When Serakha opened her eyes, the dream still clung to her. She didn't gasp or sit up. She blinked just once, gazing at the low, gray morning as sleet pitter-patter on her hood. The fire was out again. Lucian faced away from her, one hand pressed against the hilt of his sword. Kael was awake as well, holding a strip of cloth in his hands and sitting quietly. He was attempting to rewrap his wound without assistance.
"You should've woke me," she said.
Lucian glanced back. "Didn't need to. You were dreaming."
She frowned. "How do you know?"
"You were saying something quietly." He paused. "Didn't sound like any words I know."
She sat up slowly and rubbed the back of her neck. "I wasn't speaking."
"Then something was."
Kael tied off the bandage. "Did it call you again?"
She hesitated. "Not by name. But… yes."
Lucian looked at the sky. It had turned pale, the color of old bones. "We should move. The ridge won't be nice when the wind comes up."
