In a darkened upstairs room of the Blackshire Inn, lit only by the ambient glow of street-lanterns outside the window, and a low and fat candle near the door, Alptraum is alone with his thoughts and his memories. He sits up in bed, fully dressed, looking out the window at the Reckoning Eve festivities outside: the gypsies and the villagers dancing, playing music, playing games.

Slowly, he raises his recorder to his muzzle and starts to play a slow, somber song. The song he remembers, the one that haunts him. As he plays, the Eeee watches the goings-on outside for a time. Watches. The word hangs in his mind. Not part of. His eyes close as he plays, a feeling of being terribly alone settling over him.

As he continues to play, the music he plays takes on a life on his own, seeming that it could continue without him playing it … but the music of the festivities outside seems to grow louder, attempting to drown it out, competing in its energy with the slow and melancholy tune.

Somewhere along the way, Alptraum realizes that he's flying, with his eyes closed.

Oddly enough, the Eeee doesn't seem to be disturbed. He flies along, following the sounds, not his vision. Only after a time does he finally let his eyes open, slowly.

The room of the inn is gone. In its place is an open expanse of sky, illuminated as if in brilliant daylight, though there is no sun to be seen in the sky. Pink-shadowed clouds stretch out in all directions, seemingly more solid than clouds ought to be – as if castles and bridges in the sky imagined by a child lying and staring at the sky were given life and substance. A vast city of cloudy spans stretches outward, and in the distance, the source of light can be seen – a fairytale castle, a strange and wondrous confection of spun glass and crystal, surrounded by a moat of open sky, and outside that, a hedge twined with brilliant flowers of gold and blue.

Alptraum inhales deeply and stretches his wings wide. He glides lazily through the beautiful sky, basking in the sunlight. Slowly, a smile creeps across his face and he makes a graceful arc, soaring towards the castle in the distance.

He is not the only flier in this sky. Many other Eeee fly about, each one of them beautiful, handsome specimens, more so than it would seem possible any Eeee could ever be. The air is alive with festive music and sounds of merriment. But even these perfect people pale in comparison to one flier that soars over to Alptraum, a white-furred beauty adorned in fluttering veils and strands of jewels, with strange blue markings patterning her fur. She sweeps downward, and then flies upward, so that she is positioned as if standing in front of Alptraum, slowly beating her wings in a way that could not possibly serve to hold her so still and straight in real life.

Alptraum does a lazy slide to the left through the air, beating his wings slowly. He gazes around, astounded by all the sides, the sounds and the other Eeee. His silver eyes turn to lock on the one that has come over to him. He stares, both in awe and confusion. Just what is this place? Who are these people?

The luminescent Eeee smiles at Alptraum with a face so beautiful that he is immediately wracked with an aching sense of emptiness somewhere deep within himself – a considerable longing for this moonstone-haired being. This makes it all the more painful when she speaks in melodic tones. "You may go no further, Alptraum. You do not belong here." Despite her prohibition, Alptraum finds it hard to believe any malice could be meant in these words. She seems so … angelic in countenance.

"Where is here? Why do I not belong?" he asks quietly, feeling rather insignificant.

"This is Paradise," the angelic being responds, with only the faintest touch of sadness to her words. "I am so sorry, Alptraum, but you must go to the other place."

And at these words, Alptraum is struck by a chill up his spine … the very same sensation he experienced earlier this evening, flying over the forest. He has the distinct sensation that there is something behind him … something cold and uninviting.

"What?" he asks. "Why?" His voice quickly shifts, almost pleading.

"It is not my choice, Alptraum," the being says, as she begins to slowly drift away, floating backwards. Or, that is, Alptraum himself seems to be slowly drifting backwards … toward … whatever it is … behind him. In the distance, Alptraum can vaguely make out a marvelous creature – a winged Drokar – but such wonders seem of little consequence, compared to the feeling of dread and impending doom that is washing over him.

Alptraum feels a ripple of terror wash over him. His wings start beating frantically, trying to escape whatever pulls at him. He struggles, he cries out, his clawed hands reach out toward Paradise. Yet, deep down, he knows it's futile. He fears what awaits him.

And inevitable it proves to be. He is struck with the sudden thought that he doesn't know this angelic being's name, and that somehow if he did, he might be able to see her again … but there is no time for that. Paradise floats away, darkening, to be replaced by a new place. A blanket of clouds covers the sky, while a vast and churning gray sea stretches out below, and it is unclear where one ends and the other begins, where they meet at the horizon.

Flashes of lightning play from cloud to cloud, and occasionally leap to the sea below, joined by peals of screaming thunder.

Alptraum strains with his wings like never before, his screams merging with the booms of thunder. "Noooooooo!"

And the thunder screams with him. Below him, the sounds of the crashing waves seem like a thousand voices, all wailing and bemoaning the fate of being in this forsaken place. And the more Alptraum strains his wings, the heavier they seem to become. Some unseen force seems to pull at him, inexorably dragging him downward toward the gray ocean far below.

Whispers reach his ears again. Snippets of words. Strange foreign words as if half-remembered, just on the tip of his tongue … but which cannot be pronounced without just coming out as senseless babble.

Alptraum's expression weakens, his eyes glisten and he blinks away tears. His struggles fade, his hope fades. Slowly, the Eeee starts to collapse his wings, letting the forces take him. "Goodbye," he whispers to the realms above.

At once, he plummets, down, down … and as the waves rise up to meet him, he is suddenly struck that this is not water at all. Rather, it is an endless mass of faces, of grasping hands, of flailing wings, and the occasional foot or tail of some upturned body. The bodies lack true definition, however, the features of one melting and then fading into the next. Every now and again, one of them struggles, clawing and pushing his or her way to the surface, and occasionally spreads wings to take flight and to break free from the mass … but once again, it seems that the doomed soul is dragged down again, to once more join the teeming mass.

Even as he sees this, Alptraum feels some strength return to his wings, as if whatever force were wrenching him downward, forcing him down this way, has relented just a little, returning to some normal semblance of gravity again.

The Eeee slowly, steadily, extends his wings. He begins to flap again, trying to rise up from this abyss of horrors. He takes in a deep breath and says softly, "I do not belong here. I am not a monster."

Once again, Alptraum feels the tug on him, some force exerted by something – perhaps someone – keeping him from flying too high. But whenever he drops too low, it seems as if it becomes effortless to soar … or, indeed, to merely hover in place.

Whispers reach his ears from the mass of souls. "Welcome to the Sea of Souls," one whispers, then laughs maniacally. "Only you can make us live again," another says. "Let us relive our lives, through what we tell you," another pleads. "Stay here." "Stay here." "Stay with us." "Don't go." "Please."

But not all of the voices are so pleasant or pleading. "You'll join us soon enough," one mocks. "Why not join us now?" another joins in. "His home is here. Forever."

"Is this it? Am I to ride between two worlds?" he questions himself, "Part of both, but member of neither?" As the whispers come again, he calls back, "Why am I here? Why? I have done no wrongs!"

And even as Alptraum cries this last, he hears his words echoed by dozens, perhaps more, of hapless souls. "Why? Why? Why?" Grasping hands reach out, fingers fumbling for him, but falling just short of reaching his hands or feet. For a moment, he sees the face of an Eeee – Nachtbrise – and there, he recognizes the Korv that chased him down, though minus his eye patch, exposing a hollow socket. And here and there, are faces, some familiar, departed members of the gypsy caravan – and many of them … why are they in such a horrid place? Such bright spirits, loving people, some of them … should they not deserve Paradise instead?

"My father! My own father! He is the one that murdered me, not Talonis!" a maid, a complete stranger, wails. "My treasure, it is buried under Anchor Point," a salty voice growls. "Tell my brother that he is a good-for-nothing who should have died before me!" comes a canine howl. "I know secrets! I can ruin her life! All you have to do is tell them for me!" comes a panicked whisper. "Tell Mommy I love her," comes a child's cry.

His whole body tenses, then he lunges forward and flies as fast as he can over the Sea of Souls, straining his wings to their limit. His eyes wince shut, his cheeks wet. Can I escape the voices? Can I find out who holds them here? Why are they held here? His own blood pounds in his ears as he soars over the never-ending sea. When the cry of the child comes, it hits him hard. Why would a child be in a place so horrid has this?

As the Eeee surges over the Sea, he finds that he is able to crest the waves almost effortlessly, even if he cannot find the strength to go high enough to be free of these voices, not against this unseen force holding him down. Hands reach out wherever he passes, hands of all shapes and species, though inexplicably the vast multitude of them are Eeee.

Traum slows after a time and simply looks out over the expanse. He looks at his own clawed hands sadly, the dark claws glinting. He then looks down to the sea below and reaches out, his fingertips touching those that reach to him.

There seems to be something curiously missing from this sea of souls, though he can't quite place it. But even though he has soared perhaps miles across this ocean, and left the shade of Nachtbrise behind, somehow he encounters her again, when he reaches out, and her slender fingertips just brush his.

A lone figure, a frail-looking woman, lies in a bed, covered by a hand-sewn quilt. It is Nachtbrise, and her raven tresses shine softly in the Procession light filtered through the window, as they spill out on the sheets.

"Torano," she whispers to the air, in a ragged gasp. "Torano, please come quickly." But there is no one else in the cottage. Outside, Alptraum can hear sounds of conflict – men doing battle with some sort of wild beasts, on the edge of town.

Quietly, Alptraum approaches the woman. His wings fold back and his arms hang limply at his sides. Carefully, he kneels beside the bed and swallows. Unsure if he should speak.

A long silence hangs in the air, but at last, the woman whispers again, "Please tell my Torano … tell him that I'm sorry … I'm sorry for what I said. Tell him that I love him. He shouldn't … blame … himself."

Alptraum reaches out and his hand atop her covered one. "I will," he says quietly in reply. "I promise. You just rest. I'm sure deep down, he all already knows. Save your strength for the journey ahead." Alptraum finds it within himself to smile sadly to the dying Eeee. "You just rest."

Her eyes are closed, but her mouth weakly curls into a smile. Alptraum can smell blood … and he can see a dark stain slowly spreading in the bed sheet. But before he has much time to even register this fact … he is aware of the fact that she is breathing no more, and her pulse has weakened and gone … but her smile still remains, peaceful in the Procession light … and then …

Once again, Alptraum is gliding over the Sea of Souls, as his fingers slip away from Nachtbrise's, and her hand disappears beneath the "waters" once more. He feels lighter now … as if there is no longer any force holding him down.

Alptraum remains over the Sea for some time after Nachtbrise's hand fades from view. "I'm so sorry, Nachtbrise, for whatever happened back then," he whispers, "I will fulfill your request, I swear it." With that, Alptraum spreads his wings wide and beats them rapidly, trying to soar away from this place of sadness.

Even as Alptraum lifts up from the Sea, the world around him seems less real, less solid … like a dream starting to give way to wakefulness. But as he flies upward, toward the distant storm clouds … he sees a flash of lightning illuminate a silhouetted body … a body falling from the clouds … a cheetah girl, dressed in blousy, mud-spattered, blood-stained attire, a wide sash about her waist, black curls tied back with a head scarf … flopping about like a rag doll, plummeting downward to the Sea.

Alptraum moves toward the falling girl. His wings beat rapidly, and he reaches out. I remember her. The girl I let go in the forest. Has she now passed on too? Have I, for that matter? If not, then why am I here?

The bat finds it much easier to soar now, and it seems that as soon as he wills himself to cross the distance between himself and the falling cheetah, even though it seems an impossible distance to span in such a short time – he is there. And as he reaches out for her arm, his surroundings flash to something else entirely…

It is a cold night, the Procession light barely showing through the thick patches of rain clouds covering the sky. Thunder peals in the distance, heralding a coming storm. But that is of little concern to a long figure that has dragged herself under the partial shelter of one of the ruined old brick buildings, under an overhang of rotten collapsed roofing. A trail of blood follows her here from the roadside, as she clutches a wound in her gut, vainly trying to contain the bleeding. Her breaths come raggedly, and she pants and licks her lips, as if thirsting for water.

She looks from her vantage point, after an unseen Drokar galloping off into the night, away from Blackshire Village, mocking laughter dying into the chirrups of insects, the howls of wild things, and the other sounds of the forest before the rainfall.

Soft footsteps approach the fallen cheetah, then the rustle of leathery wings. Silver eyes look down sadly at the girl whom earlier in the evening, had given him such a trying time. Slowly, he kneels beside her and places his hand upon her shoulder. "Easy," he says, "I think your journey in this world has come to an end."

With glazed eyes, the cheetah looks up toward Alptraum. Although he should be casting a shadow over her, blocking the Procession light, he doesn't, and she might as well be staring through him, as at him. She slowly shakes her head, and frees one hand to form signs … and somehow, Alptraum can understand them. "No, please," she pleads. "Don't let me die here. I'll do anything. I'll give you everything I have. I'll pledge you my life. Just please … don't let me die like this."

"I don't know how. I don't know if I can," Alptraum says, voice cracking some. "If I knew how to save you, I would. I … I've touched your soul. It's like I can witness, but, I don't know if I can bring you back. I … I could try, but, please forgive me if I cannot," he says haltingly. "If I can't save you, can I do anything for you? Is there one last wish I could fulfill?"

There's something strange about the thunder, as it peals again … as Alptraum is struck by the curious sensation of hearing it as if from two places at once, like two voices speaking the same words in unison.

And then … before the cheetah can convey to Alptraum just what her last wish is … he finds himself back in the inn room, in bed, the recorder still clutched in his hands. His last request echoes in his own words; he's been talking in his sleep, he immediately realizes, speaking his last words to the open air rather than in his dream.

The Eeee lurches out of the bed and gets to his feet, stumbling for a moment. In a hurry, he scrambles over to the last bits of his clothing and pulls them on. He rushes downstairs, then runs out the door to the Inn. He looks around, inhaling deeply. Along the road, he thinks. She's along the road.

Another peal of thunder rumbles, shaking the windows. There's no more music coming from outside, though Alptraum can clearly make out singing in the common room downstairs, as he makes his way down the stairs.

"Ho there!" Farmer Poe calls out, taking a break from dancing atop one of the tables. "There's my rescuer! Let's hear it for the ghost-fighter!" Several mugs raise, as toasts are made to Alptraum, even as his eyes adjust to the light.

Traum makes his way over to Poe, barely noticing the cheers. "How far are the ruins from here? The ones along the road?" he asks.

"Huh?" Poe caws, looking a bit groggy from having a bit too much ale. "The ruins? Oh! Old … I mean … new … Kurai Town! Aw, just a few wing-beats! But you'll never make it before the storm hits!" He caw-laughs, clearly not catching Alptraum's distress in his inebriated condition.

"Thanks," Traum replies bluntly and heads toward the door. He grips the doorknob and swallows, thinking he must've lost his mind, but … I have to try. The door opens shortly thereafter and he steps out. Once outside, his wings unfurl.

A sprinkling of cold droplets of water hit Alptraum's wings as he heads out to the street, deserted save for a black Khatta lamp-lighter rushing to ignite the last lantern before the rain gets any worse.

The Eeee wastes no time, he dashes down the street, then takes off, beating his wings rapidly. Rain or no, he's got to try. He lines up with the road, and soars along it, keeping his height low enough that he can track the road, yet not hit any nearby trees, he hopes.

This is the road his caravan came down, he recalls, though he didn't spend the whole time out and watching the route the entire way, hence his lack of certainty about exactly where there were ruins along the way. (After all, ruins in Sylvania? You can find that just about anywhere that might have once been civilized.) But while at first he covers ground with great uncertainty … after a while, he is struck by more of a sense of familiarity. And about the time that the rain hits full force, he can see a few lantern lights hinting at a settlement ahead … and judging from what he remembers from his dream … the ruins should be … down below … about … there.

His wings close in and he swoops down, scanning the surroundings via sound. He takes a leap of faith and trusts his memory of the dream, flying to the spot he thinks he stood at.

It takes some searching. At first, he sees a spot that looks like that might be the spot … but no, that's not quite right. Again, another false alarm. Add this to the aggravation of the falling rain soaking him to the bone, and the sensation that the memories of his dream are starting to fade away in their clarity, and things start to seem pretty desperate … but then he catches a faint whiff of the scent of blood … and his keen ears pick up the sounds of ragged breathing. There … under that collapsed roof…

The Eeee inhales, and smells – blood, a scent he does know well. He heads toward the sound of breathing, running outright. "Hang on, I'm coming," he calls out. "Please, hang on!"

Alptraum trips over several pieces of rubble, and slips on a blood-slicked spot, but in the panic of the moment, it seems inconsequential, and any pain is slow to reach his consciousness. There, sure enough, underneath the overhang, is a bloodied body of a cheetah girl – still breathing, eyes closed.

Alptraum rushes over and drops to his knees beside her. His eyes look over her fallen form and he swallows. What can I do, really? Try. He quickly looks for any open wounds to bind before he tries to pick her up.

The only evident wound is somewhere in her belly … and, frankly, he's not really familiar enough with Savanites to know exactly what would be hit if one were stabbed there, as they're a bit longer and more slender of build than even Eeee. Nonetheless, he does his best at binding her wounds, and finds that, with the adrenaline pumping, he is able to pick her up and off the ground. Through this, she shows no signs of stirring.

The thought crosses him mind of attempting to fly with her, but he quickly discards the idea. He's never tried to fly and carry a heavy weight before. So, he flips his wings up and over his head to shield both of them from the rain and starts heading back toward the town, jogging now and then when he finds the energy. All through this, he continues to talk to the fallen Savanite, telling her she'll make it. That she just has to hold on and not give up.

The closest settlement is the village of Kurai Town, built in the shells of some of the old ruined buildings, or replacing them entirely. Most of the lights are out, but some firelight can be seen blazing in a much smaller inn – the sort that only has a main common room, where the tables are moved aside to make a place to sleep, rather than having the luxury of separate rooms.

The Eeee heads toward the light of the tavern. When he reaches it, he kicks the base of the door firmly and calls out, "Open the door, please! I've got someone who's been seriously hurt. We need a doctor."

A bolt is thrown, and the door opens, revealing an aproned cheetah, whose eyes go wide when she sees the traveler and his burden. She silently motions him in, and waves to someone else unseen, making those strange finger gestures – and despite any understanding he might have had in his dream, Alptraum is back to being able to make no sense whatsoever of them now.

In the following madness, the inn explodes into a flurry of panicked late-night activity. As it turns out, there really aren't many guests at all staying in the common room, since all of the fun celebrations are going on over in Blackshire Village … but Alptraum and the unknown cheetah he has just pulled in are taken over by the hearth to warm up. The doctor – the same one who tended to Alptraum earlier this very evening – is called in, and starts tending to the cheetah's wounds, with a mixture of what seems like reasonable practice … and a great deal of what some people might be inclined to call witchcraft, for all Alptraum can tell. For what it's worth, she's still breathing … and after a while of sitting in front of the hearth with several blankets draped over him, the warmth starts to return to Alptraum's chilled bones.

And through it all … Alptraum cannot understand a bit of all the finger-wiggling questions posed to him.

Alptraum's starting to develop a standard response to any finger-wiggling directed towards him. He just smiles apologetically and shrugs. The Eeee is currently content to just sit by the fireside and wait to see if the injured girl looks like she'll pull through. If she has the pendant, he'll make sure it gets back to the rightful owner, if not, such is life. Regardless, he's not sure how he'd explain any of this to anyone.

Alptraum has a fitful night. He has dreams again of the Sea of Souls, and fragments of Paradise, but it's not the same; they're dreams, but merely that, it seems. Eventually, he wakes up in the morning, to find that, yes, the mystery girl has made it through the night, thanks somehow to the circles of lizard bones and feathers and patterns of colored sand dirtying up the floor around her, and the necklaces of herbs dangled about her … or perhaps she's just especially hardy, and only needed some decent bandaging and a place in front of the fire.

His communication problems haven't improved any, and it seems that many of the people here – even the physician – don't happen to know how to write in Sylvanian (or Rephidim Standard, for that matter).

Relief finally comes, however, shortly after sunrise, with the arrival of a Dromodon-pulled wagon. Someone hops off … and shortly after that, through the front door comes Hexen. "He's here! He's here!" the black fox calls back out the door.

Alptraum looks toward his rather unusual friend. "Hey, Hexen," he says with a lot less enthusiasm than normal, "I'd have come back to town sooner, but I've had someone to look after." He motions to the Savanite near the fire. "I found her last night, almost dead," he explains.

Hexen walks over toward Alptraum, and looks past him to the still-unconscious cheetah lying in a bundle near the hearth. "Well, it's good to find out you're all right. Your parents went into a panic when they'd checked on you at the inn and found you'd headed out."

"I didn't have time to tell them," Traum says, his eyes focused on the Savanite.

To emphasize Hexen's point, in comes Sabine, next, followed by Dimitris … and the sheriff. "My Alptraum!" she wails, clasping her hands together and rushing over to him. "You frighten years off your poor mother's life, doing such things!"

"I'm sorry, Daia," Alptraum explains, "but I didn't have time to come find you and Father. I think I just barely made it in time as it is. She was near death. It's a miracle I somehow found her."

Sabine seems to hardly listen to Alptraum, though, as she smothers him in a barrage of loudly expressed worries, and frequent (and humiliating) kisses round about the face and ears, as if he were but a kit, and not a grown man.

The bat sighs inwardly, but suffers through it. He's rather used to it by now, it seems.

The sheriff, meanwhile, walks over to the innkeeper, and though it's evident that she has to make her signs very slowly and deliberately – and his are likewise halting in return – he still has some ability with this finger-sign language of the Savanites. He occasionally looks toward Alptraum, and to the unconscious cheetah by the fire, nodding.

"He's going to blame me for this somehow. He'll say I was aiding her, just watch," Alptraum mutters.

"Now then, Sabine," Dimitris says, with scarcely concealed humor, "let our son have a moment to breathe. You'll smother him, if you're not careful."

Sabine looks indignantly back to Dimitris, but then casts a worried glance to the sheriff. "Does he have such a bent against you, my Alptraum? Perhaps if we are not welcome, we should be moving on now… "

"He has some hatred of me, yes. But I do not know what," Alptraum replies, his gaze falling on the sheriff. He calls out to the sheriff, "Your name is Torano, isn't it?"

The sheriff jerks his attention back toward Alptraum. "Yes, it is. But you may call me Sheriff Darken."

"I have a message for you, Torano," Alptraum replies, apparently ignoring the Eeee's request of title.

The bat's red eyes narrow, as he does not miss the presumed slight.

"And I intend to deliver it before you start leveling whatever accusations you're already constructing in that hateful mind of yours. It won't matter what I say, you've already decided I'm some sort of evil thing. Never mind I don't even know what I am," Alptraum says coolly, tired of being treated badly. "I was with Nachtbrise when she died. Don't ask me how, I don't know myself. Somehow, I was there, beside her." His voice softens some and he continues, "She said she's sorry for what she said to you. That she still loves you dearly. And that … you shouldn't blame yourself."

The sheriff stands there for a long moment, looking at Alptraum. "Poe told me about the ghost," he says, at last. "He didn't know about that part." He looks as if he's about to say something more, but the pause for him to find his words is noticeable.

"She told me your name. That's how I knew it, the second time I saw her. The first was with Poe. The second was in a dream, when I touched her hand in the Sea of Souls … which is also how I found her," Traum replies, motioning to the Savanite. "I felt her pain and reached out, touching her. Suddenly I was with her as she lay dying. She begged me to save her. I said I'd try. Whether I've succeeded, I do not know. She was already on her way to the Sea of Souls." He then adds, "Whatever that is."

Once Alptraum makes mention of the cheetah, Sheriff Darken seems relieved at an opportunity to switch the topic. "Is she the one you chased in the woods?" he asks, pointing at her.

"Yes, she is," Alptraum answers. "I imagine she has the pendant on her."

"Doctor Evening-Fire claims she does not," the sheriff says, "and that she was stabbed. Regardless, she has a reputation as a trouble-maker." A short pause, and then he says, "She is, quite obviously, not a member of your caravan, but rather one of our own problems."

"Like I told you before," Traum says, "we have no idea who she is. I still don't know her name and I may have saved her life." He huffs softly. "When she lay dying, she pledged her life to me if I'd save her. She was so terrified."

The sheriff only shakes his head, then exchanges a few more hand-signs with the innkeeper. The innkeeper nods in reply … and the sheriff walks back to the door.

"When do you want us out? Or rather, me, out," Alptraum asks the sheriff.

"Are you that eager?" the sheriff calls back.

"No, but I thought you were," Alptraum mutters under his breath, evenas the sheriff still speaks.

"Your people will be staying the winter, I am sure – unless you give the Kurais reason to decide otherwise," Darken continues. "Good day, young Reisender." And with that, he heads outside.

Dimitris raises an eyebrow. "That almost sounded friendly."

Alptraum shakes his head and sighs. "I'm sorry I've met another." He looks at his adoptive parents and says, "I'm sorry I went off. I just got so tired of him hating me, and he doesn't even know me. I … I know it was poor manners, but I just couldn't take it a second time."

Dimitris pats Alptraum lightly on the shoulder. "Worry not, my son. Though he seems bent against you, you have done much to impress the rest of the town." He smiles hopefully.

Hexen, meanwhile, seems to have avoided this exchange by ordering a bowl of mush, which he is presently gobbling down, over at a table next to the wall.

"Or scare them," Traum replies. "In any event, I think I'm going to wait and see if she recovers. I want to see what she remembers. Plus, I do sort of feel responsible for her now." He hrms softly and looks over at Hexen. "Though, in a few hours I'll probably need to deal with finding something to eat, as well. Hexen, you willing to keep watch over her when I need to go out?"

"Shmph tmph!" Hexen says with a full mouth, and nodding, displaying his typically atrocious manners.

"Well, we'll leave you be, then," Dimitris says, casting a meaningful glance to Sabine to quiet a protest from her. "We'll go back to the wagons."

"You're welcome to stay too, of course," Traum quickly replies before his parents head out. Right now, I need the company." He grins. "Plus, someone I can actually talk to other than the great stomach over there. Plus, all that finger wiggling makes me dizzy." With that, the young Eeee walks over to the sleeping Savanite and kneels beside her again. "Hey," he whispers to her, "if you can hear me, I told you, you'd make it."