It's warm, and so comfortable. So warm.

The softest sensation I've ever felt, I just don't want to open my eyes or ever wake back up. The warmth surrounding me and slowly.... creeping in?

But that doesn't make sense at all, I must still be drea-

It's wet, soaking through my clothes and gripping onto my skin. Viscous.

And I'm suddenly bolt upright, this isn't my bed and I don't recognize this mattress I'm on. I want to scream. A horrible guttural noise echoes through the small room as I look down at my body. Not an inch that isn't dyed red. I'm so focused on the blood that I almost miss the smoke filling the air, flames picking the ceiling. Almost. That noise is harrowing, almost like a choked and wracking sob.

Something by my leg, I almost miss it as my hand brushes the thick sheets off... somebody next to me? Can I wake him up, we have to get out of here in time. I don't even know ho- my thoughts are cut off for a second as I take the second to observe and I'm finally comprehending what's beside me. Two dark pits of spiraling shadow, the flames rapidly coming up the bed doing nothing to illuminate them, dragging my attention in. Strips of sinew and gristle for a throat, ripped and sawn through by something barely manage to hang down what's left of its windpipe. That noise hasn't stopped getting louder. It's pitch rising and falling between extremes constantly, manic and shrieking.

I can't take it, It's close enough to burn now and my wretchedly hoarse throat refuses to even let me scream. And as my eyes melt I finally learn the origin of that vile noise that had been with me from the start, and why screaming was so impossible. 

---

The wooden beam splintered and gave a loud crack but refused to crumple, holding firm and keeping the practice sword engulfed in itd embrace. Overextended and I didn't strike with the true edge, I need to do better. I wrapped a hand around the pommel and grabbed the hill with the other, knuckles white with effort, clenched as hard as I could. I need to be better. Wrenching it free I stepped back and raised it to my shoulder poised to thrust. The tip waving ever so slightly in the air and I dared my eyes to follow along the blade and back to myself. Trembling. They've been shaking ever since I woke up 5 hours ago, calm yourself. Be calm. 

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I need to throw myself back into practice, it's not enough yet. My body began going through the motion again, little concious thought guiding its actions and I swung and swung and swung. I'd stopped bothering with bringing new targets hours ago, stopped counting swings, stopped counting time.... hours ago? I wasn't quite sure, and I'd finally come out of my stupor just to see that night was almost close. Had nobody come to find me, I suppose that was a good thing I thought as I waved my hand in front of my face and inspected it. Slow, exhausted to the point of clumsiness,  but steady. I'm happy with that, I need to drag myself from here but there's a small question first.  Food? Or to slee-

My tired feet dragged me through the small open courtyard and eventually through its gate,  a usually short walk taking me three times longer than usual. And I found myself wandering to the dining hall as if by compulsion. Legs weighing a half tonne each but pushing me onwards. Would it be better to go straight to the kitchen? No. Everybody should still be up at this hour, a late family dinner beats none. What little light remained streamed through the windows in long patches ahead of me, sparkling off the glass and speckling my the rough worn leather I'd not yet changed out of. Taking in the beauty for a second I turned to windows and leaned out of it to admire the view, hands grasping the sill. Staring at the horizon I can't help but find it beautiful, I could walk this hall forever, it's a beautiful warm red this time of night. I looked down as I left , just in time to see a handprint, sticky crimson and peeling from m-

How could I have forgotten to get changed, that's sloppy and unbecoming. I rushed straight from my bed to training this morning but that's still no excuse, what will Father think If I turn up like this. My hand hovered before the dining room door, showing me its reluctance to knock,  even if father probably wouldn't mind. Probably? that sounds right.

My knuckles rapped against the door, in a tight and loud pattern. I straightened my back, puffed put my chest and laid an arm across my stomach waiting at attention. Awaiting the outcome. I'd not be punished, but I still need to try and look respectable. 

The door opened for me and I stepped forward.