I have been up all night trying to ready the alchemical equipment with Grandmother. It's very complicated, and I seem to have forgotten to sleep." She shrugged, the matter seeming of little importance. "How was your sleep?" He asked innocently, stretching.
Catherine looked down at her hands, tightly grasping Gungnir's side. "I had a nightmare." She sighed, her slightly shaking fingers pressing down on the cold unyielding metal, in tumultuous remembrance. "It frightened me badly, so I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night." She hated to sound so babyish and easily scared, but the dream had really shaken her to the core, enough to question whether or not the others would be coming back with salvation. Her dream, it had almost been prophetic, and if that was so, well, Catherine just didn't want to think about what would happen.
Comfortingly, Shane lightly moved to one of the vacant beds located nearby, and sat down, more than glad that he could rest for a little while. His grandmother had made him run around like a headless chicken organizing a horde of complex tools for hours on end, Shane was grateful for the relaxation. In fact, he could almost fall asleep on command, right now. Yet he didn't, wanting to console the troubled woman that had become one of his newest friends. The Baskar youth leaned against the wall and smiled, letting out a breath. "I used to be a dream seer," He informed her knowingly, "Why don't you tell me about your dream? Who knows, it might make you feel better." Shane paused, then added an extra input. "I could even try and interpret it, if you like."
She surprised him by looking surprised herself. "Oh, no! You really don't have to, I was merely thinking aloud. I don't want to be any trouble, your family is already being more than gracious to even let me stay here, I don't want to intrude." Catherine held out her hands in negation and looked a little embarrassed, showing him an anxious smile. She didn't want to burden her troubles on somebody who wasn't even involved too deeply with her problems, the thought was practically abhorrent to her.
Shane shook his head, ignoring her worried look. "It's no trouble, I would love to help you if I can. And the house," He indicated the surrounding area with the gesture of a hand, "Anybody can stay here, we Baskars are not a very material people, the concept of avarice and inequality is shunned in our culture, where the lowest neophyte has the same human rights as our chief elder. Anyone is welcome, as long as they show honour to those who rightly deserve it." The youth blinked, then blushed slightly. "But I digress. Sorry if I went off on a tangent there, Mrs Winslett."
"You can call me Catherine, Shane." She replied, a small weight being lifted off her chest in knowing that she was not burdening anyone as much as she thought. "My daughter does call your brother 'Uncle', and so that should consequentially make us good friends, I believe." Shane blinked owlishly at this thought, most likely trying to establish the connection between his 'Brother', and the word, 'Uncle'. It didn't look like it made much sense to him, but he smiled and nodded anyway.
"In that case," Shane drawled, gathering the notion into his sleep-deprived mind, "As good friends, I should think that it would be my duty to help make you feel better, which can easily happen if you share your dream with me. You don't have to worry, I won't laugh or anything, dream interpretation is my specialty…" The pillar shuffled into a more comfortable position, taking a pillow and setting it behind his back and he leaned into the wall again, the cushion soft and accommodating.
Unconsciously so that she didn't even realise she was doing it, Catherine drew Clive's rifle ARM back up into the way it was reclining before, the long sleek barrel pressed against her cheek. She sighed once more, hands absently fidgeting with the weapons extendable bolt, flicking it in and out in a repetitive manner. The gun was still loaded, so this was more than a little dangerous. Catherine barely even noticed. "All right," She breathed, the recollection of the dream a bitter taste in her mind, "I will tell, but please do not-"
"Of course I won't." Shane answered, beating her to the punch before her sentence could end. After a few moment, bird song quietly erupted from outside, the night finally throwing in the towel and yielding to the brand new day. Everything seemed to be less dark and dreary in the formation of a newborn daytime, even to a person who hadn't taken the time to sleep. Things were always judged differently following such a unique reincarnation, one that would happen indefinitely until the end of time. Inspired by this, Shane waited patiently for her to begin.
Catherine's words were deeply fraught with hesitation and unsure emotion, like speaking the words aloud would somehow make the horrifyingly true. "I dreamed that I was underground, where darkness was everywhere, enough to envelope me, and anybody else." She took in a breath before continuing, her fingers now playing with the ARM's holding strap, toying with the material as a slight amusement. "There I stood with my back against the wall, in an unidentifiable light, basking the central area with a strange pale illumination. I remained along it's edge for fear of being seen and included in the fight that was transpiring right in front of my eyes. I wanted so badly to intervene, but I just couldn't, something strange held me back."
"I see." Said Shane, thinking deeply on the intrinsic symbolism she was throwing up into his mind. It was not abstract visualisation at all, as he had originally had expected, but a dream with purpose and structure, oddly divinatory in it's substance. It gave him an unnerving feeling on the inside, his knowledgeable jade-coloured eyes apparently busy in elaborate analysis. "Continue. I'm listening."
"I saw two animals fighting tooth-and-claw in the light," She persisted, her hands now carefully winding the Gungnir's holding strap around one hand, head bowed and eyes closed in recollection, "There was an immense black raven and an ash-grey wolf, they looked just like the statues you showed me yesterday, but in flesh and blood, not lifeless stone. They were nearly insane in the way they tried to injure each other, it made me sick to my stomach, because I didn't want to see either of them hurt. I felt frozen, helpless. It was so awful, but I just couldn't do anything… Nothing…"
The woman paused for a long while, the time rolling by as she worked up the courage to continue with her story. "I was forced to watch every blow of the fight, but I could easily see who was going to be the victor. The raven was simply too small and too fast to be hit by the wolf, and the poor creature was dying from the wounds that had been inflicted upon it. I saw it fall to the floor and I thought my heart would explode in my chest. I knew, it was dying." Catherine loosened the strap around her hand and watched it unravel, her eyes unreadable. "The raven flew away and I did not see it again, but my limbs became unstuck and I ran to it-" She froze, then corrected herself, "…Him, the wolf, to see if he was alright. He was covered in his own blood and whimpering, I don't think I had ever been so worried or upset in a dream before. But then again, it didn't really feel like a dream at all. It felt like a terrible reality."
The Baskar said nothing.
"With as much care as I could, I picked him up and set him in my lap, though he was hardly breathing anymore. I thought, I knew he was going to die. His face was the only part of his body that was not hurt, so I wiped the blood away and hugged him. And then… and then… he licked my cheek and looked up at me," Catherine suppressed a sob and bit the side of her index finger, "And I saw, he had blue eyes. I knew after that… who it was…" Pressing both hands to her face, she started to cry. "I'm sorry, I can't go on."
Shane mentally kicked himself. Getting up from his seat, he leaned over Catherine's bed and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, regretting ever having opened his mouth in the first place. "No, I should be sorry. I shouldn't have pried into your personal dreams, please don't cry, Catherine." Not removing her hands, the woman shook her head, the tension in her fingers loosening so she could see through their gaps. It only felt worse in recollection, and here she was being selfish again, occupying Shane's attention when he probably had more important things to do.
Startling them both, the Baskar and drifter suddenly heard three loud bangs on the front door to the house, closed tight to keep all the warm air in during the relatively chilly morning. Hardly any more than a second later, it was followed by a solid 'thump!', like something large had just fallen against the door. Shane's first impulse was to go and check it out, but then he turned to the woman, who wiped her face and pushed him gently towards the door, recovering from her grief for the present moment.
Catherine got up and left the gun lying on the bed as she followed him, just a few steps behind. She could convince herself over and over again that it was 'Only a dream', but still some hidden part of her mind kept telling her to accept fate now and give up while she still could. Without a moment's hesitation, Catherine ignored it, knowing that the notion was simply wrong. She stood patiently behind Shane as he took hold of a small piece of cord that acted as the doorknob and pulled, the door swinging back open into the house, a smear of blood stretched across it's surface.
A horse was tethered outside to a small pole left for that purpose, the black stallion steaming quietly and sweating off all the energy he had burnt. Mearas nibbled quietly on a few blades of short grass and demanded nothing more, remaining quiet. His saddlebags were particularly empty and some weight had been discarded, the owner of the horse having removed them. The Baskar and the woman stared at the animal, striving to find words in the early morning sunshine.
Gallows fell into the building, flat on his face and critically exhausted.
He barely heard the gasp of surprise and concern for his health, or the hand that was placed on his neck to check for a pulse. Gallows knew, he was still alive. He had to be, he wanted to be. It was finally his time to prove that he was not as dumb or as undependable as his Granny thought, that idea made him smile. Gradually, he stretched one arm out on the stone floor and pushed a small bundle over to Shane's feet, bound tightly with a small piece of bandage. His nerves still felt like there was electricity running through them, and the random encounters he had fought in such a condition on the way back had taken it's toll. Gallows felt like shit, but still, he grinned. "Arnica…" He rasped, voice uneven, "There… It's all there… Ain't I just… damn fantastic…?"
On those words, he fainted.