The Dreamfarer

12

It was the first time in what felt like forever that she had not entered a dream when sleep came upon her.

She opened her eyes after the most restful sleep she could remember having; but again, she knew she only felt that way because the past few days had been a roller coaster ride for her subconscious. 

Her heart dropped when she did not see Folco sitting by her bedside. She cursed herself for longing for something so absurd as that and pushed herself into a sitting position.

She was in a tent; a rather large one. She had been placed on an uncomfortable cot, and there were a few empty ones surrounding her. She assumed this was some sort of medic's tent. 

She reached her hand up to gingerly touch the skin around her eye. It still hurt, but not nearly as badly as it had. She wished there was a mirror somewhere in the tent so that she could see how banged-up she looked, but it might have been a good thing that there wasn't. 

She swung her legs off the edge of the cot and cautiously lowered herself to the floor. She immediately had a horrible sensation of vertigo, and she was worried that she would be too dizzy to walk, but it passed fairly quickly. She exhaled softly with relief and walked, slowly, to the entrance flap of the tent.

Mae peeked out with her good eye, making sure to keep the majority of her body hidden. She wanted to see what she was surrounded by, but she did not want anyone to see her. She could not say that she really trusted warlocks, seeing as the ones she had met so far had not been abundantly pleasant company. Folco was, of course, the exception - but she was beginning to think he wasn't like the others in more ways than one.

There were warlocks everywhere, milling around their camp performing mundane tasks, from what she could see; that was, until she caught sight of a flash of light, and saw that there was a group of warlock children playing together. Their hair was all bright - two yellow, one green, one orange - and they were tossing balls of luminous energy that she knew to be magic at each other. Even as she watched, one of the balls struck a nearby tent, and what must have been one of the warlocks' mothers strode over, visibly chiding all of them as she laid a hand against the flame that had caught on the fabric. The instant she touched it, it was gone.

Mae swallowed and pushed more of her body outside of the tent so that she could peer around the corner of it. She hoped to catch sight of Kroma's tent somewhere; it must be a big one, probably the biggest one in the camp. At least that was what she assumed and hoped to be true.

Luck was with her. Just when she had decided to flee her cover and go searching for the tent - seeing as it did not seem to be close enough for her to see from here - Folco crossed her line of vision. He was not close enough for her to yell to - not that she would anyway, with all of these strangers around her - but his head, as if pulled by that inexplicable connection, the magnetism between them that Mae could never avoid and had yet to understand, turned towards the tent she was standing next to, as if his eyes could peel away the drapes of fabric and check on her condition inside.

He stopped in his tracks when their eyes met. 

She felt her lips rise in a tentative smile, but she could not hold them there; it hurt her face too much. She cringed, and when she looked up again, Folco was gone.

She could not help the pout that dragged her lips back down; which, ironically, hurt less than the smile. Reluctantly, she spun her body around and prepared herself to re-enter the tent, thinking that she should probably wait until somebody came to see her, seeing as Folco obviously did not want to.

Or at least, that was what she thought, until she nearly walked straight into him.

She lurched back, but he caught her easily. She blushed again. I have got to stop doing that, she chided herself. It made her feel weak, and she did not want Folco thinking that she was fragile, that she would always require assistance. Then she remembered the words he had said to her earlier: You can handle Kroma. She snorted. He believed in her more than she believed in herself, and he barely knew her.