Again, the fall to the floor managed to save Nate's sanity. If it weren't for the short drop, and sudden stop off the bed, who knew how long the dream would have lasted? Again, Nate stayed shuddering on the floor for a few minutes as he tried to reassure himself that it was just a dream, despite the fact that he knew it wasn't. It was more than just a dream, it was a memory, the memory that had driven him on this so far fruitless quest for the majority of his life. Without realizing what he was doing, he began flashing back to the dream, to the memory, seeing the silver dagger raised up, seeing it drop towards her breast, aimed at her heart. A low, feral growl came from Nate as he forced himself to stop. Constantly reliving that moment of his life, a moment that occured nearly two decades ago, would only drive him to madness. Certainly, he would seek justice for the wrong that was committed against his family, a family which he was now the last remaining member of, but that didn't mean he had to constantly torture himself with the memories of why he sought justice.
Footsteps, outside his room. It was merely someone shuffling about outside the door, probably grabbing something to drink, but it wouldn't do to have them see him in this state. With a startling alacrity, he forced himself back on his bed, the deeply pained look on his face quickly replaced with a bland disinterest. If asked, he had merely been woken up by the sounds outside, and was sitting up, wondering what they were. No one needed to know. ...well, except the council, but they had already known. That was something he would have to ask Damon about, why would a Romanian halfbreed, and the circumstances surrounding his family, be known in the far away land of Wisconsin? Theoretically, Prints-in-the-sand, his former Silent Strider guardian in the land of Khem, could have alerted the packs in this area to his coming, perhaps telling them to keep an eye on Nate.
Though the footsteps had long since vanished into silence, Nate slowly forced himself to stand up. After the latest dream, there would be no sleep for a while. Wincing as he got up, Nate looked at his left leg. The healers had indeed worked a miracle on him, but a dull pain still resonated up and down his leg, he would be limping for a day or two yet. Reaching down, Nate idly picked at the small scab with his left hand, it was all that was left of one of the three entry wounds on his leg. The scab came off fairly easily, and a drop of blood fell out, landing on Nate's finger. Sniffing the bloodied finger in interest, Nate could still feel a very slight burning sensation, as if some miniscule amount of silver was still in the blood. Looking away carelessly, Nate wiped the finger off on his right forearm.
But what was this? No sooner had the blood touched his arm than a slight, but definately noticeable, tingling sensation had started, coursing up and down his entire forearm. Looking at the strangely afflicted arm in interest, Nate was shocked to see that there was a slight change going on in the skin of the arm. Certain patches of skin began to darken, in a pattern, almost like a tattoo or marking of some sort. As they got darker, Nate realized that it was, in fact, a tattoo. Of what, he couldn't quite tell yet. Looking a bit further down his arm, to the back of his hand, Nate saw another tattoo, the symbol of the Silent Striders, but that had always been there. The darkening patch further up his arm, though, it was different. Growling, Nate wiped the blood away, as soon as his skin was dry, the mark quickly disappeared. Trying to forget about what just happened, and not quite knowing why, Nate decided he needed to go for a walk.