Page 114 of Caller of Crows
"Sleep now, love. Rest."
He wanted to argue. He wanted to say that he'd rested enough. But before he could find his tongue, something dragged him back to the nothingness of oblivion.
He dreamed of his mom and her smile. She held his hand and led him down the path in the forest, toward the small pond where they'd gone to cool off in the summers when he was small. Now it was late autumn and the leaves had mostly fallen, coloring the forest paths in bright shades of yellow and red.
These woods were so familiar to him, and yet, they seemed different somehow. Unreal in a way that he couldn't quite define. He couldn't even say why that bothered him because this was a dream, and everything seemed just a little unreal in a dream, but he couldn't shake the sensation.
The crunch of the leaves under his feet echoed in his ears, as loud as the beat of his own heart. Birdsong reached him from the distance, but aside from the wind rustling through the trees, nothing moved, no animal stirred. They were alone.
Just him and his mother.
And she looked at him as if she hadn't seen him in years, with that kind of proud smile that only a mother could offer a child. "You found someone," she commented, sounding happy for him. "Someone special."
"I did," Sven replied, not needing to ask how she knew. "He's a vampire. I…" he trailed off, not quite sure how to tell her thathewas also in the process of becoming a vampire.
"I know, honey." Katya's smile grew bittersweet. "We could not talk like this if you were not between life and death."
His throat grew tight at those words and he stopped, blinking at her. "Mom?"
She stepped close to him and cupped his face, then placed a tender kiss on his forehead. "I don't have much time to speak with you," she whispered. "But you mustn't blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could. I wish…" She shook her head, a single tear trickling down her face. "I am happy for you," she choked out. "You've finally chosen your own path."
"I did," Sven admitted, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat. His chest felt ready to burst with joy and happiness at seeing her again, even knowing that their time here was limited. "I miss you so much."
Katya threw her arms around him, enveloping him in the warmest of hugs. "I never left," she whispered, burying her face in his neck. "We are always together in our hearts, remember that. Your father and I are so proud of you."
"You've met Dad again?"
She smiled at him again in a way that made everything seem right in the world. "Of course I have." Her fingers stroked his cheek once more. "But that's a story for another time." She released him and took a step back. "You have to go now, Sven. It's not your time to die."
"No!" Sven said reflexively. He didn't want to leave here yet. What if he never got to see her again, what if he forgot the way she smelled or how soft her touch was? What if he…
A low caw pierced his thoughts as something black fluttered above him. A crow.
One of Altair's?
His mother looked at it, then back at Sven. "You don't want to abandon your vampire, do you?"
Sven blinked at her, then shook his head firmly. He would never do that to Altair. Never.
"Go to him then." Katya stroked a hand through his hair. "Focus on your future now, not the past." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone, leaving him alone with the crow who fluttered around him and tugged at his shirt.
"Stop that," he scolded the bird.
In response, it made an unhappy noise and pecked at his sleeve, making it clear that it wanted him to follow it.
The crow took flight and landed on a tree stump farther down the path, watching him expectantly.
"You can wait a minute, can't you?" Sven asked as he raised his fingers to touch his cheek. He could still feel the lingering heat of where his mother had kissed him, but when he glanced around, he realized that the forest around him was quickly changing. The bright leaves of autumn shifted into a dull gray as the temperature dropped drastically, ice creeping up the sides of the tree trunks.
The bird squawked loudly at him, its pitch frantic, almost panicked. It hopped up and down in place, cawing again.
Sven stopped hesitating and hurried after the crow, ignoring how the frost pricked his skin.
Fortunately, Sven didn't have to go very far before he felt himself yanked out of the dream—if it had been a dream at all. One moment he was sprinting through the forest, and the next, his consciousness shifted gears and returned him to the waking world, where he came alert with a sudden start.
Eyes wide open, he stared into Altair's face. The vampire leaned over him, studying him carefully as Sven took a slow, deep breath, taking in everything at once—the warmth of the bed, the comforting smell of Altair, and the way his dark eyes shone with concern. "Hey," he said, surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.
Altair visibly relaxed. "Hey," he said in return. He helped Sven up into a sitting position, propping pillows against the headboard to support him.
