I am sitting in a small room in Tooley (most everything is small here). It is rather dark, but I will do my best to write this dream down before I forget it.

I was sleeping soundly, dreaming about the journey I have been on. It was a dream like most dreams, disjointed and with juxtapositions that made no sense. I was standing on the hill at Greenhill, surrounded by wild flowers when the troll from the Bore popped through the earth at my feet and began to drag me into the ground with him. I was holding Naiilo's reins and he was pulling backward when he slipped off of the cliff into the fog. I cried out for help, and I looked around and all of the Winged Foxes, Uncle Max and Alfred were there, but it was as though they couldn't see or hear me. I heard music then, like the music of the Wind Shrine. I looked up and saw the Angel of Death. She was gazing sadly at me, her arms outstretched, but as I reached toward her, I saw that she was looking behind me at something. I turned my head and saw another angel, floating toward the first. But wait, the angel had Lia's face. She passed by me and kissed my cheek, and then she and the Angel of Death swirled off into the mist and the troll pulled me beneath the sod.

I woke up in terror, sweating and shaking, the taste of earth still in my mouth.

I fear for my love, but know that no one will think that this dream was any more than my fevered imagination, primed by my fear. I won't tell them. Perhaps it was just a dream. Perhaps.