[subtitle]To Paint in New Colors[/subtitle]
Olin sank into his bed with a groan, glad that Tristam was taking advantage of the time remaining until curfew.
If I ever catch that Drin alone and distracted, Olin thought with an unfair grumble as he rubbed shoulders that had grown bruised from blocking surprisingly powerful blows. He wished in vain for the ability to be able to channel the dust and dirt off his clothing, but he knew that if he did so there would be far worse repercussions than if he simply lived with the pain and stiffness. He had been feeling restless of late, he loved his classes and the things he was learning to do were incredible, but for a man used to being outside all day and through many nights he had been feeling cooped up. And so he had decided to join the Warder class on unarmed fighting, a chance to enjoy the sun and excercise.
As he drifted off to sleep, Olin tossed and turned on the simple bed provided by the Grey Tower. His body protested with muscles he had almost never used aching and so he found himself trying to ignore the pain as he floated between dozing and true sleep.
Suddenly he was surrounded by a blackness deeper than the night of no moon on the foothills, surrounded by an endless sea of lights that shone like balls of moonlight. Each of those stars seemed as if he could touch them with a thought, although he noticed some seemed almost fuzzed out by some mist or fog. A few seemed brighter to him as he looked around before he realized that he had no idea why he suddenly felt so alert.
Before panic could set in, Olin felt a vague sensation of falling, and suddenly the image faded and was replaced by the cool night of a mountain fall.
Light headed fool, I'll fall asleep in the saddle next if I'm not careful, Olin thought to himself as he watched over the grazing cattle in the dip below him. This night was one like many others he had spent, watching to make sure no calf wandered off and checking for signs that a predator had been at the herd. It was small wonder his mind had wander for a moment, a fleeting dream of glory and learning something beyond ranching.
A vague sense of being watched kept nagging at him, and he kept seeing small shifts out of the corner of his eye, but he shook it off as fatigue. He had been working hard of late, the predators and other nuisances all agitated by the movement of the large herds that the dwindling grazing required. As he turned quickly trying to spot the sense of movement and blurring just to the side of him, Olin realized the night had gone silent. That was when he noticed the red and blue spots spreading on his pants. A vague memory passed over him, the thought touching his mind like spiderwebs before the colours began to swirl and swirl.
Soon a wave of paint washed over the hillside, a purple and bright crimson torrent and just before it hit him, Olin jolted awake to find himself safe in his bed.
What in the Light was that? I've always had vivid dreams before, but nothing like this, Olin thought to himself as he sat on his bed and calmed his breathing.
If I ever catch that Drin alone and distracted, Olin thought with an unfair grumble as he rubbed shoulders that had grown bruised from blocking surprisingly powerful blows. He wished in vain for the ability to be able to channel the dust and dirt off his clothing, but he knew that if he did so there would be far worse repercussions than if he simply lived with the pain and stiffness. He had been feeling restless of late, he loved his classes and the things he was learning to do were incredible, but for a man used to being outside all day and through many nights he had been feeling cooped up. And so he had decided to join the Warder class on unarmed fighting, a chance to enjoy the sun and excercise.
As he drifted off to sleep, Olin tossed and turned on the simple bed provided by the Grey Tower. His body protested with muscles he had almost never used aching and so he found himself trying to ignore the pain as he floated between dozing and true sleep.
Suddenly he was surrounded by a blackness deeper than the night of no moon on the foothills, surrounded by an endless sea of lights that shone like balls of moonlight. Each of those stars seemed as if he could touch them with a thought, although he noticed some seemed almost fuzzed out by some mist or fog. A few seemed brighter to him as he looked around before he realized that he had no idea why he suddenly felt so alert.
Before panic could set in, Olin felt a vague sensation of falling, and suddenly the image faded and was replaced by the cool night of a mountain fall.
Light headed fool, I'll fall asleep in the saddle next if I'm not careful, Olin thought to himself as he watched over the grazing cattle in the dip below him. This night was one like many others he had spent, watching to make sure no calf wandered off and checking for signs that a predator had been at the herd. It was small wonder his mind had wander for a moment, a fleeting dream of glory and learning something beyond ranching.
A vague sense of being watched kept nagging at him, and he kept seeing small shifts out of the corner of his eye, but he shook it off as fatigue. He had been working hard of late, the predators and other nuisances all agitated by the movement of the large herds that the dwindling grazing required. As he turned quickly trying to spot the sense of movement and blurring just to the side of him, Olin realized the night had gone silent. That was when he noticed the red and blue spots spreading on his pants. A vague memory passed over him, the thought touching his mind like spiderwebs before the colours began to swirl and swirl.
Soon a wave of paint washed over the hillside, a purple and bright crimson torrent and just before it hit him, Olin jolted awake to find himself safe in his bed.
What in the Light was that? I've always had vivid dreams before, but nothing like this, Olin thought to himself as he sat on his bed and calmed his breathing.