Sierra was glad Tristan and decided to bring Brenna with him. How he could have left her she didn't know but they were all glad she was coming. Never tried to send to her but didn't always get a sending back. It was strange with domesticated dogs. But he had a playmate and that was what mattered.
Sleeping had been fitful for Tristan, Sierra didn't dare check in on his dreams. It was one thing to share them but Never said he had gone after a voice calling him. And it wasn't her business. If Elyse or Marta had called she probably would have gone too, or Calvin, but it wasn't something they did. Didn't even know if they could.
Sierra found herself curled up on the bed with Tristan but she Never and Brenna were overly active. She curled up on the floor with them for most of the night. They could have come up with them she was sure, but they wanted to play so it was easier to keep them wrangled instead of bouncing on the bed.
Morning came and Tristan was in the bathroom. The bed looked a mess - sweat soaked. She knocked on the bathroom door. "Everything okay Tristan?"
While Sierra spoke through the door, Tristan was peering into the mirror nervous of what he may see. His eyes burned gold, but his teeth were normal blunt squares. No sharp canines. No tusks. He ran his hands along his arms, then down his chest. The flesh was pink, if flushed. The inked images remained, as if they were imprinted in the soul. Six shapes made a circle from one long ribbon of black. Over his heart was a separate shape, that of the curved troll cross.
When he opened the door, Sierra could see exactly what he did.
“Something happened in the wolf dream,” he explained.
The door opened and Tristian stood bare chested with black ink etched on his skin. He had not had the ink in the dream, and his words echo'd a truth she must know -- he hadn't had them before. Sierra reached for him and ran her fingers of the new markings. "Did it hurt?" She wasn't sure how something like this could remain after a dream. "Did you go in too deep?" There were tales from the wolves about two-legged kin getting lost in the dream forever. Lost without a body -- dead to the outside world. At least that was the information Sierra got from the images. It could have been something else. But the wolves -- they remembered.
"No. It didn't hurt," he shook his head. As he pushed around her, he rummaged for a t-shirt and pulled it on hastily, burying the reminder of whatever it was. Tristan was admittedly naive in the wolf dream. Thorn Paw (and Nimeda) said as much. Sierra implied he was a newborn pup there. The frustration rumbled inside like a distant storm. As he heated water, he knew he was being isolationist. The lonely life of his uncle on that hillside was far less complicated than interacting with people. Maybe his trollish uncle had the right idea.
"Did you know something like this could happen? What if you were hurt while dreaming?"
He prepared coffee while they talked, offering her a cup once it was ready.
He seemed upset.Sierra didn't think he was angry at her -- maybe himself. Something had happened in the dream. He busied himself making coffee. It smelled wonderful, but she couldn't help but pick out Tristan's emotions from the lingering smells. The pups were watching from their space on the floor. Sierra wished she could speak with Bre. The poor pup must feel left out even though Never tried to speak to her all the time.
"Sorta. The wolves warn of it -- about not not fully going into the dream. It's dangerous. If you are there fully you can die. We all learn this the hard way if we do not have someone to show us the way." Even little pups like Never needed a guide -- they had instinct, but that wasn't always enough.
"I cut myself on an arrow once in the dream and woke up bleeding, but I had Snow with me to teach me to be careful. But he let me hurt myself so I'd learn. He was still a pup himself, but before his mother had died he's been taught the same way. A bee stung his nose." Sierra automatically relayed the images but Tristan couldn't hear her, but Never sent back his own response -- his own be sting. "Never says he was stung too in the dream."
Sierra took the cup from Tristan when it was ready and warmed her hands on the cup. "Do you want to talk about what happened in the dream?" Sierra didn't mention that she's slept on the floor because of his movements. He would take it the wrong way and it felt as if maybe she should have known he was too far in the dream. She was not the wise wolf they needed. Sierra missed Snow -- he'd been a pup, but wolves grow so much faster than humans. Their instints taught them more -- but it was the shared memories that impacted it more. Never was still learning -- every night he met with Alpha and they ran through the woods of their home and he learned as wolf learns. Sierra felt bad for taking him from there. But he wanted to come she remembered.
His jaw dropped. The dream was far more real than he ever considered. Thorn Paw warned him. Sierra warned him. But he didn’t believe it. How could what happened in his mind while sleeping translate to the skin while awake?
He sank to the edge of the bed. His hair splayed around his face, loose and unkempt from the animated night. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. But we need to leave. Right now. I just don’t know where to go.”
He shot up suddenly to retrieve the data pad to the internet. He searched:
Deepest lake in the world.
The dream had clearly bothered Tristan, or maybe it was the after effects. Sierra watched as Tristan was frustrated and confused and sank to the bed. Only moments later to shoot up and head for the data pad.
Sierra had never been good with people, but with pack she knew how things went. She could comfort him if nothing else. Sierra stood behind Tristan and put her head against his back. She couldn't look over his shoulder or be of much help she didn't know what he was looking for. "You don't have to save everyone Tristan." she whispered. "Wherever we are going I'm with you. But first you wanted to rush off to Moscow and save a girl in a mental hospital. And now you want to rush off someplace else because of another dream. Whatever has a hold of you, could be playing with you. Giving you impossible things to do. We aren't the only ones in the dreams."
Sierra walked away. "Ask the wolves if they know the place you seek. I'm sure they will be more help than the internet." She sat down with the sleeping pups and rubbed their heads. "We'll go wherever you want, as long as you still want us to come with you that is." She added. Sierra wished she could talk with Tristan like she could never, but sadly that wasn't the case.
“The wolves?!” He demanded. “Because the wolves are so damn smart?!” His bite snapped hard, but he knew Sierra wasn’t the one he wanted to bite. He rubbed his chest as if the heart beneath ached, but he knew the burn was only skin-deep. Tristan shook his head, shaking the feeling aside, even as the answer arose.
A long time passed before he spoke again. “You’re right. We’re not the only ones in the dream,” he admitted.
Then, he turned away from the screen in defeat. He had his answer: the name of the lake was easy to find. But many questions stirred up the silt in the bottom of his brain. “I met a girl,” he began hesitantly. “I’ve seen her before. She’s not dangerous, though.”
Tristan snapped at her and her instant reaction was to snarl back, but she didn't. She remembered she was human and not wolf. Though she was sure Never wanted to respond in her defense. Was it worth it? He was just a pup, who did not listen to the warnings of the pack. Someone had shown him things. Someone was tempting him. Someone...
Sierra wasn't the teacher, she was just a pup. She was a photographer with no life experiences. The most she'd ever done was find her way to Moscow. She'd been floundering ever since. The pack was easier. Sierra looked off in the direction they had come before all this. The pack, the ancient ones. That was where she belonged.
Tristan's voice pulled her back from her roamings and she looked at him from across the room. The wolves were close, and they bid her welcome. But he wanted to go. First to Moscow, then someplace else. Tristan admitted to meeting another as if that hadn't been obvious to Sierra. Sierra withdrew her gaze from Tristan and ran her fingers through Never's fur. He was such a good pup. "She's the one bidding you to Moscow to save a girl. Now she's pushing you towards another place. She must have a great power over you." Sierra didn't tell Tristan she'd left the bed they had shared earlier because of his dreams. She didn't much care in that moment. Sierra's eyes flicked up in the direction of the pack and she thought about going back, letting Tristan do what he wanted to do. Sierra sighed. "Be careful Tristan, not all those that walk the dream are good even if they don't seem dangerous. Where are we going?"
Could Sierra be right? Was Nimeda dangerous? She lured him to the lake, but the only thing that happened was him learning to dribble bubbles between his teeth. They found the creature and its egg, but if they were in danger, Tristan did not sense it. Of course, there was what happened afterward, which Tristan initiated. Could the marks have been Nimeda’s doing? Had she urged him to kill his Uncle and awaken the troll within?
Maybe they shouldn’t go? How could Tristan know what he would do if put in a similar position. A knot twisted in his chest, and he gently took up Sierra’s hand. “You’re right. I am sorry. Would you forgive me?” he looked at her with eyes of pleading fire.