Silver could see Sage in a beautiful meadow. The air was fresh and clean, and birds twittered as they flew with the gentle breeze.

The brown-eyed woman was wearing a long, formfitting dress, and gracing him a sweet yet seductive smile. Sage called out his name. It carried on the wind toward him and filled his soul with desire.

Silver's body moved involuntarily toward her. She was irresistible. Her laughing eyes teased him, and she stroked her hair gently as he approached. As he reached for her face, his heart threatened to burst with happiness.

Then, without warning, a chasm opened below Sage, and she plunged into its depth with a deafening scream. Silver dove toward the precipice and peered over the edge desperately. Below he could see fire, only fire.

Reaching frantically down into the flames, the Guardian withdrew his hands with a pained cry. Sage's screams pierced his ears but he could not see her even though he searched with all his might.

"Sage!" he called into the fiery pit.

"Help! Help me!" the woman cried over and over. The sound boomed in his ears like a drum.

Slowly her calls for help died away, replaced by laughter. Silver's blood ran cold as he turned around. He was surrounded by dozens of soldiers laughing at him, mocking his pain.

"You should have known better," one of them sneered.

"He will never learn," another scoffed as he prodded Silver with his spear.

"Do you need a reminder?" A third man mocked. His brown eyes were filled with malice. He motioned to the other side of the flames.

"Don't," Silver pleaded, "Please." He did not want to see, yet his eyes followed the man's pointing finger.

On the far side of the meadow a village was engulfed in flames. The smell of death flooded Silver's senses. Tears streamed down the strong man's face.

"No! Not again!"

The mocker with the spear hit the Guardian in his knees, causing Silver to collapse.

The third soldier, with hair white-blonde like the hottest of fires, grabbed Silver's head and jerked away his hood. On his knees now, Silver hung his head. It was no use fighting. Suddenly the man's mouth was almost touching Silver's ear.

The words were thunder in his head. "You….are…nothing."

With the heel of his boot, the man shoved Silver into the fiery pit.

Silver awoke in a cold sweat. Dreams like these were his constant companion over the past few years. It was a good reason to never sleep. 'It was only a dream,' he comforted himself, 'I won't let Sage be another victim of my choices.'

Something else edged its way into his consciousness. Silver sat up quickly, completely alert. 'I heard something.' It was barely audible, but he was certain the sound was not just lingering from his dream. Something real had made it.

Sitting quietly for a moment, Silver tried to discern the threat. 'It is coming from the other room.' The Guardian put on his cloak, took the knife from it, and crept into the main room. The night was his element, and he was barely a shadow as he moved along the wall.

It was very dark, but from the dull coals he could just make out someone's shadow. It was surveying the few contents of the shelves on the wall as it held onto a large sack. Silver lowered the knife and shrugged his shoulders. He came up behind the figure and grabbed him by the collar.

"You!" Silver bellowed in surprise and disgust. "You are the boy who came by begging earlier."

The boy worked to free himself with little success. His legs dangled helplessly in the air as his voice came out choked. "No, sir. I don't know what you are talking about. I was hurrying home and seem to have entered the wrong cottage."

"Do not lie to me, boy. I can take you out in one simple step, and no one will even know you are missing." He raised the knife, and the boy froze. Silver could sense his fear.

With a sigh, Silver dropped the boy on the dirt floor against the wall by the hearth and shoved some wood into the fireplace. After a moment, a fire was blazing.

"I have never seen anyone light a fire so quickly," the boy said sheepishly. "Where did you ever learn such a skill? The only time I have seen fire start that fast was when lighting struck some dried timber. Now THAT was a fire..."

Silver held up his hand to stop the boy from his idle prattle. "Don't change the subject, boy," he growled, "Now, who are you?" The Guardian loomed over the child like a bat, causing the boy to shrink against the wall.

"I am just a weary traveler, sir. You were so kind to me earlier that I thought I would try and spend the night in here and leave before you awoke in the morning. It is so very cold outside." The boy looked at the ground and shivered.

"You are a very smooth talker, child," The Guardian admitted. "What happened to your poor mother and useless father? Have you tossed them aside so quickly?"

Small tears formed in the boy's eyes as he hesitated to answer. Silver eyed the sack the boy was clutching. He had noted it when he lifted the boy off the ground. The shape of it was wrong and Silver sensed it was oddly heavy. He grabbed the sack from the boy's hands. Furiously the boy tried to stop him, but he was not able to overcome the man's strength.

"Hey, give that back! It's mine," he yelled defiantly.

Silver dumped out the contents out on the floor between them. Some of Silver's dishes dropped out of the bag along with other odds and ends from nearby houses. The child blanched, and the Guardian scowled beneath the invisible shield of his cowl.

"And who do these belong to?" Silver asked with a growl.

The boy wrung his hands. "Um, they are mine, sir."

'Wrong answer.' Silver's eyes flashed beneath his hood. "You remember what I said about lying…"

"Yes sir…" The boy looked at his feet. Silver noticed they were bare. The boy struggled to find an explanation. "I just, well, I borrowed them."

"Borrowed?" Silver made a sudden move toward the boy, bringing himself to full height.

The boy flinched. "Okay, I stole them. I am a homeless street urchin. Take the things away from me and give me to the royal guard…" the boy said hopelessly.

The man furrowed his brow. "Why in the world would I do that?" Silver asked, surprised. The harshness was gone, replaced with genuine curiosity.

"You must turn me in so they can put me in the castle dungeon or chop off my head." The boy held out his hands and offered them to be tied.

Silver stroked his chin. "Aren't you terribly dramatic? You certainly do not want to go to the dungeon, do you?"

"No sir, but what can I do to convince you not to turn me in?" The child pleaded. His sad green eyes made him resemble a lost puppy.

"Well, I have good news, dear boy, I happen to have a soft spot for thieves, but these are not people you should be stealing from. They are very poor." Silver put everything back into the bag. "You will be returning these things in the morning."

"That is assuming that I live that long…" the boy mumbled.

Ignoring him, Silver took the bag into his room and returned with a blanket.

"You can sleep in here tonight. The fire will keep you warm. But do not run off. I track better than any hunter you have met," he warned.

"Can I stay in the other bedroom?" the boy's face lit up.

Silver became suddenly hostile, "NO! That room is for her! You will stay in here for tonight. We will figure something else out in the morning."

The boy nodded, afraid, and lay down on the ground. Silver threw the blanket to him. He started to return to his room.

"Who are you?" the boy asked from beneath his blanket.

Silver regretted his former outburst and took pity on the boy.

"You can call me Silver."

"My name is Ethyn. Goodnight, Silver."

Silver smiled beneath his hood. He left the room and disappeared into his own. Ethyn snuggled into the blanket. It and the fire felt good against his skin. He was relishing his good fortune when he felt a soft object land on his face. It was the man's own personal pillow!

Ethyn took it from his face and placed it under his head. The softness made him feel like his cheek was laying on a cloud. "Thank you Silver!" the boy called. "You know, you are a lot nicer than you look!"

"Don't count on that!" came a warning from the other room. "Goodnight, Ethyn."

Having heard someone wish him goodnight for the first time in a long time, the boy drifted blissfully off to sleep.