Kraft's first thought was that he'd misheard, but that was obviously impossible. He went over the words one by one and found no ambiguity, no homophones, nothing like that.
Then Kup saw him take a step back. His attention shifted away from his anger at Kup, and a subtle distance opened between them.
"Think carefully. When did it happen, and what do you remember?"
"Huh? Isn't being able to dream again a sign I'm getting better?" Kup looked confused. He didn't understand why Kraft was so concerned. Was he going to explain the meaning of the dream, like a priest?
"As soon as you can. I need everything you can remember: how the dream began, what happened in the middle, and how it ended. Even the tiniest extra detail could help."
A long, deep breath sounded behind the mask. It could have been an attempt to calm himself, or a prelude to an outburst. No need to read his expression to realize that he'd become serious.
The eyes behind the lenses disappeared in the glare of the midday sun. A bright red glint fell across Kup, and the hand gripping the sword hilt beneath Kraft's robe tightened, pulling the fabric into dark, radiating creases.
Kraft was facing him, but not really looking at him. His attention passed through Kup's solid form and settled on the empty nothingness behind him, as if he were gazing at someone—or something—else.
Kup instinctively glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing there, but a faint, unsettling fear flickered through him.
"Sorry. I'll think."
"Well, a few days ago, I started feeling like it wasn't so 'empty' when I fell asleep. It sounds weird, but it was like waking up knowing I'd dreamed, but not being able to remember what it was."
"I thought I