Here we go again. The same dream he had been having since he was a child.
He was falling into an endless dark pit. Tumbling over and over, head over heels and back over, the wind tearing at his hair and clothes, biting his face. He saw no walls, top or floor, just blackness and the sound of the wind whistling past his ears.
Suddenly, with a jarring impact, he hit the ground. He was fine, however, always was.
He pressed his cheek to the dirt, fingers digging into the cold, lifeless soil. He pushes himself up to sit, hair curtained around his face. He knew what he would see.
After several long moments, Egfor lifts his gaze. Nothing was audible except his own breathing, and it sounded like a cacophonous din in the consuming silence and darkness.
All around him stood soldiers and orcs even. All of varying ethnicities and roles. They all had their weapons pointed at Egfor, no expression in their glassy eyes. There never was. He growled wordlessly at them, an unspoken challenge.
He heard a familiar clatter of a bow and arrow and twisted around to see what was going on. This was different.
The Huntsman. There he stood, in ethereal magnificence, clad in white furs and leathers, antlers upon his brow, bones adorning his garb. He stared down the shaft of an arrow at Egfor.
Egfor felt that wild, primal fear. The fear a stag feels staring down a hunter's bow.
The Huntsman fired. The arrow sank into his torso, where he got shot not long ago in the waking world.
Egfor looked down, chuckling softly, "You missed. The Huntsman drew another arrow in the blink of an eye. This one made its mark, embedding in Egfor's heart.
He cried out, both in his dream and in the waking world, the man writhing in his sleep, tangling in the blankets.
The Huntsman stalked over and gripped the arrow, lifting Egfor up by it. He felt his shirt starting to get soaked with that familiar, warm stickiness. He felt his mouth fill with the metallic taste. Egfor slid down on the arrow's shaft slightly.
The Huntsman cruelly twisted the arrow, "You are a fool, little deer, firing arrows into your own heart, spilling your life blood. You will bleed out and be a husk. However… just as the stag sacrifices his life blood to provide sustenance for others, so do you, of a different kind."
He deposits the dying man onto the ground, sighing. Egfor lay on his back, gasping for air, coughing on blood.
The Huntsman drew his bow once more, pressing an arrow of light against Egfor's forehead, "The Stag realizes its worth, and you shall too." He points his bow towards one of the man's eyes, "I will take this in exchange for your wisdom." He fires.
Egfor wakes up with a scream, still in that primal, animalistic state of fear. His chest heaves, skin soaked in sweat, hair plastered to his face. He looks around with wild, frantic eyes, trying to remember where he was… The Soothery, he was shot by arrows prior to this and came here for treatment, that's right.
He eventually calms down, his chest stuttering as he sinks back down, clutching his wound. He hopes he didn't wake Elias with his screams.
