Will Of The Mother

CYRAN

I jerk sharply to the touch of his hand on mine.

'Gylen?!' I gasp wildly. His face is vivid, clear and solid as stone…

'It's just Ryon, I'm afraid.'

He looks at me with a hint of amusement in his smile, that annoying expression he carries about is etched on his face like writing on stone. His hair is scattered, curly, now that they are unbound, but they lie neatly around his ears. It's admirable, the effortless beauty around this guy.

In a flash, those dark blue eyes are brown and they are searching, bloody and scratched….

I jerk back as he reaches out. 'You look positively hurt,' he says gently.

I frown confusedly. 'Hurt? What do you mean, "Hurt"?'

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes as he does so. 'Not on the surface, my friend.'

I turn away. The dreams try to come back in then, but I shut them out with the sounds of activity outside the tent. I focus on the shuffling feet, on the flapping clothes, on the sound of the whistling wind.

When I open my eyes, I catch sigh