"Better day than I thought it'd be." He squeezed her in close, rubbing her back slowly up and down, tracing her spine and scar alike. "Natya did more than I expected her to do. The only real problem is what she said it was--they need real world experience." He stroked her side thoughtfully. "I think I'll send them out--just something simple. A patrol route through their towns, maybe, just to get them used to the walking and weight of weapons." He nuzzled into her hair and held her tight. "Take as many shirts as you want, though. And sleep well, okay? I love you. I love you, so much..."<br/><br/>Carson kept her close, his arms tight around her slender frame, and almost as soon as he let himself succumb to rest he sank deep, deep, deep. He found himself standing in the woods, surrounded shoulder-to-shoulder by hulking metal-clad soldiers. They didn't move or answer him when he demanded they step aside. So he shoved them. He pushed. He kicked. He punched. He screamed. They refused to move. He turned savage, tearing at their metal chests until his fingertips bled--and then he heard a voice and turned, and saw her laying in a pool of blood. Naked, her black hair floating over her body from head to toe, obscuring everything but her face and arms and the wound that gushed and filled the pool higher and higher, swallowing her up. She told him she loved him and he screamed at her to stay where she was but by the time he reached her the pool had swallowed her and he tipped headfirst into a deep, deep well of hot, fresh blood, and it poured down his nose and his mouth and his eyes and ears and it burned his scalp and seared his skin and burnt him until all he could feel was fire, a burn, a raging blaze that consumed everything he was until--<br/><br/>The Strider fell out of bed with a pained gasp, lurching onto the floor and staying frozen in place as he panted and tried to catch his breath. He reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on with shivering fingers. He had to stare at his own arms for a long time before he was convinced blood wasn't pouring out of his own skin. He sat with his back against the side of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, only for it to come away wet. He groaned softly--he barely realized it, but he was soaked in sweat. He swore under his breath and glanced back at Malia to make sure she was still asleep before he stood and went to the bathroom to shower and clean up.