The bunk normally looked neat and spotless, with only a standard issue pillow and blanket, and a large stuffed minotaur named Tiny Tony. Right now, the bunk was ruffled and looking out of sorts as a small Roman tossed and turns, her face contorted in pain and fear and her brow covered in sweat.
The day was bright, but it was dark under the tunnel. She could see a dog large as a car approaching two guards in Roman armor. He voice wouldn't work, she couldn't squeak out a warning. There was a rock. She grabbed the rock and threw it, hurting her shoulder.
Terror gripped her as the large black beast turned to her. She vaguely remembered a comment in Harry Potter about black dogs being an omen of death, and how true that was. Her life flashed before her eyes, all her secrets to die with her. The beast pounced, a searing pain in her chest. Leandra's eyes snapped open, her breathing fast and ragged. She noticed she had a death clutch on her poor stuffed minotaur like a protective shield.
The girl focused on her breathing and sat up, putting her feet on the cold marble floor to help ground herself to reality. She touched her chest under her night clothes. The claw marks were barely visible, but at times she could swear she felt them. Years. Years and the same dream.
Every demigod has nightmares.
Every Probatio was told that. It wasn't uncommon. It didnt make them weak. But what if her dreams weren't like the others, who see things of vital importance dealing with other people and gods? What if she told people that hers always brought her to the same time and the same place, with no one but two demigods and a hellhound.
Leandra grabbed Tony again and brought him and her knees to her chest as she stared across the room. Sleep wasn't going to come again any time soon.
The day was bright, but it was dark under the tunnel. She could see a dog large as a car approaching two guards in Roman armor. He voice wouldn't work, she couldn't squeak out a warning. There was a rock. She grabbed the rock and threw it, hurting her shoulder.
Terror gripped her as the large black beast turned to her. She vaguely remembered a comment in Harry Potter about black dogs being an omen of death, and how true that was. Her life flashed before her eyes, all her secrets to die with her. The beast pounced, a searing pain in her chest. Leandra's eyes snapped open, her breathing fast and ragged. She noticed she had a death clutch on her poor stuffed minotaur like a protective shield.
The girl focused on her breathing and sat up, putting her feet on the cold marble floor to help ground herself to reality. She touched her chest under her night clothes. The claw marks were barely visible, but at times she could swear she felt them. Years. Years and the same dream.
Every demigod has nightmares.
Every Probatio was told that. It wasn't uncommon. It didnt make them weak. But what if her dreams weren't like the others, who see things of vital importance dealing with other people and gods? What if she told people that hers always brought her to the same time and the same place, with no one but two demigods and a hellhound.
Leandra grabbed Tony again and brought him and her knees to her chest as she stared across the room. Sleep wasn't going to come again any time soon.