[ WP ] `` I have the strangest dreams when I 'm awake . ''

*Some men fought monsters. Others fought their demons. * 
 
 He started screaming sometime around four, when everything was asleep or else returning to their nests and dens. The waxing moon was still high in the heavens, and all the stars were still shining in their multitudes. The cloudy band of the Milky Way still swirled above their heads. It was beautiful. A pity then that the moment was torn to shreds. 
 
 Faith sat inside her sleeping bag, the heavy fur lined sack drawn up around her shoulders as she stared at the moaning, writhing shape that was her guardian. She had been dreaming of home, of soft silk sheets and real food and clean clothes. Though it seemed as if home was just out of her reach at least she was happy when she dreamed. 
 
 She been torn from her slumber by his cries, his limbs thrashing against some invisible assailant. Faith woke in a panic, her eyes scanning for danger before the realization hit her. Then she became annoyed. For two weeks it had been like this, every night Hilary Flint tossed and turned and screamed like a man being skinned alive. And every morning, when dawn had finally arrived and he rose from his sleep he'd pointedly avoid mentioning what had transpired. This morning, Faith promised herself, she'd get to the bottom of why. 
 
 -- - 
 
 Scant hours later, once Flint had subsided in his screams and both had finally settled down, they rose up to face the day. Each performed their morning ablutions. The pot of oatmeal they'd placed in the coals was ready by then, and they helped themselves to a bowl each, steadily feeding themselves in preparation for the day's journey ahead. Flint said nothing as he spooned another helping of gruel, glancing down at the map resting on his knee. Faith cleared her throat. 
 
 `` Did you sleep well?'' she asked. 
 
 Flint swallowed and took sip of his chicory. `` Better than usual. You?'' 
 
 `` Well enough,'' Faith answered, smoothing out the wrinkles of her ankle length robes. `` Though it seemed as if you were making a great deal of noise last night.'' 
 
 `` Sorry. I'm told I grind my teeth when I sleep.'' Which was a partial truth if a sidestepping one. Faith hid a twitch of annoyance behind a demure mask. 
 
 `` I can not help but notice you seem... unwell some nights. Do n't you ever have pleasant dreams?'' 
 
 Flint met her gaze with his own. His green-grey eyes were cold. 
 
 `` Never.'' 
 
 He took another bite of oatmeal after saying that, his attention returning to his map. Faith said nothing as she sat, still watching him as she ate. Nearby their horses were busy with their own breakfasts, the small piles of corn and oats spilled out in front of their picket line. Finishing his bowl, he licked it clean and thrust it out towards Faith. 
 
 `` Clean this,'' he said rising from his seat. `` I'll finish up packing the horses.'' 
 
 He turned to go, but paused a few paces away from her and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were not unkind. 
 
 `` If you believe in any gods, may you pray you never have to do what I have done.'' 
 
 With that he turned and walked over to the horses, leaving Faith to ponder at his words. 
 

