Every night you've slept (if you'd like to call it that) since, all you could see were murky swamp-rushes and weeping trees. The scent of recent rain hung heavy in the air, and you felt as if you were being watched or chased. Like a wild rabbit to a wolf, yes, something that wanted you dead for your cowardice (it was what you deserve, after all!)... You could see him staring at you, as you looked behind you, he was staring at you with those brilliant, piercing, white eyes. He knew, he remembered, and, oh God, he must've hated you for it all. He was your brother, you cur! You cretin-thing!... And the dream, it always ended the same. That little lake, that little harbour-thing, with all manner of beasts standing and swimming about. Staring at you, yes, the deserter. Even the moon stared at you so. All expecting one thing: justice. And my, is it served, by your own hand then-- though there's always one issue. You always wake up.