23ish

An hour later, Tsuda helped Mede into her bed; the hammock was strung between two pillars in the garden. Most Astaldak children slept outside, but moved indoors to sleep after reaching adulthood. It took a few moments for the usually nimble girl to enter the hammock, but it was done in the end, and Tsuda seated herself on a small bench close to the bed.
The two sat silently for a while, each dwelling upon her own thoughts. Tsuda didn’t want to tire Mede, but didn’t want to leave her alone, either. Her father was a scholar, and spent such long days in the temples that he often spent the night there, sleeping in the room provided for visitors, and those in need of assistance; Mede’s mother had died years before, shortly after they came to Leti. Mede had once told her that her mother had died of a broken heart, living so far from her homeland. She explained that they had lived in Ersa until she was about four years of age, when he father moved to Leti, to study in the great temple. Tsuda idly wondered if he was studying history, and knew the stories of the war that Kio would never tell them.
The warmth of the afternoon added to the soothing scented breezes and began to lull her to sleep. She leaned against the back of the bench, and tilted her head back; her eyes slowly closed, and she dreamed.

Blood spilled on the sand, and turned to red lightning flickering on walls of stone. She turned to see a garden enclosed by high walls, and covered in little white flowers. Moonlight came like lightning, and the flowers turned to blood, blood spurting from a skull shattered by a blow. The red seeped into the sky and smoke rose across the ocean. The ocean tossed, rising above the horizon, and the green of its depths resolved into a pair of green eyes that blazed out of blackness.

She awoke with a start, biting back a cry; the garden was almost silent, except for the calls of birds and the creaking of the hammock as it swung gently in the breeze.

Mede’s thoughts whirled. She knew that the priests were in power in this part of the world, as in most others, but her father had not told her about the war. Why? Did he think that she had no need to know, that her own work was somehow unrelated. She sighed, and shifted her weight to make the hammock swing again. She had tried so many times to tell him about her work, but he still did not believe that she was serious. He believed that only time in the temples of Selidia could possibly enable a priestess to do the things she strove to do, but he had taught her more than enough, and she was a quick learner. She lay quietly, and closed her eyes. She moved back down, deeper into herself, letting go of her attachment to her current place and time. Down, down, down she swam into the murky waters of the past, and looked out of other eyes.

She saw a garden, enclosed by high walls, and a young girl standing on a stone pathway. The girl’s hair was dark, but her eyes shone brightly purple, and Mede reached out a hand to her. The girl shook her head, and walked away. Blood spilled upon the sand, and the girl stood over the fallen form of a man, clutching a rock edged in red. Mede stretched out her hand and called to her, but the girl smiled and turned away again. She felt warmth at her feet, and looked down to find herself standing in a pool of blood. Mede clutched her throat, and felt the pulse of life dim. As she fell into darkness, she heard the whistle of air as a sword swung down.

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she rose to the surface of her consciousness again. She heard Tsuda awake with a start, and reached out a hand over the edge of the hammock. “Tsuda, did you dream? It sounded like you dozed off for a moment there.” Tsuda took her friend’s hand, and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I did. It must have been a nightmare, look how much my hands are shaking!” Her dark hand clung to Mede’s pale one tightly, taking strength in her friend’s closeness and composure. Mede hung on to Tsuda’s hand, wanting to give comfort, but finding herself more in need of it than able to give it.

“Tsuda…”

“Yes?”

“What did you dream about?”

The stillness of the garden reigned for a few moments, then Tsuda spoke. “Oh…nothing of any interest. Just…random things…you know how dreams are. I saw the ocean, and smoke in the sky, and a garden. The garden had lots of the little winecups, I remember that. And blood.” She frowned. “Lots of blood. I suppose that must be what woke me.”

“You didn’t’ recognize anything from the dream?”

“No, should I?”

Mede paused, uncertain how much to say to her friend. “Did any of it feel familiar?”

“Well…” Tsuda thought for a moment, biting her lip nervously. “Some of it did…not the smoke, I think…but there was this pair of green eyes…I mean, someone with green eyes…I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes of that color except in the warrior priests…” She laughed suddenly, the tension smoothing from her body. “Of course, I must have been dreaming about what I imagined from the story that Kio told us.”

The mood lightened, and Mede decided to postpone telling her friend her suspicions about the dreams. After all, they might be just that: dreams. Tsuda stayed and chatted for another hour, then made her way home.