Hunter, Juggernaut, Assassin, Warrior (DNF)

Don't Fall

He awoke when the morning dew painted the grass. When dawn broke the cloudy skies, it's gentle beams struck down, making the stream glitter with silver and gold. It was peaceful. A misty haze had settled in the night, giving the morning a sense of solidarity. The air carried with the musky scent of forest. And it was quiet. Very quiet.

Clay opened his tired eyes. He barely remembered the events of last night, all he knew for sure, was the tense throbbing in his side still hadn't subsided. He looked around. With the fog and the sudden absence of George, Clay felt secluded and so alone. The fog wasn't heavy, but it still obscured his vision enough to make him uneasy. He breathed in deeply, his chest was tight and uncomfortable, making it hard to breathe.

Rubbing slumber from his eyes, he searched the campground. George was gone, that much was obvious, but he left somethings behind. Near Clay's feet was a full canteen of water and some fresh berries. Clay grabbed them, devouring them with greed. He didn't even notice how hunger ran ravenous through his body. He slowly rose to his feet.

He'd go to the village today and seek the potion maker. He wouldn't made it very far with a wound like that. Plus he would be receiving a visitor today. He sipped at the fresh water, it's crisp taste satisfying his thirst. On the bank of the stream, in the moist dirt was written out 'had to go, head to village - George'. Dream breathed out of his nose with force at this message. Least he didn't leave without a goodbye. Now all he had was the matter of packing up.

He dug out the clothing he hid before, separating them. He washed his black top in the currents if the stream, ridding it of his blood; he hung it to dry. As it dried, Dream gathered his belongings. He had a few rations left, going to the village would do him even more good. Clay has just a few gold coins left, he'd need to resupply soon.

After his Dream attire was washed and dried, he dawned it. He was no longer Clay, rather he was Dream. He swung his leather back over his shoulder and secured it. Once it was in place, he allowed his green cape the fall over his body. Soon his face was hidden behind his famous mask and his head was covered by the green hood.

The walk to the village was... Well to say the least, slow. The wound on his side had numbed him with pain, it throbbed and ached with each step he took. He traced back his steps from the previous night, finding his bloody hand prints along the way. It was days like this he yearned for comfort again. As he painfully made his way onward, his mind wondered away.

Last night, the hunter who had sworn to kill him, saved his life. Granted the hunter - George - didn't know it was Dream he was saving. It was a fun bit of cosmic irony. The boy meant to kill him, saving him. But the strangest part was, when he was laying against that tree, with nothing left to give, George sat beside him. George stayed beside him. It was so twisted. How could Clay have found comfort in George? The man who several hours pervious, tried to kill him?

He made it to the village at sun-high. It wasn't a very big village. In fact it was more like a neighborhood really. There was an Inn, a small market-place, a tavern or two and several small houses dotted about. Small groups of people stood around, with some strays walking up and down the dirt roads. It was rather peaceful today. That would change no doubt.

Once he was actually inside of the village, his hidden gaze immediately darted around, looking for the four men. So far, nothing. He strode in with confidence and with his head held high. His certain visitor wouldn't show his face until later, he had some time to kill.

Wondering around for a while, he stumbled across the potion maker's shack. It was small and dainty and looked as if a strong gust of wind could topple it over with ease. Dream grumbled and stepped inside. Prized animal heads and ingredients sat decorated the walls. A small boy dressed in a purple tunic sat behind the counter, writing on a piece of work paper.

"Ahem." Dream announced his presence with a cough.

The boy looked up, making eye contact with Dream. "Welcome to Purpled's Potions." He greeted with a sweet smile.

"Uh thanks kid. Wheres the potion maker?" He asked as he approached the counter.

"You're looking at him." The kid, who Dream assumed his name was Purpled said with pride. "What can I do you for, kind sir?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Two minor potions of healing and one vigorous." Dream said.

With a nod, Purpled hopped off his chair. As he did so, the door swing open and in walked a man. Dream didn't bother looking back, he just stepped to the side to allow the person to approach the same counter. Purpled paused and looked at the man.

"Hello, welcome to Purpled Potions. What can I do for you?" Purpled chirped the same monotone greeting.

"I was hoping you'd have any idea about this?" The man approached the counter and set a green rose on it.

Dream chuckled when he saw this. Using his peripheral vision, he looked at the man. His shaggy brown hair brushed from his face, his innocent rosy cheeks, the wired glasses on his nose.

"Let me get this gentleman's order and I'll be right with you." Purpled smiled and wondered into the back of the shop.

The two men stood there for a moment, enjoying to crisp silent. There was nothing tense about this situation, nothing awkward either. All was peaceful, until Dream spoke.

"You know very well the origin of that rose Bad. Why are you here?" Dream asked, his gazed locked forward.

Bad chuckled. "Oh you know me old friend, always looking deeper into situations. Always trying to learn something new." He purred.

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Ant's blade had blood. Figured either it was his, or he actually managed to hit you. Took my chances and bet that you'd seek a potion." Bad explained, his gaze also unmoving.

"Did I hurt him well? Will he live?" Dream asked sincerely. "Ember's hired a good set this time." Dream sighed.

"Ant'll be fine. A scar is a story, Dream. You should know that better than anyone." Bad lifted himself on his toes then back down. He repeated this action several times. "Ember usual hires a good man or two."

"Yes but... There's something different about them. You know it too Bad."

"Well I mean the fact she specifically sought out and hired Sapnap should tell you enough." Bad mumbled.

Dream frowned when Sapnaps name surfaced. "How'd she find him? Thought he disappeared?" He asked.

Bad thought for a second before speaking. "Well, he's made quite a name for himself as an entertainer actually. He competes in duels and tournaments quite often." Bad chuckled to himself. "You near gave it away with your advanced knowledge of Sapnap's weak spots."

Dream shrugged, biting his lip. "What about that George fellow?"

"George? I didn't know you knew his name good sir."

Dream but his tongue. "Well, you said his name during yesterday's encounter."

"Hm, that sounds like a mighty lie there Dream."

"What? Am I supposed to tell my enemy everything?" He teased, ending it with a sigh. Dream finally looked at him. "Will you tell them?" He asked.

"Would they believe me?"

"No, I suppose they wouldn't."

Purpled walked back out and placed the two small glass bottles and one large on, all three containing the same rose gold-ish liquid on the counter and held out his hand. Dream nodded and dropped sixteen gold coins into the palm of Purpled's hand. Dream placed his newly bought gear in his bag and he turned to Bad.

"Keep em safe for me." He mumbled. "I'll be at the tavern in an hour. Try not to be too suspicious." He grinned.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Bad chuckled. "You stay safe yourself."

Clay chuckled, smiling down at the shorter man. "Now that- that is all up to you my friend."

Dream smiled and walked from the shop. Once outside, he downed on of the minor healing. He felt the aching in his side cease and the energy return to his bones.