And she was beginning to suspect she was not dreaming.
They paused briefly for a meal, then continued on. Morgan couldn't decide if the pace was too swift, or if it chafed. What she did know was that she could not bear for night to come.
But it came anyway. There was no inn, no deserted outbuildings for them to borrow, only the sky above with its bitter stars shining coldly down upon them. Morgan volunteered for the first watch. She was more than happy to stand in the shadows and try to become invisible.
It did not help.
She heard Gair's words in her head, over and over again until she was quite sure she could have repeated them effortlessly. She heard Sarait's spell of un-noticing, the one she had used a handful of times already.
Then she heard other words. It seemed that they came from other dreams that she could not quite remember. But the words were good ones and she wished they had been hers to use. She wondered if the words might have belonged to Sarait.
She was certain they were not Gair's.
It was well into the next watch when she realized she was not alone. She turned to slip back into the shadows only to find Miach not ten paces from her, leaning against a tree, watching her. She would have squeaked in surprise, but she never squeaked.
"How long have you been there?" she demanded.
"About an hour."
"I was concentrating," she lied.
He grunted, pushed off from the tree and took her by the arm. "Come back to camp."
She dug her heels in and gave him no choice but to stop. She looked up at him seriously. "I cannot."
"Morgan, you cannot remain awake for the rest of your life. You must sleep."
"I daren't," she said.
"Then perhaps a pinch of herb in wine to help you along?"
She scowled. "Don't tell me you use those for the pigs as well. "
"You would be surprised," he said dryly. "It would help you, I think."
"Miach, I don't think anything will help me sleep."
"You haven't tasted my brew."
"If it contains magic spell, then no matter how lovely your pigs might find it, I will not enjoy it."
He smiled. "I should suggest a run, but I fear tonight you would soon leave me far behind."
"You are not fully yourself yet," she agreed.
He took her hand in both of his. Morgan suspected she should have pulled away, but it was so comforting she just couldn't bring herself to. It was something Nicholas would have done.
But Miach was not Nicholas.
Not at all.
"I could tell you a tale about something," Miach offered, rubbing her hand absently. "If you like."
She frowned thoughtfully. "What sort of something?"
"Something soothing," he promised. "I'm sure there would be swords involved. Bloodshed. Peril. That kind of thing."
"Romance?" she asked skeptically.
