The Children of Hypnos

~sandman~

The Sandman finds them sitting on the shores of the Waking Lake. The boy looks like he was supposed to be keeping watch, his back still straight and his hands clenched around the handle of his war hammer, but now he snores softly with his chin on his chest.

Emery Ashworth looks just like her mother. The Sandman never paid attention to her when he was still at Fenhallow, and he has never been this close to her in the light, but the resemblance is terrifying. Like another doppelgänger. He's already got one of those to deal with; he doesn't need another.

The boy, Wesley Jager, he remembers only a little bit. Marcia mentioned him a few times; he's her cousin, but with the dreamhunter families the way they are, everyone is everyone's cousin.

He feels bad for both these young dreamhunters. He normally has no trouble navigating the Dream, but their presence made it seize so badly even he lost track of them. Perhaps it was because they'd never entered the Dream before and the Dream rejected them, but he thinks the more likely answer is Ashworth. Both her parents reportedly cause spikes in activity when they enter the Dream; their child would no doubt cause chaos.

But here, beside the Waking Lake, she and Jager should be safe.

The Sandman settles on the rocky shore before them and takes a few items from a bag hanging on his belt. A small tripod with a burner beneath its round, flat top. A cup that he fills with water from the lake and sets on the tripod. Then a small teabag that he loads with a bit of azure dust he takes from another pouch on his belt. He lights the burner with a match, drops the teabag in the water, and waits.

Wind ruffles the trees. The lake laps gently at the shore. Wesley Jager snores, and Emery Ashworth's head sinks to land on his shoulder. The Sandman lets his armor disappear and pulls his goggles down around his neck.

It's nice to sit here with them, he thinks. Almost like having friends again.

When the tea is ready, he nurses it between his hands and lets it warm his fingers. He sips until it cools off a bit, then removes the teabag and chucks it as far as he can into the poppy field. His head feels lighter than it has in weeks. He sighs, smiles, and drinks until there's only a bit left at the bottom of the cup. It's cooled off completely now.

He tilts his head back and tosses the rest of the tea directly into his eyes.

Then he packs up his things, pulls his goggles on, and reforms his armor. He's got the two of them here in the Dream; now he needs to figure out how to get them out again. He could just open his gate and put them through, but he doesn't want to use sleeping sand on them again so soon after the last time, and he can't run the risk of one of them trying to touch him. Or worse, shoot him.

He needs to get them in a contained place. A dream space that won't be easy to unravel. A place where the Dean of Fenhallow-who is undoubtedly hunting for his granddaughter at this very moment-will find them. And he needs to get them there soon.

Dangerous things lurk in the Dream.