The Stray

The Long Way Home, Pt. 3

It was a ghostly figure, made of loose rags and billowing mist, formed vaguely into a horsebeast. Where it floated, the cold was so bitter that the grass shattered. Its eyes were like bottomless pits; Meri shuddered beside him as they swept the clearing, slow and menacing. Then it exhaled, and billows of the same cold, dark, glittering mist that made up the monster poured forth all around them. The sound was just awful, like rusty swords scraping against rock-hard ice. As the mist swirled, a drowsy haze fell over the clearing. All the sounds of the wood slowly faded, muffled like their ears were covered in pillows. Timothy's brand started to activate, but he clamped down just in time.

The cold grew so bitter that Meri pushed up against his cloak for warmth. Timothy struggled to keep his limbs still. The cold felt like it was sucking out what little strength he had. Death of cold. His brain felt like it was floating in honey. Again and again the Nightmare scanned the clearing, trying to smell their emotions. More breath, more nightmare mist. A comfortable weight pressed down on all Timothy's senses. His eyelids began to feel like pebbles, then rocks, then tombstones, weighing down more and more. Timothy bit the back of his hand hard to keep from falling asleep. All he could do for Meri was grip her arm tightly.

Then, it moved on. Meri all but fainted next to him as heat slowly returned to the world. The sleeping curse's grip loosened. Timothy didn't relax just yet, though. Nightmares were smart. For one, then another tense minutes, they waited, shivering as their energy returned. Finally, the witch felt just safe enough to let his charge up, letting the shield vanish back into him.

"What was that?" Meri was shaking all over.

"A Nightmare." The witch bit his lip to control his breathing. "We're lucky they're almost blind." He helped her to her feet. She was kind of unsteady, and he didn't blame her for it one bit. "Man, I hate those things."

"I thought you liked monsters..."

"There's no talkin' to a Nightmare." Timothy shuddered. "And the things they can do to you..."

"Yeah, like makin' you cold!" To his surprise, Meri was actually smiling again. "How'd you stop it from seeing us?"

Timothy started walking again before answering. "Filter shield. They feel emotions. They can see a li'l, but their eyes are better at picking out auras than bodies. If we'd fallen asleep, we'd have never woke up." The horrid dreams they caused were bad enough, but they fed on the life force of sleepers directly through'em!

"Cool! Well, I mean, not really good, but still! I've never seen one of them before."

"Be glad of that. They're nasty." He brushed himself off. "Ugh, we really woke up half the forest. We're nowhere near the Mists."

For a few moments, they walked in quiet.

"Y'know, my mom used to kill Nightmares."

Meri said it so matter-of-factly that Timothy almost said something flippant. Then his brain caught up with his ears. "I... what?"

Meri giggled. "My mom was a merc! She gave it up when she met my mama, though. It's also cuz she got run through by a nightmare lord, but I think mama was the big reason."

Timothy all but tripped over his own feet. There was a lot to unpack in that statement. And again, the little girl said it like she was talking about the weather or something. "No, really, what?" Nightmare Lords were horrible, awful monsters, the kind that great warriors feared. Timothy had thankfully never met one-- even his awful luck had its limits. When enough Nightmares gather, they struggle and begin to eat one another. The one left was the meanest, the deadliest, the darkest of all, and in absorbing their lessers they became something else. A greater spirit of fear itself, capable of commanding legions of fell beasts and spirits. The Lords themselves were terrifying even without their armies, though. Their blades could destroy the mortal spirit (though thankfully not the immortal soul.) They could force entire towns into cursed sleep, drinking of their lives. And their mere passing brought winter storms even in midsummer, destroying crops and killing the wilds. The Dark Dragon— his "patron"— had controlled several for his armies, and they were some of the most feared generals he had, causing devastation all across Strenel. The only generals who were more feared were the Blood Moon Witches.