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Sleep does not come easy to anyone that night. The Elders' words, though
not new, bring back the grisly imaginings of nightmares all too real
for the villagers. Everyone in the village has lost someone they knew
in the last three years; it's a rare person that hasn't lost someone
in their own direct family by the time he begins to work with the
adults. Annabelle tosses fretfully at her husband's side, moaning
softly as the dreams visit her. Lawrence strokes her hot skin gently,
but he knows from experience that it does no good to wake her. She
will just return to her dreams of shadows that chase her in a woods
that stinks of blood. Eventually, he goes to sleep. Usually he doesn't
remember his dreams, but this one is unusually vivid. He is running,
low to the ground. He feels himself on all fours, and this is totally
natural. In fact, he feels strong, fast. Free. He is chasing
something. Something that stumbles ahead of him. The prey-smell is
strong in his nose. He leaps and bites. Blood spills in his mouth, but
he still can't tell what the prey is. He doesn't care. He leans back
his head and howls in triumph. He is one of them. The monsters. They
are his brothers.

Lawrence's eyes snap wide open and he bolts straight up in bed as the
savage imagery of the bloodthirsty howl of triumph dances through his
mind. Gasping for breath, he cries out a noise of primal fear,
heedless of the woman sleeping beside him.

Louisa's sleepy voice says, "What is it, Lawrence?" Though the human
Lawrence would probably not have immediately keyed on who it is,
somehow he knows. He knows who she is. Louisa. It's wrong that they're
together. His human mind calls for his wife, but somehow that's not
all the answer.

Fear left from the dream gives way to astonishment, then panic. Lawrence
leaps out of the bed and whirls to regard the woman. "H-how did you
get here?" he demands, his voice wavering and cracking. "W-where's
Annabelle?"

Louisa's dark brown eyes fill with tears as Lawrence jumps away from
her. She sits up and stretches her hands out. "Don't push me away,"
she says. She gets up, still holding her hands out. "Lawrence, it's
me." She touches him, and Louisa's short auburn hair seems to grow and
darken, becoming Annabelle's dark curls. Her voice changes in pitch,
becoming the wife's voice he knows so well. "It's Annabelle."

Lawrence swallows, the transformation from one woman to another
apparently doing little to reassure him. He continues to gasp for
breath, just the near side of hysteria, for several long moments
before daring to speak a rough-formed word: "Nightmare."

Annabelle reaches up to put her arms around Lawrence. She comforts him
like a child. "Shhhh. It's okay. You're awake." At the last word,
Lawrence has a stomach-wrenching sensation, the one of realizing dream
within dream within dream. After a moment, it is gone.

Lawrence stands still in his wife's arms for a long time in an effort to
gather wits before daring to speak again. Finally, after a thick
swallow, he puts his hands on Annabelle's shoulders and says, quietly,
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Annabelle smiles lovingly at her husband and shakes her head. Her hair,
mussed from sleep, falls in her face. "As many dreams as I have,
you're entitled to my comfort for once."

Lawrence exhales slowly, finally permitting himself to relax a bit.
After withdrawing slowly from his wife's embrace, he sits down on the
edge of the bed. "You should go back to sleep now," he mumbles. "I'll
be fine."

Annabelle shakes her head. "I wouldn't be able to see you at all if the
sun weren't up," she says ruefully. "The rocks await."

Another exhalation of breath, and Lawrence stands again. While searching
for clothes, he asks of Annabelle, "Do you ever wonder why they do it?
There must be a reason why they put us through this."

Annabelle's dark eyes grow troubled as she nods. "Wonder, yes." She
turns to pull on more clothes herself, especially taking time with her
rough boots. "I never know why, though. My granny had stories of them
doing this to her granny. It's like it'll never end."

You paged Lawrence with 'A thought surfaces: it will.'.

"It will, someday," Lawrence says quietly, his gaze wandering to the
door. "Maybe when enough of us stop fearing them and stand against
them."

Annabelle looks into her husband's face, fear barely contained. "You
remember what happened last time anyone tried to fight them."

Lawrence closes his eyes and bows his head as he nods slightly. "I
know," he mutters. "But we can't just... accept this. We shouldn't
have to live like this, forever in fear for our lives. It's... not
right. Sometimes, I think, it is more important to die on your feet
than continue to live on your knees. And that's where we are now, on
our knees."

Annabelle steps forward to take her husband's hands. She shakes her head
slightly, the skin around her eyes puckered in worry. "You're my
husband, and we will do what you decide. But Lawrence, you've never
hit me for insolence, so I'll tell you. I don't want you to die, on
your feet or not."

A small smile springs to Lawrence's mouth. "I don't want to die either,"
he says softly. "But when I watch you suffer with these dreams, when I
see you afraid for your life... it makes me wonder whether this is
truly living at all, or if it is just passing time while waiting to
die. You deserve more. You deserve better. You deserve to live without
being afraid all the time, without those dreams."

A small smile touches his wife's lips. "I just hope I deserve to live
with you until we're both old and grey."

Dressed, Lawrence answers his wife with just a smile. "Let's get to
work."

As the pair grab a quick bite to eat and join the others already in the
fields, they hear a distressing rumor. Apparently Louisa and her
betrothed Richard disappeared in the night, though there were no
tracks of monsters or any noises. Both families are distraught, but
someone says that things were also missing.

"Probably eloped together," Lawrence comments to his wife during a
private moment. "Odd time of the month to do it, though."

Annabelle nods. "And to leave the village. Even hunters worry, this
close. Their wedding wasn't so far away that it would be worth running
to the woods to have sex." Though not close to the younger woman,
Annabelle does seem worried for Louisa.

Lawrence picks up on his wife's demeanor. "Do you want to go looking for
them?"

Annabelle shakes her head. "No." She drops her voice where the others in
the field can't hear. "If they got them, we can't help. It's like
hearing the screams. I just...wish them well."

Lawrence nods an assent, unwilling to press Annabelle further. He works
dutifully throughout the day, once again striving to till the soil
until it will accept enough crop to help feed the village.

Time passes, and a young boy by the name of Timothy brings water to the
workers. He seems strangly upset as he thrusts the rude cup at
Lawrence, first. "Got to come to the town at noon."

"What for?" Lawrence demands, his eyes darting to Annabelle for a
moment.

Annabelle watches Timothy with strain in her face. The boy's next words
aren't about the missing lovers, though, but a new crisis. "Adam. The
tanner's son. He's been possessed by a wolf spirit from his dreams.
Cinabar is going to drive it out." The boy's hands actually shake,
sloshing the water in his bucket before he sets it down. "The potter's
watching the door. Says Adam screamed out that he wasn't one of the
ones that killed his mother. Like he was arguing."

Uncertainty flickers through Lawrence's expression. "Why do we need to
be there?" he asks of the boy. "Am I supposed to help hold him down?
Surely his father can do that."

Timothy shakes his head again. "Sh-sh-she's afraid other people may have
been possessed, since Richard and Louisa ran off to the woods. She
says everyone has to be there, 'cause if they have a wolf in them,
it'll come out when it sees the ritual."

Lawrence shakes his head, and spits to one side in disgust. "This is the
same woman who tells us to smear goat blood on our doors to keep us
from being killed by the monsters -- which hasn't worked yet, and
isn't going to suddenly start working anytime soon."

Annabelle pales further at Lawrence's words. Timothy looks over his
shoulder, then hurriedly gives Annabelle a drink. He leaves as soon as
she presses the rough cup back in his hands.

Lawrence shakes his head again, and, perhaps feeling his wife's
trepidation, exhales a small, resigned breath. "We'll go," he
announces quietly.

Annabelle nods slightly. She bends over one of the stones, so she isn't
looking Lawrence in the face. "I get frightened when you say things
like that. She knows the evil eye."

Lawrence gives Annabelle's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before
returning to work. When the sun is high in the sky, at the noontime
hour, he sets his tools down and, with some small amount of
trepidation, gathers his wife to attend the meeting at Cinabar's home.

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