Dream Catcher

I hold my breath waiting for the inevitable but it never comes. Instead, I wake shaken and feverish, how many times must I dream the same thing? How many times will I wake unable to change the past that haunts me even in wake? Not wanting to wake anyone I take my shadow form and head outside. The sun's barely breaking over the horizon casting the sky in shades of red and orange with tinges of yellow.

"Couldn't sleep?" Ren asks from his perch atop an oak move to sit next to him the branches obscuring us from untrained eyes.

"How do you do it?" I ask taking his calloused hand into my own.

"Sleep," he smirks, "usually with some pretty thing by my side." I pull my hand away and he chuckles trapping me in his warm embrace, "it never gets easy but at some point, in time you learn to make peace with your demons less they devour you."

"How old were you?"

"My first kill?"

"Yeah."

"Nine, I was considered a prodigy so my father tossed me onto the battlefield," he exhales before continuing, "my mother was mortal she died of sadness. To my mother the way immortal children are upbrought was barbaric, she pleaded but my father wouldn't have it."

"So, you never saw her again?"

"Right before she crossed into the Underworld, she came to me, she was so lovely and warm. Always smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. Mother loved fairytales so when she met my father, she had no problem letting him whisk her away."

"She wasn't from our world?" I look up to find him lost in memory.

"No, in her world we are nothing but myth living in shadows, some mortals rule themselves through something call a democracy, they believe in science over magic and tend to lack faith."

"How do you know?" I run a hand through his glossy black hair.

"Mama would tell my brother and I stories of her world of wars and injustice," he looks down at me. He takes a deep breath before resting his forehead against my own closing his eyes he continues, "she also told us of the beauty and wonders of her world, of towards made of glass that could practically reach the heavens all man-made. No magic."

"Could we go there?" at my question he opens his eyes sadness fills them.

"It is now known as the Nether Realm."

"The prison world?"

"Yes," he says letting me go and pointing with his chin towards the cave. Pearl emerges squinting in the bright sunlight. Before Pearl can look up Ren's gone leaving me to ponder my own misery.

"Ruby!" Pearl calls out just as I jump landing in front of her. She jumps back one hand going to her heart the other to the blade strapped to her hip.

"Caught you," I say, having masked my scent the moment I found Ren, "what took you so long? My ass was going numb."

"Some of us actually sleep," She says hand still on the hilt of her blade.

"What, gonna skin me alive?" I tease her twirling one of her multicolored braids on my index finger.

"That's gross only you would think that," she bats my hand away walking towards the oak.

"What else can you do with a knife Pearl?"

"Meany things Ruby," she turns to face me a knowing smile playing on her face. I shake my head and she just shrugs, "you could use a knife to skin a fish."

We start to circle each other, "Like you would ever do that, you hate cooking."

"You could use it to carve your lovers' initials on a tree," Pearl continues her steps barely faltering.

"Who would do such a thing?" I ask, "The poor tree, that Dryad would surely come after someone."

"Did someone say Dryad?" Uncle Ambrose asks emerging from the cave with a stretch.

I stop circling Pearl and take Uncle Ambrose's arm into my own, "Uncle Brose would you ever carve your lover's initials into a tree?" I ask.

The look he gives me is priceless, "you two leave the tree's alone, you should respect them they are our life source."

"Is that why your home is made of stone?"

"No, my home is made of stone because it's a sturdier material, not that wood isn't sturdy," he says looking around.

"I'm sure the Dryad you crossed has long since moved on," I say, "although they do have long memories don't, they?"

"Ruby," Pearl warns as Raksha and Aunt Sonia join us.

"What are they teasing you about this time?" Aunt Sonia asks.

"Is it teasing if it's true?" I ask, picking up on the sound of hooves and wheels turning against dirt and stone. "Ren," I send.

"Miss me," he sends back.

"Not really, where are you?"

"By the river, why?"

"We have company."

The carriage draws near the smell of mortals fills the air two females and three males. Raksha shakes her head, motioning we go up into the trees rather than towards the carriage.

"Stay above," I send Ren.

"Their mortal," he sends a few seconds later.

"We noticed."

The mortal males are mercenaries from the looks of them. One seems to be in his mid-forties the one driving the carriage looks to be around twenty the youngest of the three. The third rides on the side his face covered by a silver mask.

"I don't think their escort," I send Raksha, "they left their left completely unattended."

"Their either overly confident, or stupid," Raksha sends.

"Isn't it the same thing?" I send back just as the carriage wheel gets stuck against a stone.

The women inside don't make a sound, I send a shadow down keeping close to the ground and halt the cart. The horses try to move forward but it's useless the shadow hand holds the carriage in place.

"What is it?" the older mercenary asks.

"I don't know," the driver answers, "the horses can't move forward."

The one in the silver mask grunts dismounting his horse he starts skimming the wheels. I hide the shadow under the carriage letting it seep into a crack. Two females lay unconscious atop each other their hands and feet are bound their faces swollen their dresses torn there's hardly any point to their garments.

"Not yet," Raksha sends probably reading my next move. The one with the silver mask takes out a whip and hits the horses startling them they rise on their hind legs trying to take off. I take control of the carriage once more causing it to turn to the side. The silver faced mercenary barely has time to move as the carriage topples over his caught between the shattered carriage and the hooves of his startle horse that comes down on his chest hard enough for his rib cage to splinter into his heart.