395 Wear and Tear

Frey's eyes were glued to the sled as he raced out into the open, but a familiar chime stopped him in his tracks. His gaze locked onto a familiar toy. 'Is that…Arte's?' he thought.

His hesitation cost him, alerting the goblins to his presence. Their shrill cries dragged him back to reality. Half of them turned tail and ran with the sled while the other half knocked arrows to their bows.

A few months prior…

Frey tossed and turned in his sleep, his blankets drenched in a cold sweat. "No," he muttered. The year-long war had ended but the bruise on his back, Ashtehar's parting gift to him, was still painfully fresh.

"You weren't strong enough, Frey," an accusing voice rang out in the darkness. "You were weak."

"Hopi, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

A soft chime cut through the nightmare. It was so clear and crisp, as if it had lifted the pillow off Freys' ears. Frey's eyes cracked open, and he found himself no longer trapped within his recurring nightmare.