*****
That night, Hunter found the concept of sleep impossible, even with the comforting warmth of Sophie beside him. He watched her sleep with a quiet fascination. She seemed so peaceful, until the early hours of the morning, when the rhythm if sleep became disturbed. A pained expression crumpled her face and she struggled against the bedclothes.
Suddenly, Sophie jolted awake with a strangled cry, sitting up in bed now, her body tense and trembling.
“Sophie, Sophie, it’s alright.” Hunter murmured gently to her, his hand placed against her flushed cheek. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Sophie, eyes wide with panic, her gaze roving over him in slow understanding as she tried to shake off the images. “Just a dream.” She muttered, forcing herself to be calm. “Just a dream.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asked.
“No.” Sophie replied shortly, lying back down.
Hunter sighed. “It might help.” He insisted. Yes, it might help him pass the hours until dawn, when he no longer had to pretend to need rest and bed.
Sophie looked at him in assessment. “It was nothing, it…” She broke off, unable to shake the possessing dream. “Fine, the truth. We were at the graveyard, like today, and the Shadow Witch was waiting at the gate. She was wearing Death’s garb and called to you. I begged you not to go, but you walked through the gate with your head high and your stupid pride. Then, knowing that you were dead, and I alive - in the dream I was distraught, I… I…”
Sophie stopped, struggling to find words to express her feelings. “It was a physical, inescapable pain. And I hated you for making me grieve your death.”
Hunter remained quiet for a while, taking in this open answer. “It was just a dream. Probably set off by the funeral today.”
Sophie frowned, forever fighting with herself, and building up the courage to say what was on her mind. “I don’t want you to fight the Shadow Witch.”
“What?” Hunter laughed, surprised by this sudden, ludicrous request.
“You don’t have to go up against her. There are a hundred other witch-hunters that can face her.” Sophie argued, in a quiet voice that was already defeated.
“Sophie, don’t be ridiculous. How can I turn my back on the biggest threat of our time? I’m one of the best witch-hunters out there, if I don’t stop her, who will?” Hunter argued back, logically.
“But if you face her you will be killed.”
Hunter hesitated in his response, feeling a faint wave of foreboding. He shrugged it off. “That was nothing but your dream, Sophie. I may actually survive this thing, trust me.”
Sophie propped herself up on her elbow in a sharp movement, her whole body emanating anger. “No, it’s not just my dream, Hunter. Why don’t you listen to me? I’ve seen inside the mind of the Shadow Witch, I’ve seen how she wants your death above all others, how she’s imagined it a hundred different ways. She is your Death and you march proudly and stubbornly towards it.”
Hunter was temporarily silenced by this revelation. “You never said -”
“It never seemed important.” Sophie bit back. “But does it make you reconsider?”
“No.” Hunter replied quickly.
Sophie hissed in disgust and rolled away from him. She lay still for so long that Hunter began to think that she’d fallen back to sleep.
“You awake, Sophie?” He eventually whispered.
“Yes.” She snapped, remaining stubbornly turned away from him.
“Sophie, this is who I am. I cannot turn away from this fight, it’s against my nature.” Hunter said seriously. He reached out and stroked her back gently, frowning as she flinched away from him. “You wouldn’t love me if I were any different.”
The scene seemed to freeze. Neither of them had mentioned the ‘L’ word, nor even allowed themselves to think it in their most private thoughts.
“You’re right.” Sophie replied, finally turning to face him. “How I wish you were any other man right now, one not cursed by the Shadow Witch. If you should die, it would cut me down also.”
Sophie reached out, her hand tracing his face, committing his features to memory. “Promise me you won’t die.”
Hunter smiled, then pulled her close to him, lips brushing her hair. “How I wish I could promise that.”
Held close in Hunter’s arms, Sophie slowly fell back to sleep, gentle and dreamless. Hunter sighed, the same foreboding reawakening in him, that all this was a temporary happiness.
“I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial.” He muttered to himself, unable to smile at the fitting words. Ah, was all this a premonition of the end, rushing up to greet them.