[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
Thom stared at me silently for a few seconds, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I had a dream last night,” he said quietly.
That sent a chill down my spine. “What kind of dream?”
“The kind that scares the crap out of me,” he murmured, closing his eyes and leaning back. I bit my lip, working my shoes off and stretching out next to him, gently wrapping my arms around him as he rested his cheek against my head. “The kind that we write down but don’t want to write down.”
“Did you write it down?” I asked in a whisper.
“Not yet,” he said. “I will. I just—I needed to think. I needed to get a little distance and perspective and try to sort out what I saw.”
“What did you see?” I asked softly.
“A battle,” he murmured, staring at the wall. “Our friends on the wall. Your brother was giving orders. It—I don’t know how long from now it’ll be. I didn’t see you or I there. It was cold but there wasn’t snow. The wind was bitter. There was an army out there, marching—coming. It was huge. I remember wondering how they’d survive it, how they’d turn them back.”
“Did you see how they did it?”
Thom shook his head slightly. “No. I woke up when the first volley of arrows was loosed. It—I don’t want to think about it but I have to, you know? How do we defend against things like that? Whatever magic we’re learning to muster—that’s not always going to be a solution. We’re not going to keep getting lucky.”
“No, we’re not,” I agreed. My arms tightened slightly. I could understand why he didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t, either. But at the same time, I knew he would keep thinking about it, wouldn’t stop until he’d come up with a solution.
That was Thom, it was what he did. It was part of why I loved him.
It was also something that I was terrified would kill him someday.
