They've promised that dreams can come true,
but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too.
Ulcwyne doesn't know where she is, nor where she's going. She's walking in the night, the mist on the ground hindering her steps, like it were solid. Grey-ish leaves of grass peeks out fo the white haze here and there.
But she keeps walking, her heart thumping in her chest, even if she doesn't know why; it spurs her on, step after step, league after league, until she sees them.
They are two, a man and a woman, and they're dressed in their skin. The man is Ceorlgar, but who is the woman? What is he doing?
She knows, but doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to see. She doesn't want to think.
She can't see who the woman is, but she has something similar to her, to Ulcwyne.
Ulcwyne wakes up and the first thing she sees is her nuptial dress on the workbench, the fine embroidery still unfinished, pending, waiting to be completed. Just like her.
She will cry until dawn.
