9th Day of Planting, 565 CY
The Viscounty of The March, Furyondy
(About 120 miles NW of The Brass Dragon inn)
Oh no, Cygnus thought.
The mage held out his hand in front of him, palm up.
There it was. One drop, and then another.
The wizard turned his face up to the featureless, gray sky above just in time to get a big fat raindrop in his right eye.
"Aahh!" he cried out in frustration, pulling up the hood of his dark gray traveling cloak over his head. The horse under him shook its head, as if in agreement of Cygnus' opinion of the weather but kept up its gait.
"It's just rain, Cygnus." Nesco, riding alongside him, shrugged. Her hood had already been drawn up.
Cygnus grimaced. "Is it just me, or has this been the rainiest year this far since we've been here?"
"It's just you," came the voice of Zantac from behind. "Besides, what are you complaining about? I've got saddle sores I don't think even Talass could heal. I doubt you have that problem. You're such a twig, your horse probably doesn't even know it's got a rider."
Riding up ahead. Argo Bigfellow turned to his left and grinned at Aslan. "Are we there yet, father?"
The paladin sighed but did not reply. He had to admit; he was feeling rather tired and uncomfortable himself. It was perhaps an hour until sundown, and he knew from their last trip on this road that they would find no inn tonight. Making camp sooner than later appealed to him as much as anything did at the moment. He looked around at the grassy plains all around them. There were a few scrawny looking trees far off to the south, but it was debatable whether it was worth the detour to head for them.
"Elrohir!" Aslan called out to their party leader, who was riding with his wife in the lead.
The ranger turned his head around.
"Let's call it quits for today, Elrohir."
The ranger glanced over at Talass. Aslan could tell they were discussing something, but he couldn't quite make out the words. Elrohir then looked back at the paladin.
"I know there's no inn nearby, but I seem to remember a roadside shrine to Fharlanghn about a mile up the road, and Talass agrees with me. Good as place as any for stopping."
Aslan nodded and conveyed this news to the rest of the group. There were no objections, and they rode on.
As usual, it was Tojo who made the initial observation.
"Other traverrers," the samurai noted, pointing at the wooden shelter up ahead.
Cygnus sighed as he squinted through the rain and saw four horses tied to the large oak tree that grew beside the shelter. The road up ahead curved to the left and with the shelter on the road's left side, only its rear wall was visible from their present position.
The shelter was perhaps twenty feet long, eight feet wide and ten feet high at the front end, sloping down to about four feet high at the rear. A small annex attached to the shrine's left side was typically left filled with nonperishable food and essentials (flint, blankets, etc) by the clerics of Fharlanghn who passed through.
Cygnus looked back at Zantac, whose grimace mirrored his own. Neither wizard had prepared a shelterdome spell, in order to memorize more combat-oriented spells. Normally, Cygnus put up with the realities of traveling with little more than grumbles that his companions had long ago learned to ignore as little more than background noise. Zantac, while ill at-ease on a horse, seemed less likely to complain. Although he never made a move to volunteer with any of the chores involved with setting up or taking down camp, Zantac would always pitch in when asked. But only if asked.
Cygnus generally refused to do so. "Isn't that what rangers do?" He had inquired when the subject was first broached to him. When a cooked rabbit was handed off the spit to him that first time, and he had bit eagerly into the seared flesh only to gag on the vastly undercooked meat beneath, he had voiced his anger at his friends with little hesitation.
"If you don't like it, you can always fireball it," he was told. "Isn't that what wizards do?"
In the years since, both sides had more-or-less come to an uneasy truce on the matter, and now they each considered themselves smugly superior for putting up with the other side's obvious failure to understand just how these things worked.
When the party followed the road around to the left, Cygnus was not the first to spot the shelterdome off on the right, across from the shrine (In fact, it wasn't even Tojo- it was Talass), but he was probably the first to tense up. He was always leery of meeting other magic-users on the road, and the existence of the shelterdome indicated a good chance that a wizard of at least what the Willip Wizard's Guild called "second-tier" was present and could be studying them right now. Cygnus knew that from inside the opaque, dark gray surface of the shelterdome was as transparent as glass.
The center of the twenty-foot hemisphere was situated only thirty feet from the edge of the road. As the party approached, Elrohir signaled for Talass and the others to stay back.
The cleric looked at the rest of the party as they pulled up alongside her. "Never much saw the point in those," she offered, pointing at the shelterdome. "You get used to them, then where are you when you don't have one?" she shrugged. "Frankly, I'm surprised Sir Dorbin's party uses them."
"Yeah. They probably have this irrational fixation with comfort, and actually being able to sleep." That came from Zantac. Although Cygnus had been just about to put forth a similar opinion, now he could remain silent and let his fellow mage bear the ice storm.
Talass' cold stare did indeed send a shiver down the red-robed wizard's frame. "And if we're ambushed at night? What are you going to do- invite our attackers in for tea?"
Zantac crossed his arms. "Come on, Talass. Attacked- here in the middle of Furyondy?"
"It's happened before, Zantac. Our being attacked where we thought we were safe." The priestess then turned back to watch her husband, apparently unwilling to continue this conversation. Zantac looked over at Cygnus and shrugged.
Elrohir pulled up even with the shrine and dismounted. The horse snorted and blew steam through its nostrils, unhappy at being out in the rain, which was now increasing in intensity. It was a fine animal, but Elrohir still missed riding on White Lightning. They had discussed bringing her and Perlial along, but the uncertainties generated by Nodyath's recent actions had led them to err on the side of caution again.
Their steeds of course, had not complained. They never did.
A quick glance into the shrine's alcove revealed it to be packed full of hardtack, a waterskin, and various sundry items. Clearly, the quartet camped here were not hurting for supplies. The ranger turned back to the shelterdome just in time to see a cloaked figure emerge through the magical field and slowly approach him.
The figure was just over five feet tall and was fairly slender. She (Elrohir guessed it was a woman by her walk) was wearing leather armor underneath her dark green cloak. She walked cautiously towards him, but her hands made no move towards either the short sword in her scabbard, or the composite bow slung over her shoulder. The figure stopped at the side of the road, about ten feet from Elrohir. The ranger could see green eyes peering at him from underneath the hood. Elven, perhaps, he considered.
Elrohir raised a hand, palm outward. "Greetings!" he called out.
The figure did not reply, but after a moment, the hood bobbed up and down.
Not the friendliest sort, is she? The ranger thought, but then dismissed that. Many travelers, through brutal experience, had learned to be wary of strangers on the road and most were not nearly as powerful as Elrohir and his friends.
He decided to try again. "Ill weather for traveling. Hope it lets up by morning."
The figure continued to stare at him.
Well, I'm not getting any drier standing here. Elrohir decided to move things along. He pointed towards the shelter. "You seem to be well-supplied, although we have extra. If you lack anything, please feel free to ask. We're all brothers and sisters on the road," he added, employing one of the priesthood of Fharlanghn's favorite phrases. "We'll be setting up nearby."
The voice that came from under the hood was definitely feminine. Soft, but a bit reedy.
"We're fine, but thank you for your offer."
Elrohir motioned for the others to come forward and dismount. "Argo, get the tents up to the right of the shelter. Nesco, take care of the horses. Aslan-"
The paladin grinned. "I think we all know the drill, Elrohir. In the meantime…" he finished with a nod back towards the cloaked figure. When the ranger looked back, he saw that two other people had emerged from the shelterdome.
One was clearly a warrior of some kind. A male human of average height and weight, he seemed about Elrohir's age, perhaps a few years older. He wore plate mail but no helm, with a thick, red hoodless cloak behind. He carried a spear, and also sported a bow over his shoulder, a longbow in his case. The rain plastered his long brown hair over his high forehead as his hazel eyes quickly took in the new arrivals, and then darted over to his companion.
"Any problems, Saxmund?"
The figure shook her head but said nothing further.
The other figure was a few steps behind. This one was a few inches taller than Saxmund, but otherwise appeared very similar, and moved with the same easy grace that the woman had. Neither armor nor weapons were visible. This one pulled down its hood to reveal the features of a smiling, male half-elf.
This one was effusive as Saxmund was curt, bowing low to all of them.
"Hail and well-met, fellow travelers! I am Aelfbi Gemblossom, and these are my friends Saxmund and Garoidil! We're delighted to have such company on what seems to be shaping up to be a miserable evening! Is there anything we can assist you with?"
Elrohir noticed Saxmund and Garoidil now both wore polite smiles, but clearly neither seemed delighted with the Elrohir party's presence. The ranger was frowning to himself now, though.
Gemblossom. He had heard that name long ago but couldn't remember where, and his position as party leader did not allow for the luxury of reflection right now. He smiled back just as he noticed Garoidil shoot a questioning glance at Aelfbi.
The half-elf smiled at his companion, while fingering a locket of a golden heart hung around his neck. "We have nothing to fear from these good people," he said, but Elrohir caught his subtle emphasis on the word good.
He's a priest, the ranger realized. A cleric of Hanali Celani, the elven goddess of love! That thought put his mind at ease as he turned and pointed out his companions, who were all involved in either making camp or huddling under the shelter to keep dry.
"They'll come up later, but may I introduce my wife Talass, Aslan, Argo Bigfellow and his wife Caroline, Nesco Cynewine, Tojo, Cygnus and Zantac!"
The three nodded, although Elrohir saw Saxmund squint and stare at the shelter, where currently Cygnus and Zantac were huddled. Saxmund pulled her hood down, revealing bright red hair, cut fairly short. She was no elf. The woman frowned, putting a hand over her eyes as she continued to stare at the shrine with an intensity Elrohir found a little disturbing, if not outright rude. Garoidil put his hand on Saxmund's shoulder and said something to her the ranger couldn't catch. Saxmund began slowly to follow her two companions back towards their shelterdome, but her eyes remained riveted on the shrine's interior.
Inside, Cygnus and Zantac looked at each other. Zantac was the first to shrug and grin.
"Not my type. She must have a thing for toothpicks."
Cygnus scowled at him. "I had my type once already, Zantac. She's dead now."
Zantac was silent as Cygnus gathered up his backpack and bedroll that he had taken off. He could see one of the tents was just about set up, and he didn't like being under the gaze of that woman. He wasn't feeling particularly sociable in any event. He'd make a brief appearance later on if the others demanded it, but he'd just as soon-
The wizard tripped on a tree root as he exited the shelter and went headfirst into muddy, wet grass. His backpack went flying, and his spellbook fell right into a big puddle with a splash.
"Damn it!" he shouted out in frustration.
Saxmund, Garoidil and Aelfbi whirled around. The latter two gaped at each other in amazement but Saxmund began running at full speed, directly towards Cygnus.
The wizard's anger was fading fast, even as Zantac helped him to his feet and picked up his items for him. Saxmund did not slow down, and Cygnus suddenly realized that whatever Saxmund was doing, she wasn't coming over to help him.
Before he could think up a plan of action however, Argo and Tojo had stepped squarely into her path. Neither drew weapons, but their intent was unmistakable.
Saxmund pulled up short and held up her hands. "I'm not going to hurt him!" She said irritably. "I just want to see him!"
Argo's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Saxmund shook her head. "I can't explain. Please, just let me see him." She was already slowly walking around to Argo's right. Bigfellow nodded to Tojo, and the two followed, too close for Saxmund's liking, but the woman had apparently decided not to protest further.
Garoidil and Aelfbi slowly came up, as did the rest of the Elrohir party. A fair-sized crowd was now closing in where Cygnus and Zantac stood, and Cygnus didn't like this one bit. He felt Zantac squeeze his shoulder, and oddly, took some comfort in that. He took a deep breath and waited.
Saxmund walked right up to Cygnus, her expression one of growing astonishment. She moved her face to within a foot of his, her eyes open as wide as they could go. Her two companions had joined her now, and their faces mirrored theirs.
"It can't be," muttered Garoidil. "It's got to be a trick of some kind. One of Gasbabble's tricks."
Elrohir suddenly caught his breath. Talass looked over sharply at him.
I know that expression, the ranger thought. I've worn it before.
But before he could say anything, Saxmund turned her face back towards the shelterdome and screamed out.
"Kingus!"
Cygnus winced. This petite woman could really shriek. He opened his mouth to reprimand her- and heard his own voice shout back from the shelterdome.
"What is it? Damn it, Saxmund! You know I can't leave the-"
"To The Hells with the shelterdome! Get out here- NOW!"
And Cygnus watched himself emerge from the shelterdome, the hemisphere vanishing behind him.
He was dressed differently. He wore a black tunic and britches and was in the process of throwing a worn blue hooded cloak over himself. He muttered and cursed as he watched all of their belongings get soaked.
"Garoidil, Aelfbi," he said as he approached. "Get our stuff into the shrine, will you? What's so important that-"
He stopped. Now it was Cygnus who slowly moved to stand directly in front of himself.
Identical. Even to the amount of stubble currently on their chins.
There was no sound other than the implacable downpour.
The first human voice to be heard was Argo Bigfellow's.
"So, Kingus," the ranger said amiably. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Elrohir, Aslan, Argo, Cygnus and Tojo were currently crowded inside the shrine with Kingus and his companions, save Garoidil, who was setting up a small tent at about the spot where the shelterdome had been. Occasional mutterings and curses from the fighter came drifting their way, but he had refused all offers of help, even from his own allies.
The rest of Elrohir's party was currently in their own tents. It was uncomfortable crowded under the shelter and far from totally dry, as the wind occasionally blew cold droplets under the roof.
No one hear wanted to miss any of this conversation, however.
Elrohir and the others had begun first, explaining the concept of the Three Worlds and the counterparts to Kingus and the others. This was all new information to the new arrivals, whom had known they were on a different world than their own but had no inkling of the web that held the different worlds together. They had never even heard of Aarde.
As Elrohir and company had guessed, Kingus (whom Cygnus was shocked to learn was a sorcerer and not a wizard) and his companions were indeed from Rolex. Apparently, for a reason they would not disclose, they had gone up against an illusionist with the odd name of "Gasbabble," who turned out to be a lot more than they could handle. Gasbabble had banished them to the astral plane, where they had been stranded for an indefinite period of time before coming across the Mary Celestial. Like everyone else who had boarded the astralship, they had escaped in one of the steelspheres. The last one in fact, if their report was true.
Elrohir shook his head. "Unlike Argo, I believe in coincidences, but this strains every notion about Fate I've ever had. I thought traveling between the Three Worlds was difficult, but it seems not to be."
Bigfellow held up a finger. "It's neither coincidence nor common, Elrohir. I think I may actually have an explanation for this."
Aslan smiled. "Argo Bigfellow Junior, Master of the Mysteries of the Universe, will now favor us with his theory. Refreshments to follow."
Argo flashed his famous pained smile at Kingus and his friends. "I lay no claims to special knowledge in this field. I can barely hold my own in the simplest matters sometimes. Many claim I'm just a foolish braggart-"
"Not true. Only those who know you."
The ranger turned at Aslan's comment and gave a gracious nod of acknowledgement, then continued. "Hear me out on this, though."
The others waited patiently as Bigfellow collected his thoughts.
Looking at his friends, he began. "We encountered the Mary Celestial in the astral and when left in one of the steelspheres, we landed on Rolex, correct? This was not our doing; we had no way of guiding the sphere."
They nodded in agreement, and Argo continued. "Next, Nodyath and his allies also come across the Celestial by pure chance in the astral. They have no more influence over the ship than we did, yet their steelsphere takes them to Oerth."
"Nodyath!" exclaimed Kingus.
The others looked at him.
"Nodyath, the raider?" The sorcerer continued. "It is said the strange energies of the Devastation gave him vast and terrible powers. They say no one can stand up to him." Kingus looked at Saxmund and Aelfbi, and the three were momentarily silent.
"But you never meet Nodyath." Tojo put in. A statement rather than a question.
Saxmund shook her head, but Aslan turned to the samurai. "How do you know that, Tojo?"
He received a raised eyebrow in return. "They not panic when see your face, Asran-san."
"Oh, I don't know," Argo jumped on the straight line. "I panicked the first time I saw Aslan's face, and I'd never even heard of Nodyath then."
Aslan's mock ire turned to Tojo rather than Argo. "I swear you feed him those lines deliberately, Tojo."
The samurai gave a look of false effrontery. "Arways mean what I say, Asran-san. Not understand- 'feeding rines'?"
The paladin sighed. "Never mind."
"In any case," cut in Elrohir. "Argo, please continue."
"Now, our new friends here also happen to encounter the Mary Celestial when thrown into the astral, and also wind up here," Argo went on. "Now, none of us have any idea who first built the Celestial, but it seems to continually sail the region of the astral plane that's near, for lack of a better word, the Three Worlds. I believe that astralship may have originally been designed for that very purpose."
"Hmm," Kingus mused. "But if that is true, we took the last steelsphere when we left. The ship to us gave the appearance of being abandoned long ago. If your theory is true, even if we were able to return to the astral plane, the Mary Celestial could no longer help us get home."
"Our steelsphere landed within a great forest- the Vesve," explained Aelfbi. "Shortly after seeing two moons in the sky, we knew we were a long way from home." A smile played across the half-elf's lips. "Luckily for us, we were able to locate a nearby village of woodsmen called Ironstead. They directed us to a patrol of the Knights of the Hart. We offered our services to them as scouts and skirmishers. Apparently you have even worse problems with orcs than we do back home. After a while, we were able to accumulate enough money to have a divination cast for us on how to find our way back home."
The priest looked intently at Elrohir now. "It said, The Brass Dragon can show the way."
Elrohir smiled at his allies as Aelfbi went on.
"Naturally, we had no idea how to proceed with that little piece of information. But, oh, a little over two weeks ago I'd say it was, our unit rotated commanders. The new one overheard us discussing our problem and said there was an inn called the Brass Dragon several weeks journey to the southeast." He grinned at the others. "He said it was run by strange people."
Argo returned the grin. "This new commander. He wouldn't happen to be a Ranger Lord, would he? A knight by the name of Sir Damoscene?"
Kingus nodded. "That's the one. I remember because he was the only one we'd met here who worships the Olympians. Garoidil was quite happy."
"Myself as well," said Argo.
"You should come back to Hellas, if you ever get the chance," Aelfbi replied.
Argo looked thoughtful but was silent.
Other topics of conversation were introduced, but Cygnus, currently sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest, rested his head on his knees and looked again at Kingus and Saxmund.
While he and his counterpart of course shared many similarities (Cygnus remembered he had once thought his counterpart would turn out to be a power-crazed, manipulative bastard), the wizard had known right off that they were not going to be close friends. Like Cygnus, Kingus seemed guarded about many aspects of his personal life. Most disappointingly, as far as Cygnus was concerned, was that Kingus absolutely refused to give out any information at all about his personal life.
His eyes had been hard. "Don't even ask, Cygnus," Kingus said. "Don't even ask."
Cygnus frowned as he thought. He had hoped to unravel just a few questions he had always had about his own grandfather, but it seemed that Kingus had been dealt a hard hand in that department, as well. Maybe, the wizard thought ruefully, he is a manipulative bastard after all. After all, a lot of people say the same thing about me.
Are they wrong, Cygnus?
Cygnus furrowed his eyebrows. That last thought had been his own, but he didn't like the specter it raised. He returned his gaze to the pair in front of him, but only out of the corner of his eye. For the most part, Cygnus and Kingus just couldn't look each other in the eye for more than ten seconds or so. It just got too uncomfortable staring at your own face like that.
Saxmund was another matter. The young woman sat next to Kingus; their hands clasped in a way that clearly suggested an intimate relationship. Cygnus noted that she would stare at him, and then look over to Kingus, as if trying to imagine in what ways the counterparts might differ. Although she looked nothing like Hyzenthlay (and Cygnus had thanked Odin for that. He would not have been able to handle meeting Hyzenthlay's counterpart), Saxmund had seemed almost wistful when Cygnus had mentioned his son Thorin.
The mage tried to clear his head and rejoin the conversation.
"So," Kingus was saying, "this priest in Willip- Lancoastes. You say he has the means to send this Sir Dorbin and his friends back to Aarde. Are you certain he could send us home to Rolex, as well?"
"Yes, but that may not be your biggest problem," Elrohir said cautiously.
Saxmund frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What year was it was you left Rolex?" the ranger asked.
"Which calendar?"
"Old elven. The original."
Aelfbi answered as if he thought the question slightly bizarre. "5549, of course. What else could it be?"
Cygnus looked grim. "The elven calendars are the only equivalent ones on both Rolex and Aarde. That's the same year Sir Dorbin and his crew left Aarde." The mage concentrated on Elrohir. "I'm afraid it may be as we fear. They may have left Rolex before the change."
"What change?" Kingus asked, a growing note of concern in his voice.
His counterpart turned to him. "That getting back home is more a question of when than where. You may be six hundred years too late."
The three of them went white. Aslan began explaining about Tovag Baragu, but Cygnus watched as Argo slowly got his feet.
"What is it, Argo?"
The big ranger frowned back at him. "Caroline had to- take care of business. She should have been back by now"
Argo Bigfellow looked around him, trying to use all his skills and experience to see through the rain, and not let his eyes be distracted by the ever-falling drops. Garoidil's tent was now up, and the fighter undoubtedly sulking inside for some reason Argo didn't know and didn't care about. Three other tents were set up near the shrine. He looked at the one that was his. Caroline might have just decided to crawl back inside and go to sleep- she'd said she hadn't been feeling well, but that didn't feel right to Argo. His wife would have stopped back at the shrine just to tell him. He headed towards it anyway, just to check it out, when he saw her, far off to the left.
She seemed to be kneeling on the grass about a hundred yards out, and was bent over, her face almost touching the ground.
Argo was off like an arrow.
He slowed down as he approached, however. The ranger's nose told him before his eyes did that Caroline had been throwing up. Argo clamped down on his instinct to simply ask what was wrong. He knew his wife.
Argo walked slowly around Caroline, so that she could see who it was by his boots, and then slowly lowered himself down to his knees in front of her, just a little off to the side of the pinkish mess she had deposited on the grass.
"Hey, there," he said softly.
Caroline looked up at him. Her smile was weak but genuine, and it helped put Argo at ease a little. He said nothing, merely waited.
"You're going to send Kingus and the others on to Willip, right?" She asked. "Have them stop at the Brass Dragon first?"
Argo was puzzled. This wasn't what he had been expecting, but he nodded.
"Sure. Seems reasonable to me. You?"
Caroline nodded. "Very," she whispered, and then looked back, into Argo's auburn eyes. The ranger knew his wife was about to say something very hard for her, even if he had no idea what it might be.
Lady Bigfellow turned and spat out on the ground a few times, and then looked back at Argo. She was not meeting his gaze now, though. "I think- I should go back with them and stay at the Brass Dragon."
Now she did meet his gaze and saw the surprised look she had expected to see.
"I'm not a coward, Argo. You know that!" Her voice was louder than she intended, but fine control of any portion of her body was a task beyond her, right now.
Argo held up a hand. "Don't be foolish, my love. We both know you'd take on a Titan for me. What's the real reason?"
Caroline's brown eyes danced around, and with a shock Argo knew that Caroline wasn't exactly sure of what the reason might be. Only that it was important enough for her to voluntarily tear herself away from the man she loved.
Unable to articulate clearly, Caroline seized upon emotion. "I mean, you have to be happy about this, right? I know you worry about me. I almost got killed back in Highport! I couldn't even defend myself against one lousy ogre! You're afraid I'm the one in Talass' vision, aren't you? I'm the one who won't come back!"
She started sobbing.
"Dammit, I'm always crying. I hate that!" The tears did not stop, however.
Argo scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulder. "Let me tell you something, love," he whispered in her ear. "I don't believe in Talass' vision."
Caroline looked at him in surprise. "You don't?" she managed.
The ranger shook his head. "If anyone of us dies, Aslan will teleport them back to Chendl to be raised, just as the king promised," he said, and then shrugged. "And if it's Aslan who dies, then I seriously doubt any of us will be coming back. So you see, Talass' vision of only one person dying can't be true!" he smiled at her.
Caroline returned the smile, again somewhat shakily. She knew he was trying to distract her, but that was all right. It allowed her to try and say what she had to say again.
"I just feel that I should be at home," she began, gesturing hopelessly with her hands. "If I can't focus completely in battle, I'll be nothing more than a liability; to myself, you and everyone else!" She nestled her head against his chest, and let the sobs subside. "Admit it, Argo," she said softly. "You're glad I won't be in harm's way."
Argo lifted his wife's chin, to stare directly into her eyes.
"I'm happy that you were able to tell me something that I know was very difficult for you, and that you have the courage to follow through." His expression showed no trace of mirth now. "I have nothing else to be happy about right now and frankly, I don't think you'll be out of harm's way at the Brass Dragon."
She searched her husband's eyes.
"Tad wasn't."
Caroline nodded and put her head down again. "I'll be all right there, love, but," and here she hesitated, "I know you don't put much stock in dreams, but I've been having them, too. A lot, lately."
She looked back up at him. Argo asked the question with his eyes. Caroline shrugged helplessly.
"Nothing I can remember clearly. They're dreams about life- and death."
Now it was the ranger's turn to shrug and smile weakly. "Well," he said, "that about covers it all, doesn't it?"
Caroline did not answer but squeezed her husband tightly for all she was worth. She fought to keep the sobs from starting up again.
No, she thought to herself. That's the problem. It doesn't.