Despite the bitter taste in her mouth at the idea of her dream being invaded by something, someone her mind hadn’t put there for her to find, Svea was equally sickened by the site of what looked like him dying. Was that was happened when a dream invader was discovered? They died a horribly agonizing death right in front of the dreamer? His words, the recognition of the names of her brothers, softened Svea to him again, and she sympathized with the man, but beyond mild upset stomachs and sniffles, she had no idea how to treat any illness. She wasn’t entirely sure they could be treated in dreams anyway.
And then he was gone. No puff of smoke, no warning of any sort like that. He just winked out of existence, and Svea was left staring at the floor where he had been. He’d apologized at least, but this place felt tarnished and dirty and vulnerable. Svea herself felt vulnerable. Enough so that Nana felt it through the connection between them and left Jorg to wake her fairy.
The woman woke to the pressure of the Samoyed on her chest and the warm moisture of a tongue on her face, but immediately realized that her back was just as wet, but cold from sweat, and her hands were shaking.
“What happened?” Nana asked, but Svea had no answer for her, and simply shook her head and frowned. Then, the sinking feeling that something terrible was coming for Jorg overwhelmed her. With scared tears in her eyes, she got up and rushed to the other room, where the little boy slept peacefully in his bed. With no worries of infiltrators in his dreams. How lucky he was.
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