As Syrioh once more fell into slumber next to his beloved wife, Ellsa, he fell into a dream. One he remembered vividly. He was standing in the fields, but he wasn't looking through his own eyes. He was looking over his shoulder. The man, the Syrioh of whomever this was, looked much older. Maybe in his fifties, or four ties. The elderly man had a Crossbow casually leant against his shoulder, and his free hand stroking his chin softly with a amused smirk appearing as he heard a soft squeal of excitement behind himself or... The Elder Syrioh's.
The Elder Syrioh turned to peer at the child running towards him, and Syrioh's gaze followed his, as if stuck to it. The small child, maybe ten at most leapt into The Older Syrioh's arms, though he only used one to keep him up. He pressed his chin against the child's forehead, and then gingerly placed him back down. They spoke in muffled speak, or maybe he just couldn't remember. The child made many high-pitched excited noises, and the Older Syrioh just nodded and spoke in a soothing, deep... noise.
After a short while, the Elder Syrioh leant down onto one knee, and began carefully instructing the child as to how to use a crossbow - or so Syrioh could only guess. And the child ''shot'' the crossbow, though the Older Syrioh did it himself. The arrow flew across the field and into a deer. The child squealed. The Elder Syrioh smiled.
He then leaned up after waking up, and had a smile on his face. Was that him in the dream? His kid? His grandkid? He didn't know. But he was mad at himself for waking up.
