The tunnel was dark but Roy could see a light at the end, a long way off. It was so far away that it was only a flickering pinpoint. His legs felt weak and unable to move. A shout, a cry, sounded to his right. He turned to see rows upon rows of soldiers. They wore armour like some kind of knights. Behind them were more soldiers, seated high and sturdy on horses, and the horses had iron masks, snorting wildly. Their breath smoked in the cold midnight air.
Roy tried to run, but ahead he saw a large red shape. It moved toward him, just a small lurch of its hide, and then a head looked up at him. Roy realised it was a dragon—the very devil himself! He tried to run with legs that were weighed down and too heavy to move.
Roy woke up with a gasp. He sat up in his bed to catch his breath and calm his heart. The he remembered he had spent the night before reading apocalyptic prophecies, and then drifted off to sleep while pondering them. He reached over to the bed cabinet and grabbed the luminous clock to see the time. Five-o-five.
He swung his feet out of bed to go see if Wuting and Jian were still in the house. They had gone. He had missed them again. The only sign that they had been there was the two neatly folded sets of blankets. Another week of street walking ahead for them, Roy concluded. Even the arrival of Monday morning did not affect their promptness.