Army Dreamers.
1090 Words
Winter’s POV:
The door creaked open slowly, the sound soft but impossibly loud in the silence of the room.
My pulse jumps before I can stop it, my own body still feeling heavy and unfamiliar to me.
For half a second I could not move. I can't breathe. Every part of me waits to see who's on the other side.
I sense him before his foot lands inside.
Derrick.
Relief washed through me and I relax back into the pillows. The tension from before leaves, as though something deep inside me recognized safety before my mind could catch up.
“Derrick,” I breathed, my voice hoarse and thinner than I expected.
He crosses the room quickly, concern written plainly across his face, his usual composure replaced by something more open, more human. His eyes moved over me in a rapid scan, as if trying to search for something.
“You are awake,” he said, the words quiet but filled with unmistakable relief. “How are you feeling?”
I try to answer immediately, but the question felt far more complicated than it should have.
My body ached in many weird ways. My head pulsed with a dull throb that made thinking a hassle. Even my magic felt different, as though it had retreated into some guarded corner of myself.
“I do not know,” I admitted. “Everything feels sore. And my head…”
He was already beside the bed, already leaning closer. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he sat, his presence alone making my chest tighten unexpectedly. His hand hovers for a bit before resting gently against my forehead.
The feel of his hand made me gasp.
Not because it was rough. It was the opposite. Warm, steady and careful. But his touch awakens something in me, my senses suddenly sharper, making my thoughts a fleeting thing.
I became aware of everything all at once.
The warmth of his skin. The faint scent of cedar that clung to him. It was different than Keon's, his was a heavy oud that made my breath light.
“You are still warm,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.
“I was attacked, was I not?” The words left my mouth before I fully decided to say them.
His hand stilled.
For a brief moment something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable, before his usual calm returned.
“You were found injured.”
Found.
The answer settled oddly in my mind, but my aching head made it difficult to grasp why. I frowned slightly, trying to piece together memories that refused to come together properly.
“I remember walking,” I said slowly. “And then… I do not know. It is blank.”
Derrick’s gaze softened, his hand moving away from my forehead. “You have been unconscious for more than a day. That alone can disorient anyone.”
More than a day.
That realization sent a small wave of unease through me. My fingers tightened against the sheets.
“Who carried me here?”
I remember being carried. I'm almost sure if it. I remember strong arms. The sensation of being lifted. The warmth that had surrounded me before everything dissolved into darkness.
Derrick answers me.
“I brought you here.”
The response was immediate, smooth, entirely untroubled. I latched onto it instantly, relief blooming in my chest with surprising intensity.
But how could he have brought me here if he wasn't around?
I direct the thought to him as a question. “I thought you-”
“I was already on my way back when the attack happened.”
Of course he was.
It made sense. It should have made sense. Yet something about it refused to sit comfortably in my mind.
Gratitude surges through me before doubt could even form.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Something shifted in his eyes again, subtle enough that I thought I imagined it, but he only gave a small nod. “There is no need for that.”
“How did you even know where I was?”
This time he did pause, but only briefly.
“I knew something was wrong. Our bond remember?”
The answer was simple, yet it carried a weight that settled deep in my chest. The bond. It had to be the bond. That strange invisible connection that refused to let either of them be entirely unaware of me.
What about Keon then?
He was right in the house when the attack happened.
Did he know and deliberately refuse? Or had Derrick gotten to me first?
My head pounds as questions collide faster than I can answer.
I'll answer all of them later, one at a time first.
I swallowed, emotions stirring uncomfortably. “I thought… I thought I was alone.”
“You were,” he said quietly.
A faint shiver ran through me at the confirmation, my mind recoiling from the implication. Someone had attacked me. Someone had hurt me, and I had no idea who.
It was probably a wolf.
Derrick’s attention shifted back to my body, his eyes narrowing slightly as though assessing something unseen. “The doctor examined you earlier.”
My stomach tightened. “Earlier?”
“While you were still unconscious. He healed what he could.”
Healed.
I glanced down instinctively, only now realizing that although I was aching, I had no visible bruises.
“He cannot fully treat witches,” Derrick continued. “You’re a witch. Your sister will need to examine you when she arrives.”
My heart beats loudly in my chest.
“My sister?” As in Ariana?
“She was informed.”
A knot of emotions twists inside me at once. Fear, dread and unease.
Her last words to me echoed unpleasantly in my memory, her warnings, of everything my life had become.
Before I could respond, Derrick leaned closer again, his attention sharpening.
“Still,” he murmured, his voice low and focused,
“I would rather check for myself.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“Derrick what are you?-”
“Relax mate, I just want to make sure you're okay.” His hand goes to the back of my dress, undoing the ribbon holding it up. A cool breeze blows my back.
I'm suddenly aware of everything all at once, from how the moonlight makes his eyes shine, and how pale I look in the room, something sparks inside me.
And then he pulls on my dress.
- Writer
