I rise from my bed of leaves, the smell of fertile soil in my lungs. I must have fallen asleep in the garden again. Father no longer worries at these absences.

I have done this since I was a girl, seeking comfort in the land and the flowers when my visions turn dark. Their petals are better than a dreamcatcher at sifting through my unconscious thoughts, bringing light and clarity. Chasing away the shadows.

Their heavy fragrance permeates the tropical air. I breathe deeply. Stretch. I can no longer remember my nightmare in detail, but I can just make out the fuzzy shape of it.

Kalyn.

In the desert.

But of course he should have reached Inte by now. Kalyn and the rest. They left months ago. By now, he will have found what he is seeking. His home, his parents. I hope they were everything he dreamed, even if it means that he will never come back to me.

I am not one to try to capture a wandering soul. I know better than to try to fill the voids in a heart, for voids they will always be. A man must be complete before he can be anything else.

The rain falls on my loose hair until it straightens and clings to my back and shoulders. I tie it tight to wring out the excess and pin it high on my head. The plants bob happily under the nourishing patter.

I walk barefoot through overgrown paths, unbothered by my damp clothes. The rain is no reason to hide. It, like all things both good and bad, will pass. In the meantime, I will cherish it.

Mud squelches through my toes, paints my ankles. Even the grass sings with pleasure at the sky's generosity. Rain pours with regularity here. It is a way of life, but we do not need to be deprived to know that we are fortunate.

Every day there are travelers to remind us of our bounty. Why so few continue on into the unknown when they have found heaven will never cease to confuse me.

Men are built with an innate need to strive for more, for better. So few are content, even with everything. I think it would paralyze them. What would they do without their longing? Certainly not be happy.

So we welcome them, and we watch them go. I accept, but I don't hope to understand. I have learned better than to intervene.

I step into the ocean, minnows nibbling at the rich dirt caked into my skin. My arms float to either side. I look up into the pregnant, grey clouds and let the water wash me clean. Droplets kiss my closed eyelids, lead down my cheeks.

I miss Kalyn. Is that a silly thing to admit? We knew each other for a week, before he was off on his next adventure. I wonder what he has seen, what he has felt. Do I compare to the greatness of the wide open world?

I let the warm sea hold me. When the storm passes, I drift back to shore. The sun breaks over the horizon, and I let my sorrow fall from me like droplets. In time, I will be dry.

Though Sunia is the same as it always has been, the teeming streets of packed clay feel emptier now. I have had my fun in whispers and stolen kisses, dancing until my legs ached with pleasure, but Kalyn felt different.

A serious, young man, his thoughts darker than his complexion. Was it foolish of me to think I could change him? Save him?

I saw him there, surrounded by friends, but completely alone in his mind. I wanted to bring him out of himself. How could anyone be so dismal surrounded by such beauty?

I introduced him to wonders. I showed him how to dance, how to swim. I cooked for him daring new foods. Under my tending he bloomed like my flowers, face full to the sun. I thought I saw the clouds lifting. Cautious optimism. Blinding beauty.

Perhaps these investments were just the first in a long line. Wherever he is, I hope he is still smiling. It would be a shame for such radiance to be dampened.

No matter how I try to shake it, the nightmare unsettles me. I find myself wandering often to the gleaming desert. My eyes scan the sands, watering at the intensity of the reflection. I can't neglect my duties forever, though. It is only when I am readying for bed that I venture to the border to take a final survey of the land.

Nothing.

I feel Kalyn is close to me, but maybe that is just the remnants of the dream. I worry for him, though I know that he is well-tended. I am proud of him. To leave this place takes a courage greater than mine. I am turning to leave when I see a distant flare. Fire. It is gone as quickly as it arose, but the sight is unmistakable. It is only now that darkness has fallen that I can see it.

I run toward it, burying myself up to my ankles in still warm sand.

The fire grows. Bursts of light, steadily larger as it races toward me. I should be afraid, but part of me knows that it is Kalyn. That he needs my help.

My father tells me not to trust in dreams, but it is my heart now that I am trusting. Maybe it is no more reliable. For better or worse, though, it will always be my guiding force.

I can see vague, distant shadows when the fire dies. Wings in the darkness. I hear them beating frantically against the air before I feel them. Wart has transformed entirely since I last saw him, but he has only become more himself. It is only when he stops that I notice he is dragging something. The dragon pants puffs of smoke as he nudges the limp form toward me.

Covered in mud and blood, I don't recognize Kalyn for human, let alone himself until those hazy green eyes roll toward me. I shout for help, and, along with my siblings, heft him to house.

Water is heated over a fire, and Kalyn's shivering body is hoisted into the tub. I hear a faint gasp before he loses consciousness. We struggle to hold him above the surface, only the minimal rise and fall of his chest reassuring me that he is still alive as we scrub his inanimate limbs. Out of a misplaced sense of propriety, I don't remove what is left of his clothes.

Livid, crimson mounds have broken out mar his formerly smooth skin and, when he is dry, I smother them in healing ointments. He is dressed in what clothes we can spare on such short notice and muscled into bed.

I spend the night in an armchair, keeping watch over my patient's fragile health.