I awoke, realizing the failure was a dream. I groaned, sitting up, and soon was bolting out the tent. I burst through the forest, pausing to sit on a rock by the river.

Nothing.

It had been a dream.

I wished it wasn’t.

Why? Why having these dreams now? I wondered. I sat on the rock awhile, memories roaming my mind. I shivered in the early morning chill, crying quietly. It was all a dream. All a dream. Layra wasn’t alive.

I sat by the creek for hours, the sun rose and lit the ice and snow like a torch. The ice on the creek began to pop.

I soon stood, and silently walked into the forest.

Snow slid from the trees, littering the ground. The creek’s sound soon faded.

I raced, hearng a twig snap and a growl. I slid into camp, panting, and fell to the ground.

“Fleck!” Wilfred exclaimed, racing forward. “Thank goodness your’e hear!”

“I-“

“Come! Hurry! Smalls wants to attack the slave camp!” at those words, I stiffened, straightened my uniform, and followed Wilfred.

“Your Highness! Please, do not do this foolish thing!” Lord Blackstar cried.

“What chance do I have?” Smalls asked.

“To not attack!” I cried. Smalls looked at me in bubbling anger, and stormed out of the tent. I followed him, feeling frustration mount.

“Go back!” Smalls cried, turning at the forest’s edge.

“No!” I yelled, but before I could go on, Smalls was racing ahead. I followed him through dense forest, over branches and logs, through thickets, over melting snow.

We burst onto a ridge, finding myself in the Shade Hills.

“If your not up to it, Go back!” Smalls exclaimed.

“No!” I cried. He drew his sword, inching forward.

“Sorry, Fleck.”

“Wait! If you wait we can come back with an army!” I cried.

“True!” Smalls cried, suddenly changing his mind and sheathing his blade.

We turned to leave, but before getting that far, we heard a terrifying screech.

A hawk.

We turned quickly, drawing our blades. An army of foes met us.

As they charged forward, I shouted.

“Help!”

yep. don't be mad.. :)

-Fleck