Matthew tosses and turns in bed, thinking about the encounter with the forest spirit. He tries to puzzle out why Taylor had suddenly taken out his rage on a powerful spirit, but when sleep finally does take him, he is no closer to understanding.
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Matthew tosses and turns in bed, thinking about the encounter with the forest spirit. He tries to puzzle out why Taylor had suddenly taken out his rage on a powerful spirit, but when sleep finally does take him, he is no closer to understanding.
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He dreams, dreams of a chessboard. Only now its not just the pieces that are seperated, but the squares themselves are far and distant from each other, each on a different plane. In the distance, he sees a caramel colored opponent begin arraying his forces to attack the scattered and disparate. The Knight is no longer sharpening the kings' sword, and he takes it up, and throws it, where it lands, you don't know, as you hear the sounds of battle drown everything else out.
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Matthew jerks awake. Couldn't my dreams give me good news, just once? It doesn't take long for the implications to sink in. He grabs his cell phone and begins texting.
Of Roman Sleep
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