The small cabin was a welcome reprieve from the biting cold outside. It wasn't much—just four walls, a low ceiling, and a hearth that barely kept the chill at bay—but it felt like luxury after days in the snow.
Katrina sat near the fire, peeling off her boots and sighing as the warmth began to thaw her frozen toes. Her golden eyes flicked to the side of the room where a small wooden tub sat, half-filled with water that Jon had hauled in and warmed for her.
"You're really pushing the 'ladies first' thing," Katrina teased, glancing at him.
Jon smirked faintly from where he sat sharpening Longclaw. "You've earned it."
"Don't let her fool you," Reynolds said from his spot by the window, his tone light. "She loves the attention."
Katrina rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "You're just jealous you're not getting pampered."
"Damn right," Reynolds quipped, his grin widening.
With a chuckle, Katrina stood, grabbing a fresh cloth from her pack and heading to the tub. Dream darted up to her shoulder, chattering softly, as if eager to be involved. "You're not going to watch me, are you?" Katrina asked the cat, raising an eyebrow.
Dream purred, her tail flicking mischievously.
The warm water was bliss against Katrina's aching muscles. She leaned back in the tub, closing her eyes and letting the heat seep into her bones. The faint chatter of Jon and Reynolds in the other room blurred into the background, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional chatter of Dream, who had perched herself on the edge of the tub.
"You've got it easy, don't you?" Katrina murmured, glancing at the cat. "No shadows, no fire, no family drama. Just eating, sleeping, and bossing me around."
Dream tilted her head, letting out a series of chirps that sounded oddly like a retort. Katrina chuckled softly, her golden eyes softening. "I don't even know why I talk to you."
Dream responded with another chatter, flicking her tail as if to say, Because you need someone to listen.
Katrina shook her head, her smile fading as her thoughts drifted to Reynolds. She wanted to believe him—needed to believe him. But the inconsistencies, the way he dodged questions… it gnawed at her. And then there was Jon, always watching, always ready to call out a lie. It was exhausting.
"Why can't things just be simple?" she whispered.
Dream purred softly, her green eyes watching Katrina as she rested her head against the edge of the tub. The heat of the water, combined with the weight of her thoughts, lulled her into a drowsy haze. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before she realized it, she slipped into sleep.
The dream was immediate and vivid, the kind that felt more like a memory than imagination. She stood in a dimly lit room, the walls lined with books and tapestries that flickered in the glow of a single candle. It smelled of wax and smoke, familiar and oppressive.
Her father was there, sitting in a high-backed chair. His golden eyes glinted in the low light, sharp and piercing. He looked younger, less worn by time and power, but his presence was just as suffocating.
"Katrina," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "Come here."
Her feet moved before she could think, carrying her closer to him. She hated how small she felt in his presence, how her fire seemed to dim under the weight of his gaze.
"You've grown strong," he said, his tone almost approving. "Stronger than I expected."
"I'm not yours," Katrina said, though her voice wavered. "I never was."
He smiled faintly, a cold, calculating expression. "You are mine, Katrina. You always have been. The fire inside you is my gift, my legacy."
"No," she said, louder this time. "It's mine."
Her father stood, towering over her. "Do you truly believe that? Do you think you can escape what you are?"
Before she could respond, the room shifted. The walls dissolved into darkness, and the sound of a child's laughter echoed around her. She turned, her heart pounding, and saw a young boy with dark hair and bright golden eyes running through the shadows.
"Reynolds?" she whispered.
The boy didn't seem to hear her. He was laughing, his small hands reaching out as if playing a game. But then his laughter stopped abruptly, and he froze, his gaze snapping to something in the distance.
The shadows moved, coiling and writhing, and her father's voice rang out, cold and commanding. "Come to me, my son."
"No!" Katrina shouted, running toward the boy. "Reynolds, don't listen to him!"
But the boy didn't move. He stood frozen as the shadows enveloped him, and Katrina's screams echoed in the void.
Katrina jolted awake, water sloshing around her as she gasped for breath. Dream meowed sharply, her green eyes wide as she leapt from the tub and onto the floor.
"Katrina?" Jon's voice called from the other room, followed quickly by the sound of boots approaching.
"I'm fine!" Katrina said quickly, her voice trembling. She pulled herself upright, her hands gripping the edge of the tub as she tried to steady her breathing.
Jon stopped just outside the door, his dark eyes scanning her face. "What happened?"
"Nothing," she said, though her voice betrayed her. "Just… a dream."
Jon's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded. "Take your time. We'll be ready to move soon."
As he left, Katrina leaned back against the tub, her hands trembling. The vision of her father and the young Reynolds lingered in her mind, vivid and haunting.
"What are you hiding from me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Dream meowed softly, her tail curling around Katrina's foot, as if to comfort her. But the knot in Katrina's chest only tightened. Whatever her brother was keeping from her, she knew it wouldn't stay hidden for long.