After a few seconds, the horse snorted and started forward. Liam almost felt as if the whole incident had been only a figment of his imagination. Perhaps it actually was. God knew he’d had enough screwed up dreams about it recently. At any rate, he didn’t find any physical evidence the least bit unusual and finally turned to make his way back down to the spring.

* * * *

He came awake suddenly, with a start. Dim memories skittered along the edges of his mind but refused to take shape and become solid. He glanced around, not recognizing the place where he lay, warmly cushioned in thick fur robes and supported by a pallet of straw scented with sweet herbs that shifted gently when he moved. A warm body pressed near him on the right, the side away from the wall, which appeared to be stone chinked with moss and mud. A normal hut then, but still not one he knew.

Where am I?Panic welled for a moment as one image became almost painfully clear.

The Soul-Eater.