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Old 09-08-2007, 08:15 PM   #89
mark12_30
Stormdancer of Doom
 
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White Tree

The baying of a hound teased at the edges of her thought. Aroo, aroo, the hound called. Avarien half smiled, thinking of his warm red tongue, lolling as he ran with his nose along the ground... faithful hound. Tirrel.

But no, he had gone on, many winters ago. She frowned. Voices-- the cold woman had left, the hound -- what hound was it then? Avarien frowned, and smiled, and frowned again. And then came a voice, and a touch.

Ravion.

Peace flooded through her, and she knew she was safe, safer than she had hoped to be again. She sank into the sound of his voice.

...Voices, Avarien heard voices. The madwoman, the hound, many different voices.

No matter. Ravion is here. All is well.

Avarien wondered briefly who Ravion was, and what he had to do with the hound, but the fever was too strong, and weakened her, and she slipped into silence for a moment; and wondered, too, at the strange peace which enveloped her even in the fever. She missed Roheryn, and reached out to touch his mind. He grazed nearby. Briefly she called him; she saw that he raised his head, and knew he would find her. And then she slipped, herself, into the strange peace that had surrounded her. How had faithful old Tirrel found her after so many long years? Had he not perished in the winter at a good old age? The fever grew stronger; she fought it, but felt herself slipping into sleep again.

Ravion, Ravion. All will be well.

Who was Ravion? There were many voices outside; why this one, Avarien wondered, why this Ravion... I must know. Nimrodel, who is this Ravion?

Nay, I know of no Ravion.

He brings aid.

I know him not. But take his aid an ye choose.

Stung at her rebuke, Avarien writhed. But Nimrodel was far, Ravion was near, and the fever was too strong. She let sleep take her, and as she sank into darkness, one more thought fluttered past.

Ravion. All will be well.

Last edited by mark12_30; 09-12-2007 at 07:50 PM.
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