[b]Herbert
[/b]

Fingers snapped in front of his face. Herbert slowly opened his eyes. It had been the large monk.

Flakes of white fell from above and melted into transparent drops, and then spread into dark circles of wetness upon the sheets. Herbert stared out from behind the screens of his eyes. His mind was reeling. A cold was turning slowly to warmth. He remembered running through water and fog, under stars, and then… Then it was now. There were other things of course; most Herbert could recall only vaguely, except for the man lying on the floor, Twain. He was very vivid in that dream, almost real, but dressed far differently. 

It was then that Herbert noticed a shadowy octopus-like creature dragging its way awkwardly towards Twain. Herbert’s eyes widened. Twain didn’t seem to even notice it, but in a nonchalant motion, transitioning from laying to sitting, he knocked it away. 

Words whirled inside his brain. The conversation happening around him did not help; he tried to grab and focus on each word, but every time he did, a new one knocked it away. It was going too fast. For a little while, Twain seemed to be talking to an orb of light. Then it left. The words still rung like bells inside his skull.

A flicker of motion caused Herbert to look down. A bloody head with arms extending from its eye sockets was pulling its way up the covers towards Herbert, smearing a trail of red behind it. It was terrifying to behold, and seemed to be snarling.

Herbert looked at the other two, and in a panicked and confused voice, shouted, “Hrrrnngh?!”