In the grand scheme of things, a dream was but a dream to anyone else. To anyone else, it was the repetition of what vague events took place throughout the day with little to no cohesion. There wasn't always much stock to be had in them either. They were not visions, projections, or divinations. Meaningless butterflies trapped in a jar, clinging to the top, hoping it would open and set them free.
Yet there Hysaeda sat, jerking upward and panting hard after he woke up. Dreaming meant little to others, but he knew better. Hysaeda wiped the beads that dampened his brow and he pushed away the braids and loose strands of hair that had grown to his shoulders. The grizzled edges of his face, the beard scratching along his chin and jawline, he felt far older than he was.
He was tired and although he wanted nothing more than to crawl back onto his bed of furs and blankets, he didn't and the memories came flooding back to him like a tidal wave. He sighed and tried desperately reason with the whispers invaded. Thoughts of spirits past, of his father, and he took in a deep breath. Focused. A slow heavy breath now and he released it.
"Adalia?" he murmured, focusing on the dream. She was running, from somewhere lonely and cold, as far and as fast as she could. Fear, or panic, or desperation, or all three pumping wild primal blood in her veins. "Adalia." It was her, it had to be. There was no one else with that opalescent hair.
Hysaeda carefully rose to his feet, dressed himself and didn't wait to alert anyone of where he'd gone. The quiet of the camp remained that way and years of hunting out in the wilds on his own had left him more than capable of sneaking out unheard. Something told him she was close, much closer than the cold place she had left and so he ran as quietly and as swiftly as his feet could take him.
How soon he would get there he didn't know, and could only rely on the direction of where those whispers would take him. The ghosts of those that walked before him left embedded prints untraceable by others, but he could see them. Go, one of those whispers told him. His heart beat faster and Hysaeda darted onward, until every muscle burned in his body and daylight began to rise.