Chapter 49

DALLIN WAS already sitting up, body still vibrating from its lurch into wakefulness. His chest was heaving--hard, shallow breaths sucking in and out like he'd just run five miles in his sleep--and his hands were shaking. He drew up his knees and lowered his face into his hands.

"Fuck." His voice trembled. He was being absurd.

He'd never had such a vivid dream in all his life. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he *had* dreamed. And the things he'd seen, felt--

He shook his head. "Don't even think about it. It wasn't real, you're just spooked by all the... everything."

Except.

No. *No.* Shamans weaving little spells was one thing, but... but.... Well, and there had been Wil and that man in the cell....

A bit of a shudder he couldn't suppress, and Dallin rubbed at his face, peered around in the low, uncertain light from the dying fire, rubbed sleep-blurry eyes, and blinked 'til his vision cleared. He shot his gaze to the bed. Wil was still sleeping, thank the--