Sabine Reisender smothers her son in kisses. "You will be careful!" she insists. "And do not waste the money your father has entrusted to you on drinks and wild living!" All twenty shekels of it. "Oh, my boy is leaving, Dimitris!"

Dimitris takes Sabine's hand, and gently and ever-so-subtly pries her away from Alptraum. "He'll be fine, Sabine," he says to her. "He is not a stranger to the wilds or the roads. It will do him good."

Meanwhile, Autumn-Storm stands quietly – as ever – off to the side, doing her best to be inconspicuous – as inconspicuous as a golden spotted cat could be amongst the others, that is. Sheriff Darken, the only one from Blackshire here at the camp at the moment, occasionally gives her studying looks, as if daring her to try one last act of theft before leaving the county.

"Father's right, Daia," Alptraum says, giving his mother a hug in return. As he lets go, he says, "You're both taught me well on how to travel safely. And of course I won't waste the money. It'll need to last until I can find work along the way to replenish it." He steps back and looks at the Sheriff, then at his two adoptive parents, saying, "Plus, I think you might find the … officials a bit more pleasant without me around. The tribe needs to settle for the winter and me being around makes at least one person uncomfortable."

Hexen steps up. "Don't be gone too long, Traum. I need someone to blame when I get into trouble!" He winks raucously.

The Eeee laughs. "Oh, I shouldn't be gone that long. I have to finish getting you and Katka together, after all," he replies, grinning. "Or, you could surprise me and beat me to it."

Hexen looks around, his ears blushing … and notices that Nineve isn't present. He lets out a sigh of relief. "Hey, not so loud about that… "

"I've got to get you in trouble when I can," the Eeee replies with a wink.

Hexen rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and trying to give me a good extra helping before you take off! Your generosity astounds me!" He pats Alptraum on the shoulder (since the back would be awkward, what with the wings).

"But of course," Traum replies with a fangy smirk. The Eeee then turns to his father. "Now, I don't want you straining yourself while I'm gone. You're not so young anymore and I'd like you to be here when I get back. Daia, please make sure he doesn't hurt himself. If you need help, I'm sure Hexen would help out," he says with a quick grin toward his vulpine friend.

Hexen puts on a put-upon look, but he gives it up for a lopsided grin. "You can count on it," he promises.

Dimitris laughs awkwardly. "I'm not grounded just yet, my son. But for you, and for your mother, I will be careful."

Alptraum nods to Hexen, then grins at his father and says, "I didn't say you needed to be grounded, just if you're hurting that day, take it easy. You never know, with some rest, you might be able to fly even better than before." He then steps away from the group and says, "Now, if I don't get going, I'm certain you'll try and convince me to stay. I wish I could, but, if that pendant was the cause of those weird dreams, we do need to get it back. I don't like the thought of something like that being in just anyone's possession."

"A word of warning, young man, before you go," Sheriff Darken says. "Be careful of your dreams. If this man is indeed a sorcerer, and he knows he is being followed, he may use magic to cover his trail – or deal with his pursuers. Also, I am returning to your care this." He holds in his hand a pouch of coins – the same one that Alptraum got from Autumn-Storm.

Autumn-Storm's ears flick when she sees the pouch, and she looks away guiltily.

Alptraum blinks, apparently surprised by the Sheriff's concern. He accepts the pouch and nods, saying, "Thank you for your words of caution. I've not any experience with sorcerers. I do hope I shall be able to return the pendant to you, so you can return it to the Duchess as soon as possible." He glances toward Autumn-Storm and says quietly to the Sheriff, "And I will try to find a place she can live where won't cause further problems for your watch."

The sheriff nods only so slightly at this. "The pouch is not for extra spending money. It's cursed … but it's a very pathetic curse. It's part of the 'treasure' of a notoriously incompetent and blow-hard Chronotopian corsair, Klaus 'Smelly' Schmidt. Or, at least, this is all that's left of it. He haunts it now and again, especially on holidays, but though he seems very fearsome, all it takes is one touch to turn him to dust. This was a relic in Blackshire Keep, that Autumn-Storm seems to have 'liberated'. Duchess Kurai has decided that she would rather it simply be gone and put to better use elsewhere."

Through all this, the older bat maintains a business-like demeanor. If he's warming up to Alptraum at all, he gives no obvious signal of it in his expression.

"Well, that does explain the Korv we ran into that night … rather I ran into. I wish I had known that before I took the dive into the trees. Ah well, no harm done," Traum replies, nodding. "I'll try to put it to good use. In there anything special I should know about the pendant?"

"Autumn-Storm should be able to identify it for you," Sheriff Darken says with a trace of irony. "It is a strangely shaped pendant, with facets in some places, looking lumpy in others, translucent, and it sometimes glows faintly in the presence of magic. It is a piece of Sifran crystal, with some property regarding dreams."

Alptraum's eyebrow's raise and he nods. "Good to know, then. What about the roads up north? Any towns I should be wary of?" he asks.

"Up north?" Darken answers. "Toward Northern Shore, the lands are more civil. But as you get closer to Draco, be more wary. I have heard tell of villages where the townsfolk show hospitality during the day, only to waylay a traveler at night, and dump his body in the river. I know no specific towns, or I am certain their schemes would be foiled once the word had leaked out."

"Good to know, none the less," Alptraum replies. "I'll keep that in mind. In any event, I should be going. The longer I wait, the less likely it'll be that I'll recover the pendant. Be well, Sheriff Darken. Thank you for allowing the tribe to stay here."

"I am not the one to thank," Sheriff Darken says. "Duchess Eve Kurai is the one to thank, or his Lordship, Count Feli Kurai. But I bid you safe travels, on their behalf."

"So long, Traum!" "Take care!" "Don't take any wooden shekels!" "Zhu remember to be careful, like Madame Xanadu has varned zhu! KAW!" "Oh, my little kitten is flying away!" "There, there now, Sabine." Those gathered offer their farewells, each in their own way.

At first, the journey across Sylvania is relatively without incident. Sure, there was the time when there were those seedy fellows who offered some "well wishes" and "curiously" wanted to know whether Alptraum had any "bits to spare", and had that habit of picking their teeth with daggers, but that was fairly easily handled by avoiding them – Alptraum by air, Autumn-Storm by very, very fast footwork. And then, there was the time when they set up "camp" at night and had to quickly abandon their spot because of the biting insects from the nearby swamp that seemed to have especially big kin capable of taking more than just little bites of travelers. Yes, that is definitely a place not to camp near again. But no more ghosts, no more undead horrors, no more strange dreams, and Autumn-Storm hasn't tried to knife Alptraum in the back, and so far as he can tell, hasn't swiped anything from him (not that he has much to swipe at this point).

So far, the twenty shekels remain untouched. Alptraum has been able to fend for himself, finding beasts in the woods to satiate his appetite, and Autumn-Storm hers – for it seems that perhaps there is some truth to Madame Garou's claim that she was born in the wild, what with her seeming familiarity with the basics of hunting.

Along the way, Alptraum has managed to pick up a few useful signs in Savanite – just very basic ideas, not enough to strike up deep conversations. Some things are already self-evident – a shushing gesture for "Quiet!" or head nods/shakes for "Yes" or "No". But Alptraum learns that besides the obvious pantomimes and gestures, Savanite sign seems to have a multiplicity of ways to say the same thing.No wonder it's rumored to be popular among thieves.

This night is much like any other, with a campfire put together from some dry wood salvaged from the nearby woods, without any sign of a town in sight. It's past Reckoning … nine days, in fact.

Autumn-Storm takes Alptraum's hand as he sits next to the campfire, carefully adjusting one of his fingers just so, for what he presumes is the sign for "Beware". It seems to be dangerously close to the sign for "All is well", from how much correction he's gotten from Autumn-Storm on the topic. That she can't talk, however, hampers the conversing somewhat. She also, it seems, cannot write, and hasn't the best grasp of Rephidim Standard – and almost none of Sylvanian.

"Seems almost hopeless," Alptraum says, making sure to speak in Rephidim standard, albeit with a slight Sylvanian accent. "But, it's only been nine days, I suppose. And you did say he was on a Drokar, so I'm not terribly surprised we've seen no signs yet." He looks toward Autumn-Storm, studying her for a moment. "I'm glad you're along. It's not safe to travel out here alone. So, after we find the pendant, what do you think you will do?"

Autumn-Storm shrugs, releasing Alptraum's hand to lean back, propping herself up by planting both hands on the ground behind her. She shakes her head slowly, and looks out from the camp, down the road. This far from any settlements, the stars are so clear, the night especially dark, lit only by the Procession – and, of course, what meager light the campfire provides.

"Don't know?" Alptraum asks, then attempts to sign the same question. "I don't either," he admits. He sits quietly for a time, then finds himself compelled to ask, "Did I really seem to be there that night? I mean, I was there, but it's hard to explain. To me, it was if I was there in a dream. I caught your soul as it fell toward the Sea of Souls. Suddenly, I was there. What's even stranger is, I could understand you clearly. Not like now, when I can just barely sign."

Autumn-Storm bobs her head somewhere in the middle of Alptraum's stream of words, but to the rest, she just looks at him quizzically. Somewhere in the night, a raven call can be heard – a very loud one. A breeze stirs the leaves. Autumn-Storm bristles … and then rolls her eyes.

"Nervous?" The Eeee asks and glances around the terrain. Alptraum sits up and cants his ears, listening and trying to see if there is anything approaching.

Autumn-Storm leans forward, and makes two signs. If Alptraum recalls correctly, the first sign is "Fool," and the second sign is "Day." They have a curious emphasis that Alptraum associates with a proper name, rather than plain nouns.

Just then, there's a loud cry, some gibberish that Alptraum can make out as sounding very much like an undead Korv speaking in Chronotopian, and then, a shadow flits across the campsite, and alights at the edge of the clearing. He cries out some challenge in the language of the Chronotopians, and raises his rusty saber to point accusingly at Alptraum.

"Oh for the … it's that thing again," Alptraum growls and looks around for a branch or rock to throw. As he scans the area, he thinks back to the night, and how it pointed at Farmer Poe. Curious. He makes a mental note to ask about that.

The undead pirate finishes its diatribe, standing there seething for a bit … and then, with a flutter of dusty wings, it takes to the air, heads up … then, rusty blade glinting in the fire-light, it dive-bombs, charging toward Alptraum, as it lets out an unearthly caw-howl!

Autumn-Storm just sits there, covering her ears with her hands.

Alptraum curses in Sylvanian, grabbing a rock that they discarded to the side when they set up the campfire. He pushes himself back to his feet and makes a short run, then spreads his wings and tries to launch into the air.

This time, Alptraum can fly just fine. Whatever it was that kept him from flying the last time he encountered the Korv (granted, before the Korv showed up) doesn't seem to be impeding him now.

The Eeee gains altitude as quickly as he can, ears turned back to track the Korv by sound. He then tries to arc back through the air, preparing the throw the rock at the ghost.

The Korv is coming about, intent on Alptraum rather than his cheetah companion. There he is! And he's making a big wide arc – about as easy a shot as Alptraum's likely to get.

Alptraum pulls his arm back, preparing to throw. Then something hits him from what Madame Xanadu said: the ghosts here are the ones you find in the Sea of Souls. The Eeee then decides to try something risky. He comes around and dives at the Korv, wings folding back slightly. Get close, then arc up and run my hand along the ghost. Let'ssee what happens, he thinks to himself.

If there's any real danger this ghost poses, it has to be to Alptraum's eardrums, but at least it's not catching him by surprise this time. The ghost seems to be just as eager to close the distance as Alptraum, but Alptraum is by far the more agile of the two fliers, and thus has the advantage. It seems almost child's play, as they pass, for him to reach out and touch the ghost. For a brief instant, an image flashes in his mind – the smell of the brine over the Sea of Ice, the sound of fluttering mage-sails and the chant of the airship's enchantress bidding the wind to blow them along … and then, not even a heartbeat later, he's back to the present, as the ghost bursts into a cloud of dust that Alptraum flies through.

The Eeee beats his wings hard, trying to arc back up some and prevent yet another crash landing and hopefully make it back to the camp.

This time, Alptraum manages to land without any sort of disaster befalling him, none the worse for the experience, save having a bit of ghost-dust to brush off of his shirt sleeves. Autumn-Storm pulls a roasted rodent on a skewer away from the fire, and chews on the well-cooked meat absently as she regards the bat.

What, Alptraum signs to Autumn-Storm. That's one word he's picked up, thankfully. He makes his way back over to the campsite and sits down near the fire. He watches the cheetah, waiting for the reply.

Autumn-Storm, once she frees her hands, and tosses the makeshift skewer aside, signs something back, but all Alptraum can make out of it is something like, "Today Fool Day."

Alptraum nods, gathering it must be some sort of holiday. The Sheriff did warn him about the curse, after all. He shrugs and says, "Well, the Sheriff was right. It's a pretty pathetic curse." He then digs into his vest and pulls out the pouch. A moment later, he opens it and looking inside.

Inside, the luster of gold gleams back at Alptraum. A whole pouch full of gold.

Alptraum reaches into the pouch and extracts a single coin with two of his claw tips. He holds it up to show Autumn-Storm.

Autumn-Storm's eyes go wide, and she puckers her mouth like a little girl being offered candy. She claps her hands with glee, and flutters her eyelashes. If this isn't putting on an act, Alptraum doesn't know what is.

The ebon Eeee doesn't even blink. He drops the coin back into the pouch and closes it. "I'm not an idiot, Autumn-Storm," he says, voice flat. "If we're successful, you're more than welcome to some of the coins." He turns slightly and tucks the pouch away again, out of sight of the cheetah.

Autumn-Storm grins mischievously (her favorite expression, it seems, when she's not looking dour and sore with the world), and her ears wiggle vigorously.

"I'm a gypsy. We teach our children to use the same act. Works amazingly well when you're young," he replies with a smirk. "Glad I amuse," he then adds, presuming the ear-wiggle is akin to laughter.

Autumn-Storm makes quick work of the second skewer she put on the fire, then sets to the business of bedding down in a big heap of leaves, drawing a patchy blanket-cloak over herself. "Sleep happy," she signs, or something like that. Some of those signs do double duty, depending upon the context.

Alptraum watches the cheetah as she lays down for the night. "You too," he finally says and starts to wrap his wings around his body to protect the items he carries just in case she gets any ideas during the night. He pauses, then completes enveloping his form in the black leathery membranes. He lets his silvery eyes close, his thoughts drifting to the images he saw when he touched the ghost, then to the Sea of Souls and the pendant he wears. Why can he touch them and see things like that? Does that happen to anyone who touches them?

The Eeee slowly fades off to sleep, the haunting image of Madame Xanadu showed him of Sunala. Why was he found with a pendant etched with her symbol? How does she relate to him and his past?

The wind picks up, blowing against Alptraum's face, and the sounds of the rustling leaves give way to creaking timbers and strained cords. The calls of birds change to the voices of airshipmen calling out to each other, in some language Alptraum shouldn't understand, though he does – if only to recognize it as some of that jargon airshipmen use when working with each other, important only to other airshipmen. "Pull hard to starboard!" comes a Korv's loud cry. "Wouldn't do to go straight over the top, now!"

The ground feels hard beneath Alptraum, more like wooden planks than dirt, and also seems to sway now and then, in a way that the earth generally does not do.

Alptraum's silvery eyes flick open. Slowly, his wings fold back and nestle gently against his back. He takes a step forward and looks around, ears tilting and listening.

The bat finds himself on the deck of a battered old airship, suspended by an envelope marked by fire and punched through with many holes, not looking the least bit capable of suspending the craft in the air such as it does. The sky is overcast with storm clouds, and lightning frequently launches downward, but there is no Sea of Souls this time … rather, a vast expanse of gray, swirling mist that obscures all save a mountain that rises from the formless expanse. The airship is drifting over the lowest slopes visible above the mist, and slowly changes course so that it is not bearing straight for the peak – where Alptraum can make out a tiered ziggurat, some sort of temple, standing at the apex of a path of red stone that winds its way up the mountain slope.

"Tighten that rigging!" the Korv calls out to a ghostly Savanite crewman. The crewman nods, more quiet than even a living Savanite, and pulls at the tattered cords, which somehow hold in place as if they were whole and not so rotten and broken as they appear to Alptraum's eyes.

"W-where am I?" Alptraum utters softly as he walks along the deck. He looks around, watching the activity around him. Curious, he approaches one of the Savanites and waves his hand in front of his face to see if they see him.

The Savanite turns to look at Alptraum with hollow eyes, eyes that look as if they'd been gouged out, or picked out by some scavenger birds. But perhaps looking toward Alptraum still counts as "seeing" him.

"We'll catch up with that rascal yet!" the pirate Korv calls out, angrily shaking a wing-claw fist in the air. "He'll not go to his grave laughing about my misfortune! Wizardry, illusion, trickery, bah!"

The Eeee draws back, shocked by empty eyes of the Savanite. He swallows and softly steps away. He looks back out over the mist, his ears canting back to listen to the Korv. His eyes lock on the ziggurat and he wonders what it could be.

Words reach Alptraum's ears, from a lone voice singing from the mountain, a girl's voice, carrying despite the distance. It sounds like a fragment of the song. "… Life and Death, so very far apart, so far that I cannot cover this distance. But my life is unfinished; Death, you took me too soon. Death and Life, can you take a word to my love? … "

Alptraum gasps, eyes widening. As if drawn by some unseen force, his wings spread wide and the Eeee tries to take to the air, to go to that voice. Thoughts of the ghosts behind leave him; only that song matters.

The ship is soon left behind, vanishing into the fog almost immediately as he leaves its deck, and pushes it from his mind. Below him, he can see the mountain, a barren place, littered with stone ruins … with statues, monuments, all bearing images of a stern-faced, long-haired Eeee beauty … sometimes gray and colorless, sometimes with flecks of paint that hint at a coloration like that of the illustration from the Korv's book. A path of red stone winds its way up the mountain, like a thin stream of blood, flanked by poles thrust into the ground, suspending a rope fence bordering it on each side. But Alptraum, being airborne, is certainly not beholden to keep to the path.

Alptraum streaks through the sky, thoughts running through his head. Where am I? What am I seeing here? Should I be seeing this? His eyes narrow, though, and he flies onward. Fear isn't going to stop me. Not now, not after hearing, and understanding, part of the song. His ears lock forward, hoping to catch more of the words, more of something.

Shadows alight from the ground – shadows that take the outlines of Eeee, Eeee women in robes, some sort of uniform. They rise to the air, shrieking out wordless challenges to the intruder, making weaving courses as they wing upward, gaining form and substance as they fly to intercept Alptraum's path of flight.

"… Awake, and speak, and tell him my words. Let me live again, through what I tell you," a snippet of the song goes, though it is drowned out by the cries of the shades.

Alptraum tries to fly onward. He can't leave this. Not now. His flight shifts to more of a zigzag pattern, trying to confuse or perhaps dodge those who seek to stop him. "Who are you?!?" comes screaming from his throat, the Eeee hoping, praying, he can be heard.

The shadows are upon Alptraum, slicing past him, and he can feel them passing by him, passing through him, searing in their cold and violent touches, obscuring his vision, shutting out the music with their cries … but through it all, he can still see glimpses of the temple, its steps stained dark with blood, an altar at the top, an Eeee woman with black fur and white hair standing at the summit, a glittering dagger in her hand, her wings shredded even more thoroughly than the shade of Nachtbrise that Alptraum saw in the phantom graveyard. Her wings have a look of deliberateness in their wounds – of intentional mutilation.

Alptraum screams out in terror and pain. His eyes wince shut and his wings beat furiously, trying to continue on. A moment of recognition flashes through his mind. That must be Sunala. He feels his body shudder, yet he cannot turn back. Something draws him forward, toward that nightmarish shape in the distance.

The pain – if, indeed, "pain" is quite a strong enough word to describe it – is almost unbearable, but some indescribable urge even stronger than the impulse to flee before these creatures drives Alptraum on, blindly, through the cold and the screams and the anger of these shades. At last, he breaks free of the cloud, finding himself once more in the open air, his clothes atatter, and his skin lacerated with open cuts and rising welts. The air bites his exposed wounds, chilling him to the bone, but still he forces himself onward. At the altar, the lone Eeee woman looks up. She doesn't seem so large, so powerful as it seems that an angel ought to, especially not with such trappings as these to command. Her attire is much closer to that in the book than the angel he saw in Paradise – thick, heavy robes, simple in cut, but having the look about them that makes Alptraum think of some manner of priestess, or perhaps a sorceress.

Alptraum's breath hisses slowly from between his clenched teeth, ragged and tired. As the pain of the wounds hits him, he winces, flight faltering and the Eeee dipping dangerously to the right. His muscles scream, he screams, wanting to land. The thought of Soon, soon I'll be there and can land, flashes through his mind.

The winds are far from cooperative as Alptraum tries to make his way to the temple. Rather than making it to the summit, the best he can manage is to land, rather painfully, in a heap near the bottom of the stepped ziggurat.

Leathery wings shift painfully in the collapsed and battered heap. The heap, Alptraum, utters a soft groan and slowly brings himself upright, shaking softly. He looks up the steps and swallows. I've come this far, he reasons, so I might as well continue on. The ebon Eeee takes in a deep breath and begins to climb slowly up the stairs on his hands and knees, claws digging and scratching into the stairs.

His progress is slow and irregular. Fortunately, the blood stains on the steps are not especially fresh, lest he slip on them, but his limbs feel like they're made out of lead, right down to the membranes of his poor tortured wings. The shades scream overhead, their cries growing louder, as they circle about the shrine, like winged scavengers waiting to fall upon some dying traveler struggling through the winter snow.

The battered Eeee pauses to catch his breath and let his muscles have some respite from the torture he's forcing them through. After a few minutes, Alptraum continues his painful climb, wings hanging limply from his back. He's not got the strength to hold them fully tucked.

With another shriek, the shades descend upon Alptraum, swooping down, each pass bringing them even closer, and he can feel the bitter cold radiating from their ethereal bodies … but somehow he finds the strength to keep pressing on … or perhaps he's just too weary, too numbed by all this, to quite care as much as he ought to about the looming threat of these specters. At long last, he manages to make it up to the summit – or so he presumes. His eyes are blinded by blood running into them and not having a clean enough rag to wipe them clean. He reaches out for the next step, and grips open air. He can hear a flutter of cloth – or something close to it – blowing in the wind.

Alptraum shakes his head from side to side, trying to shake the blood off that has blinded him. Then, he reaches upward and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinks, trying to clear his eyes and look toward the sound of cloth.

He is able to see that what is fluttering is not the heavy cloth of the Eeee's outer cloak – for they hardly seem to move at all – but rather the shreds of her tattered wings. "So you have come," the girl says – and it is evident that she is but a girl, not some great and powerful woman, not some towering goddess, but just a girl, almost a child. There is a sound of splashing water, and then she stoops down, daubing at Alptraum's face with a damp cloth. The touch of it stings his open wounds.

Alptraum hisses and pulls away from the cloth feebly. He takes in gulps of breath, staring at the strange girl that stands above him. "Y… you," he rasps, "were ex-expecting me? Who are you?"

"I am no one," the girl says. "I am an acolyte. I haven't even a name of my own. But you are someone. I can tell. No one gets past the guardians. No one save for Death's Daughters. And you do not look to me like a Daughter, now do you?" She continues to clean away at Alptraum's face, and the stinging slowly goes away, replaced by a strange numbness, and then a tingling sensation. There's a strange sense of familiarity about her, as if she might be someone important, despite her claim to the contrary, but in a small way. Like … a little sister. (Certainly, there's a resemblance.)

"I… " He swallows. "I'm Alptraum bar Reisender, a nobody as well. Just a lost traveler." He struggles to sit upright and face the little girl. "I know that song you sang… I remember it from long ago, fragmented," he tells her, then blinks. He reaches up to his chest to feel for the pendant he almost always wears.

It's still there. He can't help but notice that the girl wears one identical to it, as she momentarily gets up to leave him, walking over to one side of the altar, and drawing up some fabric. She returns, bringing the robes to Alptraum, and draping them about his shoulders. His eyes are no longer clouded by the blood – In fact, it seems that his wounds have stopped bleeding entirely.

Alptraum takes the fabric around his form, thankful for something to replace the remains of his clothing. He reaches out toward the girl, stopping a bit away from her as he stares at the pendant she wears. "That pendant," he asks, "what is it?" His other hand moves up to hold out the one he wears for her to see.

The girl frowns as she looks at Alptraum's pendant. "Did you steal that?"

He shakes his head in response. "No. I've always had it, for as long as I can remember. I was found wearing it by the Reisenders who adopted me. They found me along the road, or so they told me, in tattered clothing and the pendant," Alptraum explains, thankful for the chance to rest. "Just like that song you were singing. I've always known it. Only just now being able to understand it. It's haunted my dreams. Always thought it was something my real mother sang to me when I was young."

The girl walks back to the altar, hoisting herself and sitting up on its stained surface, as if it were nothing more than a perch for her convenience. "Really? That must be very strange," she says, and then looks over and past Alptraum. "You're leaving soon," she says, sounding disappointed.

"Yeah, it's really strange. I don't even know my real name," he says sadly, looking up at the little girl. He then blinks and tries to get back to his feet. "No, it's too soon. There are answers here. There have to be," he says quickly. "Who are you? Who am I? What am I?"

"What does this pendant mean?" he asks, almost begging as he glances over his shoulder.

The girl looks into Alptraum's own eyes. Her own eyes have silvery, whitish irises, just like Alptraum's own. "I don't know," she whispers, "but … when I find out … I'll tell you, okay?" She smiles sadly, then looks down at the pendant. "It's the mark of the Daughters. Only those of the priesthood may wear it. Only a Daughter would have given it to you, though I cannot guess at why."

Alptraum tries to reach out to her, fingertips straining to touch her, if only for a moment. "Don't make me leave," he whispers. "Please."

"I can't help it," the girl says, giggling. "It's almost morning where you are. You're going to wake up. Happy Fools' Day."

Alptraum regards the girl for a moment, his silver eyes gazing into hers. Carefully, he finishes reaching out to her and his fingertips brush over her cheek for an instant. "Until we meet again," he says softly.

The girl smiles back at Alptraum … and then the dream fades. The scene doesn't seem to entirely fade, though Alptraum's perspective abruptly shifts…

For one thing, the many wounds on his body change to a terrible crick in his neck and a soreness in his wings that seems more appropriate for tossing and turning in his sleep than being slashed to ribbons by specters. The robe draped over his shoulders has become his travel-cloak-turned-blanket …

… and the girl has been replaced by a startled-looking Autumn-Storm, who seems to have been startled in the act of trying to shake Alptraum awake, by him placing his hand upon her cheek. She blinks several times, looking at him with a querulous look and a blush to her ears.

Alptraum's eyes open wide. He sits there, mouth falling agape and staring at the Savanite. Again, he feels fortunate his skin is black and doesn't show embarrassment easily. His hand quickly withdraws and he smiles weakly. Sorry. Bad dream, he signs to her. He then blinks and signs, Why wake me?

Autumn-Storm rolls back onto her feet, then signs, "Morning. Wake. Do morning stuff. Go road." Or something like that. At this point, something's still lost in the translation.

Alptraum can tell that it's definitely morning – the sun is already well into the sky. He must have overslept much more than usual.

Alptraum nods and signs back, "Yes. Sorry." His wings flick slightly and gently ease the blanket off his form. He stands and stretches, his wings spreading wide, causing him to wince slightly. He goes about gathering up the meager supplies they're carrying. He pauses from packing and looks over at Autumn-Storm, signing with one hand, "Sleep well?"

Autumn-Storm just quietly nods. It looks like she's already prepared to go. The campfire is already put out. When Alptraum gets his things together, he hears a squeal; tied up with some cord is a rabbit (the non-anthropomorphic sort) flopping about. These creatures are capable of letting out the most horrible screams when they're alarmed – and it seems to be very alarmed right now.

Alptraum looks at the rabbit, then at Autumn-Storm. "What this?" he signs quizzically, confused. A thought hit him and he realizes, she must obviously know by now. Even though he never allows anyone to see him … feed, surely never eating at the campfire gave some clue.

"For road," Autumn-Storm signs.

Alptraum looks at Autumn-Storm and shrugs to indicate he doesn't understand.

Autumn-Storm rolls her eyes, then walks over, grabs up the hog-tied rabbit – prompting it to shriek loudly – and then roughly tosses its flailing little body in Alptraum's direction.

Alptraum catches the rabbit and looks down at it. He swallows softly, then looks back at the cheetah. With a nod, he turns away, not really wanting to know if she's going to watch. He raises the rabbit up slowly and his lips pull back, revealing the white glint of his fangs. With movement obviously honed through the years, his jaw whips forward and clamps onto the rabbit's neck, fangs sinking in.

The rabbit's scream is quickly cut off, and its struggles don't last long. Not bad, really. This one was pretty tasty, in good health. Autumn-Storm doesn't seem to be sticking around to watch, though. From the sounds of it, she's already crunching through the undergrowth, making her way toward the road.

The Eeee tilts his head back, trying to have "breakfast" rather quickly. Within a minute or two, he's consumed what he can and grabs up what remains of the supplies. Instead of throwing the rabbit away, he carries the body along as well as he dashes off after the cheetah through the undergrowth.

When Alptraum finally reaches her, he offers the body to her and says slowly, "You might have use for this later. Thank you." He smiles slightly to her, a tint of red still showing around and on his fangs.