Athson sat up, his chest heaving. That was too real. His ears rang with the eagle’s screams and his face burned with the rush of frigid wind. What were those words? Something about a bow? He shook his head. Could that be it?

Soul’s-ease – he needed it. No. He’d forgotten it at the ranger station. He’d been so careless.

His gut knotted at Eagle’s Aerie glowing beneath the moon. He remembered the star falling, the knife dripping with blood. His knife. He’d bought it from that Rokan merchant weeks ago and left it in Auguron with Heth and Cireena. He didn’t know why. Athson shut his eyes and the weapon gleamed with malevolence.

He scrambled to his feet beside the low campfire. The sensation of wind scouring his face while falling clung to his mind. He exhaled. “A dream, nothing more.”

Spark flattened his ears and his tail remained…