When he returned to town, he found Adam waiting for him. The shopkeeper was slightly irate with him for having left the cart there, but he was eventually mollified and Clay took the wagon back home. There, Will and the others made a few comments about the amount of time it had taken, but other than that, it was just another day of work around the farm.
As night fell, he hid his equipment inside the barn and waited for his siblings to go to bed. They wouldn’t be that hard to slip past, but it would still be better to limit the number of eyes.
Sam was exhausted this time, so instead of staying up again, he and Amelia said their good nights around the same time as the kids. Clay stayed up a while longer, finishing a late-night snack. Then he went out to the barn, recovered his gear, and made his way south.
This time, he carried a few rags that Adam had handed over. The merchant had been a bit mystified as to the request—something that seemed to bother him more and more as the days went on—but at least he had the material ready. Clay had borrowed a tinderbox from his father as well. He hoped he could return it before Sam noticed it was missing the following morning.
Once again, it took some time for him to make his way south. The moon had already risen in the sky, and a cool breeze was blowing as he ducked under the branches of the Sarlwood. Clay had seen riders further to the west, but there was no sign that they had noticed him.
He headed in the direction where the Undead had been resting, hoping to run across a group of them isolated from the others. It was only a short time before he got his wish.
Clay heard them before he saw them. There were at least four of them pushing through the undergrowth, making the kind of noise that would have buried them in troll spiders if they had dared attack the Tanglewood. He trailed them for a while, making sure to stay out of their sight.
Then he peeled away, putting a short distance between him and the enemy. It took a few moments to build a small ring of stones, and to set a medium-sized stick into the middle of it. He wrapped one of the rags around the top of it and then began to work the tinderbox.
A moment later, the improvised torch burned. Clay made sure a gust of wind would not put it out, and then ran into the forest a short distance, parallel to the path the Undead were taking. With any fortune, he’d end up slightly behind them by the time they saw the torch. If he was right about how they saw things…
He heard the moans a few moments later, and the sounds of a group of monsters crashing their way through the Sarlwood reached his ears. Clay grinned, and then cut back to the northeast, hoping that he’d planned things out well enough.
A moment later, he saw exactly what he’d wanted to see. There were two corporals making their slow way through the Sarlwood after their levies. The Undead leaders had sent their minions on ahead, obviously wanting to hunt down and destroy whatever that source of heat had been. Which meant all he had to do was to strike at them now, while they were unprotected and alone.
Clay moved to attack and then paused. That creeping sensation of dread hadn’t appeared yet, but he had a feeling that as soon as they noticed him, it would come back. He took another moment to grab hold of his spear, and then he breathed out slowly. One corporal stepped closer, within a few long strides’ distance, and it was time.
He struck.
The corporal had just started to turn towards him when Clay’s spearpoint rammed into its neck. Clay shouted in fury as he felt its gaze sweep over him; the chill of fear suddenly returned, at least until the corporal stumbled backward and fell. He grabbed the axe from his belt loop, and just as if he was killing a mantrap spiderling, he hacked down at it in a desperate rage, hitting it again and again as it tried to struggle with him.
It fought for a few terrible moments, while he was busy reducing its head to ruin. He heard the other one give a groaning cough, heard it swing towards him. Fear stabbed through him as the second corporal turned a terrible gaze on him, but he continued hacking until finally, the corporal went still. Notifications flooded the edges of his vision.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
Clay yanked his weapons free of the dead monster and rolled away. He heard more corpses crashing into the underbrush, but he ignored them for the moment. If killing the corporal killed the levies, then all he had to do was kill one more, and he’d be safe. Or at least as safe as he was going to get lately.
His heart was still hammering in his chest as he came to his feet, and he was covered in a cold sweat. The corporal had lowered its polearm to point the spear at his chest, and it charged with sudden ferocity. Clay watched it come and jerked to the side as it stabbed at him. He brought his own spear up and stepped forward, letting the thing’s momentum carry it onto his spearpoint. The boar spear buried itself up to the crossguard in the gambeson over its chest; Clay thought he heard a rib crack underneath.
The wound would have killed a person, but the corporal just writhed and tried to hit him with the axehead of the polearm. Clay was too far inside, however, and the wooden haft just bounced from his shoulder. He shoved the corporal back, wrenching the speartip back and forth. The monster stumbled backward until its foot caught on something; then it was falling onto its back, its rotten mouth open in another rattling moan.
Clay put a foot on the thing’s chest and pulled the boar spear free. The corporal dropped its weapon and reached up with both hands; he could feel the cold grasp of its fingers as it locked its grip on his knee. He ignored the feeling and yelled again, bringing the spear up over his head, and then stabbing it straight down into the bridge of the corporal’s nose.
There was a brutal crunch, and the moan cut off. The notifications arrived a moment later, even as the grip on his leg loosened and fell away.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Valor increases by 2! Insight increases by 1!}
Clay freed his spear with another yank and turned towards where the levies had been approaching. He heard nothing from there now; no moans, no crashing sounds, just the distant crackle of the torch he’d set into the ground.
He set the butt of his spear on the ground and leaned on it, breathing hard. The fear that had stabbed at him was gone, more or less proving that it was some spell or ability the corporals could use. Fortunately, killing the corporals ended it, just as it appeared to kill the levies attached to them. No wonder the manual had recommended killing them at all costs.
Could he keep hunting? He hadn’t been wounded, and technically, he hadn’t been out in the woods for very long either. His leg was not hurting nearly as much, and if he could continue taking them by surprise…
He heard shouting in the distance, and he turned to the west. Hadn’t that been where the baron’s patrol had ridden? Clay took a step in that direction, then another. If the baron’s men were fighting, Herbert was probably right in the middle of it. Lord Pellsglade too, probably. What would happen if the baron fell against the Undead? Would the King simply send a new one, a distant relative who had no reason to care about the town? How long would the village go unprotected in the meantime?
Those questions made the decision for him. Clay took one last deep breath and started through the forest. He had more Undead to hunt.
Clay found the next group of Undead staggering through the woods on their own, this time with a single corporal guiding them. He tracked them for a moment longer, then set another torch lure for them. When the levies tore off after the heat, he stole up behind the corporal and stabbed it through the knee with his spear. It fell, and he put the spear through its head.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
Just as he’d expected, damage to the head seemed to finish things quicker, and they couldn’t channel their fear ability if he was behind them. Good to know, especially if he continued to ambush them.
Leaving the bodies where they lay, he continued off to the west, where he could still hear some shouting. As he drew closer, the clang of weapons rose over the shouts and moans. Someone was still alive, still fighting. He had to help them!
Clay poured on a little more speed, and suddenly the flickering light of torches came into view. He slowed a little, trying to remain hidden, even as the details of the battle came into view.
The baron was on horseback with a handful of his men. They were ringed by Undead levies, monsters that moaned and thrashed. As the [Guards] tried to hold them back, the levies threw themselves at the small group, flailing with their weapons, grasping with their hands, even biting at the men when all else failed. When a levy fell, it stayed down for a handful of moments. Then it stood, its corpse reanimated, to join the fight once more. At least two of the [Guards] were down, though he couldn’t tell who. There was too much confusion and shouting.
What drew Clay’s attention more, however, was the corporal standing back from the conflict, watching the melee below them. Where it looked, the [Guards] fell back in fear, letting the levies pounce more freely. The baron was shouting for his men to give him an opening, and the sword in his hands flashed as he fought, but Lord Pellsglade had no chance to get past the levies surrounding him.
Clay hefted his axe. The spear was good, but it would be too slow, perhaps. He could already see other corporals around the edges of the fight, and he’d need to down at least two or three of them for the baron to escape.
Moving quickly and quietly, he came up behind the corporal. It had just enough time to turn its head slightly before he struck it in the back of the neck. The thing dropped to its knees, and he hit it again, knocking it to the ground. His third strike took the corporal’s head clean off.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
As the head bounced through the brush, he caught sight of an entire group of levies collapsing at the feet of the [Guards]. There were shouts of relief as the baron’s men pressed the horde of Undead back, but Clay didn’t stick around to watch. He moved further around the edge of the battle, to where he had seen another figure hiding.
This time, he approached with both axe and spear. He swept in low, taking the Undead’s leg out from under it with the axe. It fell onto its back, turning its gaze on him. His breath froze for an instant, allowing it to take an aborted swing at him.
Clay danced back from the blow, then lunged with the spear. The point took it high in the chest, shoving it back down. A second thrust finished it, freeing him from its gaze.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
He heard more triumphant shouts as more of the things below collapsed. With a half-feral grin, he pressed forward, his heart beating in his chest. There was another corporal hiding in the bushes further on, only this time, the thing had seen him coming. Fear stabbed into him, freezing him for a moment as he watched it scramble backward, trying to bring its polearm up. Some of the levies started to turn around as well, abandoning the fight to come back and stop him. Clay heard some of the [Guards] shout that the things were running, but he shoved both that and the paralyzing fear aside as he charged in one more time.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
As he closed, he hefted his boar spear as if it was a javelin, and hurled it straight for the thing’s chest. The spear hit it square in the torso, and the impact staggered it for a moment. Before it could recover, he had ducked in past the point of its polearm. He buried his axe in its shoulder, and as it staggered, he hit it again across the face. It fell, and he finished it just as the first levy came crashing through the brush toward him, a pitchfork ready to spear him.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
The approaching levy dropped like a player’s marionette whose strings had been cut. Its companions went down just as quickly, and suddenly the baron’s men were no longer surrounded. Still outnumbered and assaulted, but they could escape now.
Clay half expected them to do it, returning to the safety of the open ground. To his surprise, Lord Pellsglade backed up only just enough to charge, riding his horse straight through two of the levies. The baron reached out a hand, and an arrow of lightning leapt from his fingertips. Moans rose from the opposite side of the woods; a flaming figure staggered and dropped, followed by more levies. By the time Clay had blinked the shadows from his eyes, the baron was already riding down another corporal, his sword flashing, held aloft. Clearly, the battle had turned in Pellsglade’s favor.
It suddenly occurred to Clay that he was still standing in the forest, where the baron was likely to look for more corporals. Even if he didn’t ride Clay down in the dark, the baron would have plenty of questions for him—questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer. Even as the sword flashed again, Clay turned and ran for the safety of the forest. The sounds of the battle followed him until long after he’d retreated.
He reached home a short time later. There had been a temptation to stay in the Sarlwood and continue the hunt, but the risk had been too much. Not necessarily from the Undead; he was sure that Lord Pellsglade and his men would have been combing the woods for him as much as for the monsters, and unlike the Undead, he wasn’t going to be able to ambush and kill the baron or his men. Better to withdraw and return later.
The barn was waiting for him, and he slumped against the front door, fairly exhausted. His travel through the Sarlwood had been brief, but it had been productive. Six Undead corporals killed, and the baron rescued. Not a poor result for the night, not at all.
As he went over to the ladder for the barn loft, he heard someone clear their throat. Clay froze. Then he hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
Sam stepped out of the shadows where he’d been standing. His father was staring at him, his eyes tired. “Clay, what were you doing? Why weren’t you here?”
He searched for an answer and then sighed. “I was going out to check on some things, Dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“Fathers worry, son. That’s how it works.” Sam tilted his head to one side. “Of course, fathers also know a bit more than you expect, sometimes. What did you need to check on with a spear and an axe?”
The question was sharper this time. Clay stiffened slightly. “I—I just…”
Sam held him in place with a hard stare. Then he sighed and turned his head. “You went looking for trouble, didn’t you? You probably could have reached the Sarlwood and come back. Maybe even reached it unseen. I taught you well enough, after all.”
Clay grimaced and looked away as well. “I…guess you did.”
There was a moment of quiet. Then Sam laughed, bringing Clay’s head back around. His father’s laughter dwindled to a tired chuckle, and Sam shook his head. “You wanted to go take a look, right? Maybe see if you could help the baron?”
“Y-yeah, I did…” First Olivia, and now his father. Had he really been so obvious about everything? “I just—”
Sam waved away his attempt at an explanation. “I understand, son. You’ve never had to deal with such things, and your entire life, you’ve heard stories about monsters and adventurers. You must have kept your dreams of being out there with your friends, defeating those kinds of abominations.” His father leaned forward slightly. “But what you’re doing is dangerous. What if you had actually found one of those things before the baron did? Who would have explained what happened to your mother?”
For a moment, Clay wondered what was happening. Then realization dawned. His father believed he had gone to the Sarlwood, but not that he’d even managed to see a monster, let alone kill some of them. He still didn’t know exactly what Clay had been up to, which meant…
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll try to be more careful from now on.”
“Good. I want you to be a better example to your brothers and sisters.” Sam sighed. “No more going off to Sarlwood trying to have an adventure all your own. A boar spear and some arrows aren’t enough for fighting the Undead. You need real power, like what the baron can do.”
If only his father knew. “Of course, Dad.” He tried to look suitably humbled. “I will try not to disappoint you.”
“Good.” His father heaved a sigh and then headed for the door to the barn. “I think Will and I will take the cart into town tomorrow. I’ll need you to cover our chores while we are gone.”
The implied message and punishment were clear enough, but Clay forced himself to nod. “I will.”
Sam reached out and took him by the shoulder. Then, suddenly, he caught him up in a hug. Clay responded in kind, careful not to squeeze too tightly. “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
His father left, shutting the door behind him. Clay waited a moment longer before breathing one last sigh and heading up to the barn’s loft. He needed the rest, tonight even more than usual.
Clay looked up as he heard the cart rumble along the dirt road from town. His father and Will had left for Pellsglade a few hours before, and he’d spent the time since they left making sure the animals were well taken care of. The stables had required cleaning out, and he was still half covered in the smelly debris of that task when he heard the cart pull off the road.
“Clay! Clay! Guess what?” Will leaped off the cart and came running. “The baron won a victory against the Undead! They’re saying that the threat is over now, and that we don’t need to worry anymore. We’re safe!”
“Really? That’s great!” Clay felt a stab of resentment for a moment, but he tried to remind himself that if the baron got the credit, nobody would be looking for him. Given the situation, this result was probably the best one.
“I know, right? The baron’s the best! He cut those Undead apart like they were nothing.” Will hurried off, already finding a small stick to swish back and forth like he was wielding the baron’s own sword, complete with roaring fire noises. Clay watched him go, smiling a little. Then he saw Sam coming and paused.
“Good news in town?”
“Very good news. Turns out we were worried for nothing. The baron took care of everything.” Clay didn’t miss the emphasis on the last phrase; he heaved an obvious sigh, and Sam grinned at him. His father turned away to head back to his own chores, and Clay went back to his. He hoped the news meant that his parents would be fine with him returning to his own farmhouse soon. It would make things so much easier.
It took another couple of hours’ work on the farm, but he finally talked his way out of staying with his parents another night. Sam and Amelia waved goodbye, while his siblings pestered each other in the field. He waved back, and then traveled along the road leading east.
He stuck to that path until the farm was long out of sight. Then he turned and struck south, moving along the paths that would lead him to the Sarlwood. He had no doubt that the baron had finished with most of the Undead the night before, but there had been too many hiding in that cave. If even one group had withdrawn, they might be a problem in the future. Worse, they might have come in the first place as some sort of scouts for the Dungeon near Sarlsboro.
If that was the case, it would be best if he left none of them alive—and he knew where they were hiding.
Clay found a hollow log near the edge of the forest and stuffed part of the belongings he’d carried from his family’s house into it. He could come back for them once the work was finished. When he was done, he only had his spear, bow, sling, and axe. Well, he also carried the small bundle of rags that Adam had given him the day before; he’d only used a handful of them the night before. He had another plan for them today.
It was easy to pick up the trail the Undead had left behind. Despite the mess made by the baron’s men as they hunted the monsters, the traces were still clear enough. He already suspected where they would lead, but he needed to be certain.
Sure enough, he found himself back in the same clearing. Once again, the place was littered with corpses, but there were far fewer now. The baron had obviously been just as effective as Clay had expected, and just as clearly, hadn’t quite tracked down all of the Undead. He guessed that there were five, maybe six, corporals left, judging by the number of levies that they had left on the ground. It was still plenty for a single person to fight, but not nearly as bad as it had been before.
Besides, this time he had a better idea of how to prepare for them.
Clay spent the next few minutes gathering wood. He used his axe to sharpen some of them into a series of stakes, while the others he wrapped with rags. Then he stepped forward into the clearing and began to work on the next part of his plan.
He bent over each of the Undead levies and hammered a stake through their torso. It was grim, gruesome work, but he stayed at it until every single one of them had been pinned to the ground. Clay gathered their weapons up and set them to the side for good measure. If they were going to wake up, he wanted them to be disarmed, at least.
With the clearing prepared, Clay turned to the cave. He prepared a small circle of stones in front of it and then piled some of the wood on top. A few minutes later, he’d started up a small fire. He gathered a handful of torches together and lit them from the blaze. Then, spear in hand, he went forward into the cave.
Just as before, there was no sign of the corporals before the bend in the cave. He approached that curve and paused, hoping to steady his breathing. Clay needed to be prepared when the fear hit him; he could not afford to freeze up at the last moment.
Then he charged, his teeth gritted against the inevitable wave of terror he’d face.
The corporals were there, just as before. He could see their withered, eyeless features in the torchlight, and fear blasted through him as they immediately looked in his direction. His steps faltered for a moment, but he reacted on instinct, throwing the torches ahead and to one side, even as he brought his other hand back to the spear haft.
Clay felt the fear inside him lessen slightly as the corporals turned to follow the torches. Their polearms shifted as well, moving away from where they had been pointed at his heart. It wasn’t a long distraction, but it was enough. He plunged ahead, rushing inside the reach of the first corporal. The thing had just started to turn back to him when he thrust the spear up and into its eyeless face.
There was a crack as the spearpoint punched through the eyeless skull.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
He grinned in triumph and then shoved the dead monster in the direction of its friends. As it crumpled into them, Clay pushed aside a swing from another corporal. The wooden haft of his spear met the polearm with a sharp clack, and then he pulled back enough for another thrust that caught the corporal where its heart should have been. It fell back, and a third one stepped forward, the spear on its weapon seeking his heart.
Clay’s back was to the scattered torches, however, and its aim was off. The polearm glanced off his shoulder, barely scratching him, and Clay stepped in and swung his spear in a flat arc. It took the corporal in the knees, knocking it to the stony floor. He was on it before it could recover, his spear stabbing down through the skull again.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
Clay heard boots behind him, and knew it was time to run. He twisted aside to dodge another thrust, and then ran for the exit. The boots of the surviving corporals stomped after him, and their shadows danced against the backlight of the torches as they followed.
He ran around the bend in the cave, and out past the fire still burning at the entrance. All around him, the levies were struggling to rise. At least, most of them were; some now lay permanently still, their masters slain.
When he turned back to the cave, he found the corporals rounding the bend in the cave. They turned to the opening, their polearms ready to strike—and paused, their vision clouded by the heat of the fire and the noonday sun. Clay smiled and unlimbered his bow. With the cave lit by both the fire and the torches, the corporals were an easy shot.
His first arrow hit the corporal with the damaged gambeson, probably the same one he had stabbed in the cave. It punched the head back as if he’d kicked it in its eyeless face. The feathers on the broadhead shaft brushed the top of the cave for a moment, and then the Undead collapsed.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
The remaining three corporals charged. Their boots pounded the ground. Clay judged their speed and decided against another bowshot. He only really needed to discourage them from hiding in the cave until their minions stood up; if they wanted to come out and fight in the sun, that was fine by him.
He set aside his bow and took up his spear, backing up to give them space to leave the cave mouth. They exited the opening at a full sprint; one of them even put their feet directly into the fire as they left, scattering firewood and embers across the clearing.
When they fully cleared the cave, however, they flinched, their polearms turning upward. Clay lunged in again, this time ducking under their weapons. He came up and made the same kind of stab, straight up through the jaw and skull of the nearest of them.
{Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Achievement Unlocked! Corpsebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 10% versus Rotted Levies and Wretched Corporals.}
More levies abruptly fell still, and as he fended off the frantic swings of the Undead corporals, Clay felt a sudden deep sense of satisfaction. He could already feel a lessening of the fear their gazes caused him, and his movements seemed that much quicker compared to theirs. Ten percent might not have seemed like much, but it certainly made a difference.
When one of the corporals tripped over the now-still body of a levy, Clay was on it before it could recover. He knocked it down with a swing of his spear, then dodged its companion’s stab and finished it while it was on the ground.
{Wretched Corporal slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
The last corporal tried another few swings, trying to force Clay back. He thought he saw an expression of fear on its face.
Then a levy still pinned to the ground latched onto his ankle, and Clay felt a burst of horrified surprise. The corporal launched itself forward with a triumphant moan, its features twisting in sudden cruel delight.
The expression changed a short second later as Clay hurled his spear into it. He caught it in the left hip; he heard bone snap, and the corporal’s charge became a headlong tumble. As it tumbled to the ground, Clay drew his axe and chopped down to sever the levy’s hand. Then he stepped over and began striking the corporal. It went still after the second hit.
{Wretched Corporal slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
{Rotted Levy slain!}
Clay fell back on his butt, gasping for breath. The clearing around him went suddenly still; none of the corpses were moving anymore. Between that fact and the lack of corporals, he felt like he could breathe freely again.
Unfortunately, the surrounding air filled with the stench of rotting corpses. Now that he was free of the rush of combat, the sheer stink of the decaying Undead was oppressive. He sucked in a breath that was a little too deep and nearly heaved up his breakfast.
With that pleasant end to the adventure, Clay gathered up his weapons and tools, scattered what was left of the fire to make sure he didn’t burn down half the Sarlwood, and then made his way back along the path to where he had stashed his belongings. Stench or not, he would rest easy knowing the Undead at least would not be a problem. The Tanglewood would already be enough to deal with on its own.
Clay reached the old farmhouse a while later.
It looked like the previous few days of abandonment had not really changed the place. It was still dilapidated, but something about the freedom and independence it represented seemed…liberating to him. At the very least, he was going to be able to leave and fight when he needed to.
At the same time, the fields weren’t exactly looking well-cared for. His injury had made it hard to handle the chores to begin with, and his absence had only made the situation worse. Unless he wanted to trudge through sablethorn on his way to the outhouse, he was going to need to spend some time cleaning things up.
He sighed and trudged his way up to the door. At the very least, he had a good handle on things in the Tanglewood. There wouldn’t be many surprises waiting for him there, or at least no risk of discovery from the baron. True, he’d have to spend a few days working on the fields, but that would just help him increase his [Stats] a little, and then he could go back to hunting spiders.
That prospect made him grin a little before he went to sleep. He’d freed the Sarlwood from Undead, for now. Hopefully, he could do the same for the Tanglewood someday. It was a dream that made his rest more pleasant, for that night at least.