Night had fallen, and the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping of crickets and the crackling of the fire. Mark warmed his hands and looked up at the stars. Across from him sat another man.

"So what did you think about that shindig the other night?" the man asked.

"It was ok, I guess," Mark replied.

"Ok? What do you mean ok? It was awesome! I've never danced with so many women in my entire life!" the man stated enthusiastically.

"The women were splendid enough, but I've never had my feet stepped on so many times in my entire life!" Mark mused.

"You mean you've never stepped on so many feet in your entire life!" the man corrected with a laugh.

"Yeah, I guess my dancing leaves a bit to be desired," Mark admitted.

"Well, I'm gonna go to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow," the man noted, yawning.

"Yeah, you're right. See you in the morning." Mark rolled over onto his bedding.

No sooner had the two men begun to nod off when Mark heard a rustling in the bushes that quickly brought him back to the world of the waking. He sat up and looked around, but he could see nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, Mark heard a soft whoosh of air, and then he cried out in pain. Looking down at his arm, he saw an arrow protruding from his left bicep.

"To arms!" Mark cried.

Mark's cry of pain had already awoken his companion. Hearing Mark's call to arms, the man quickly picked up his sword and shield and moved over to Mark's side. Mark broke off the shaft of the arrow and picked up his spear and shield. There was another swoosh of air, and this time it was Mark's companion who cried out. An arrow had lodged itself in the man's calf. The two men crouched at each other's backs and scanned the darkness. Suddenly, there came a yell and four men rushed into the clearing where Mark and his friend braced themselves for battle. The next few moments were but a blur of spear and swordplay. Mark quickly felled the first ambusher with a well placed throw of his spear. The other three men fell upon Mark's companion all at once. Mark quickly pulled his spear from the dead ambusher's body and then turned to join the fray. He leapt up into the air, thrusting his spear into the ground to gain more height. As Mark came down he thrust his spear into the back of one of the ambushers. Mark was about to strike again when he cried out and fell to his knees, an arrow sticking out from his back.

Mark watched as his companion kicked an ambusher away and then spun and stabbed the remaining attacker. Mark's friend began to move to assist Mark when an arrow flew over Mark's head and into the chest of his companion. Mark reached out his hand and opened his mouth.

"John!" Mark screamed.

"Mark, whoa...what's the matter? You have a dream?" Curt asked, startled.

Mark paused for a moment and looked around. He was lying in a bed, and Curt was sitting at a table by the window looking at him with some concern. Mark realized that Curt was right - he had had a nightmare.

"Yeah, I'm ok, Curt. Sorry about that." Mark flopped back down onto his pillow.

"No worries. Good morning. Paul just went down to eat breakfast. I told him I would wait for you," Curt said.

"Thanks. You go on ahead. I'll be down in a few," Mark replied.

"All right, I'll see you in a bit then." Curt got up and left the room.