Sylvia found herself among the dark moss of the Nyberg woods. On the familiar lilac blanket lay her beautiful Rebecca. Her long brown hair was splayed across the fabric. Soft light danced through the silverwood leaves above, reflecting in her emerald eyes. Her chest heaved, and she sighed in delight. Her rosy lips parted, whispering sweet affection. Sylvia leaned down to hear. Rebecca’s lips curved into a smile. Strong arms wrapped around Sylvia’s naked waist, holding her tight. Nestling her nose into the familiar crook of Rebecca's neck, Sylvia inhaled the perfume of fresh moss and silverwood, and the hint of horse and leather, which always lingered on Rebecca's skin. Reaching up, Sylvia stroked a hand over the soft cheeks. Rebecca was all flustered and warm. Brushing the brown hair back, and hooking it behind Rebecca’s ear, Sylvia could feel her soul stir in her chest, striving down toward her beloved.

“Do not forget to visit me. I miss you so”, Rebecca requested. The sound of her voice echoed amongst the trees like it lived there.

Sylvia nodded in agreement. “I will. And then we meet here under the silverwood tree.” Chuckling, she added, “Just to talk, of course.”

Rebecca did not laugh. Instead, Sylvia’s words were met with a smile so soft and tender, it almost broke her heart.

“What is the matter?”, Sylvia asked.

Rebecca shook her head. “Nothing, Love. Nothing at all. Now that you are here, it is all good.” She let her gaze run across Sylvia’s naked form. Her hands caressed along the tawny skin. “You look healthy.”

“I have been alright.”

A calm exhale left Rebecca. She suddenly seemed very tired. The beautiful green eyes closed. Deprived of their enchantment, Sylvia let her eyes wander slowly down over the naked body of her lover. It was first then that she saw the awkward angle of Rebecca's left leg. Startled, Sylvia made to sit up, but she found herself caught in Rebecca’s strong embrace. Frowning at the calm smile of her beloved, she also noticed the wide scar running across her pale throat.

“Rebecca?”, Sylvia asked.

She got no response.

Rebecca lay completely still, like she had turned into stone. Reaching out, Sylvia retraced the thick scar, the uneven line drawn by blade. It felt warm and wet under her fingers, almost sticky. Lifting her hand, Sylvia saw red, and screamed.

Sylvia sat up with a start. She was sweating and breathing hard. Looking around wildly, she found only Afi in the tent. He was lying still in his bedroll. He was looking at her, the firm eyes searching her face.

“Are you alright?”

Sylvia swallowed hard. Scrambling out of her bedroll, she noticed her fingers were trembling. Lifting her right hand to her face, she looked, sniffed, but there was nothing. It was just her own skin, and a hint of dirt. She rubbed her thumb over the rest of her fingers, still feeling the sticky warmth of blood lingering between them. Getting up, she hurried out of the tent and found a water barrel to wash the feeling away. It almost worked. She splashed water onto her hands, rubbed them together, dried them on her trousers, and then inspected them again. She repeated the procedure three more times, before she was entirely convinced that there was nothing, absolutely nothing on her hands.

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“Sylvia?”, Afi wondered.

Sighing, Sylvia looked down into the barrel. All she saw reflected in the water was her own countenance, and the dark sky above. Looking up instead, she found the vast black dotted with a myriad of bright stars. The sky was no different here than it was anywhere else. Nothing had changed. It was just a dream. She exhaled hard.

“Sylvia? Are you alright?”, Afi tried again.

Sylvia turned around. Afi was standing in the middle of the Fri camp, wearing only trousers and a worried frown.

“I will be”, Sylvia nodded.

“Are you sure?”, Afi insisted.

Sighing again, Sylvia shook her head. “How can I be? I just have to hope that I will be”, she admitted.

“Is there anything I can do?”, Afi asked softly. He took a step forward, lifting one hand toward her, before catching himself, and letting his arm fall to his side again.

Sylvia held her hands out to him instead. Presenting her palms, she asked, “Can you see or smell anything different?”

Afi took her left hand and inspected it. Looking at it closely, he scrutinized every finger, the palm, and the back of her hand. Then, he brought it up to his face and inhaled deeply. He let go and shook his head. “No. What am I supposed to see?”

“Nothing”, Sylvia said quickly.

The frown did not leave Afi’s face. If at all possible, it deepened even further. “Maybe you need a bite to eat? Or a drink? Something to soothe the mind?”, he suggested.

“Drinking does not soothe the mind. It only agitates me further”, Sylvia said.

“What does soothe you then?”, Afi asked.

Closing the distance between them, Sylvia leaned against him. Her arms wrapped around his mid. She held onto him tightly, but avoided his injured arm. She could feel the way he started, how his entire body tensed in surprise, before he wrapped his free arm around her in turn. Slowly, the tension eased out of him. His firm hand rubbed over Sylvia's back, soothing her mind and her soul. She relaxed in his embrace. Eyes closed, she hid her face against his chest. The hair growing thick across his body tickled her cheeks. Drawing one hand from behind his back, Sylvia ran her fingers up his safe, strong body, settling them over his stomach. He was breathing slow. Turning her head, she could hear the beating of his heart. She stilled completely, standing and listening for a long while. She could swear her own body followed his lead, her breathing deepening and slowing, her heart beating in time with his.

Afi moved his hand up to rest on Sylvia's head. Looking up, she met his eyes. They were wide in confusion. “Sorry”, Sylvia murmured, stepping away from him.

Afi shook his head. “I do not mind.” Placing his hand on her arm instead, he looked her over one more time. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little.”

“Then please try to sleep some more.”

“Yea”, Sylvia agreed. “I suppose I should.”

They returned to the tent and lay back down, but Sylvia did not manage to catch any more sleep. Her mind was wandering. She stared at the roof of the tent, following the memories floating over the brown linen like clouds. She did not often dream, and when she did, it was usually incoherent and dim. So why would she dream about Rebecca? She could not remember ever having had a dream quite so vivid, so tactile. Sighing, she turned onto her side. Afi lay in the opposite side of the tent, sleeping peacefully. Electing to wait until he had had some rest, Sylvia closed her eyes.