I've getting a bit bored with these themes so I might just be randomizing the rest of them after this. Yes this is taking me time, but I'm a slow writer, who has about twenty things going at once, and the reason for short story bits is so that you don't have to do the prolonged story writing thing…. If that makes sense. Anyway, enjoy and review.

6. The Space Between Dream and Reality

She twisted on the pallet, sheets tightening their hold against her feverish body, and remained completely unaware of it. Numair watched her, too tired to be horrified, but too desperate to be insensitive. If he moved it would be the tenth time that hour he had risen to readjust her on the pallet in a vain attempt to keep her comfortable.

They weren't alone, a healer walked about the tent checking on the other injured. Daine, it was understood, could only recover with time – if her body had the strength to endure through the fever.

Unicorn Fever was not something the human realm had had to deal with for a long time, but just as before there was no cure for it, just patience and hope. Hope had been appealed to more than once since she had fallen unconscious, hope had been begged and bartered with incessantly since the fever had being diagnosed.

They hadn't been far from their sanctum when she fell, the whole troop owing their lives to her skills and power. He had been too busy trying not to watch her to notice that she needed, this once, watching. The collapse had been unexpected, falling gracelessly forward onto Clouds neck and then to the ground beside the animal. Immediately the animals had gone berserk. All of them in a panic against the humans, a panic which seemed to exclude only him, as if they knew that he would be by her side in a moment so long as he was unhindered. And he was, finally noticing the fever that burnt her skin, that made a sheen of sweat cling to her body and noticing the unnaturally pale colour of her skin.

He'd been lucky not to be frantic, only constant training had made him handle the situation with a mediocre of level headedness. He'd picked her up, taken her to his own horse and mounted, a word or two to the motley crew who had battled with him and he was off, no regard for anything but caring for the bundle. The animals of the wild had stayed with him, all being as concerned as he was, the horses of the warriors had remained with their riders.

They had been lucky for the camp not far away and when he arrived Spots had taken him directly to the healers tent without prompting, and as if everyone knew that something had gone wrong a healer had met him at the door.

Later he would understand that any one of the people in the camp could have guessed because not only had the animals directly around her reacted, every animal in a ten mile radius had responded to her falling.

Daine made another noise, another turn in her blankets and he only flicked a glance at the healer shuffling about the tent before he reached over to her and eased her position out of the tangle of bedding. His hand touched hot clammy skin, and with the affirmation of illness his heart began to pound. He knew she was sick, had been by her side for longer than he could comprehend, but every time he felt it a surge of panic struck through him again.

He was gentle as he shifted the blankets into a neat cover once more, his eyes constantly flicking to the healer to see if he was observed. But the healer was tending to other patients, ones who where lucky enough to find sleep through the night.

When she was settled to his satisfaction, looking still sick by somewhat more comfortable Numair found himself checking the healers attention once more. Without thinking – because thinking would deny him the chance – he lent forwards and kissed her brow. It was soft and gentle and reassuring to both himself and the sleeping girl.

She made a noise, a result of fever and poisoning magic, but as close as he was to her just then, feeling her soft helpless breaths as they wafted out against his face, seeing her eyes closed but her brow pinched as if she was awake, he felt that noise jolt through him like a slap. Panic tried to steal his senses, tried to tell him that he would never see her alive again; that this moment here, now, was all he would ever have with her.

Tears threatened him, clouding into his eyes until he closed them and forced that panic down. Again he glanced to check the healers attention, bent over her, face still so close to her own trying to reassure himself when there was no reassurance to be had. Again the healer was paying no attention.

Softly, careful not to wake the fitful girl Numair settled his hands above her shoulders and lent himself over her further, keeping his weight away from her body but needing to see her as clearly as he could, needing to soak in everything about her he could… incase…

Incase of what he refused to allow himself to consider as he looked down at the girl who had taken his heart without ever knowing it. She was pale and sick, a sheen of sweet spread across pained features, but she was still beautiful. He had found since that day when the barrier had broken that beauty had stopped meaning 'perfectly arranged', he had found instead every aspect of a single creature to exceed beauty. Even sick and fitful he could see nothing but a precious woman he wished he could die for.

His breath trembled out of him his hand lifting to shift her smoky brown hair from her face, meticulously moving each sweat soaked tendril off her and letting it fall into the mass of curls on her pillow.

Another noise, she tired to move but he stopped her, keeping her still against the fitful movements he had been watching for nearly two days now. She muttered something, broken words in broken dreams and his hand left the task of her hair to cup her check.

If she had been awake, if she could have seen his expression she would have known without any prompting that she held his very heart in her hands, but she was lost to the world of consciousness and only he and a secretly glancing healer would see that expression this day.

And devoted, desperate and scared he whispered words he had only allowed himself to think. His lips falling to her brow once more to try and remind himself that she was still there, still his, and she was strong, powerful and resilient, and if anyone was to survive this, it would be her. "Mithros, Magelet: I love you." He breathed across her features, knowing she was too far gone to hear. Not even the healer, peaking across his patient heard the words.

She mumbled something, incomprehensible words once more and he didn't even let the bitter laugh escape him. Instead he pulled away, glanced to be sure the healers attention was elsewhere, and resettled her blankets around her shoulders. Then he pulled back entirely, releasing the moment into the back of his mind, where it would linger for another day.

He rubbed his eyes furiously, tired and strained and clinging desperately to that weak hope. He released a sigh, watching her until his eye lids closed of their own accord and he fell into a light sleep.

And in the shuffling silence of a healers tent, a stricken girl replied - despite her delirium – with words just as true and as honest. "I love you too." Mumbled, unheard and unsuspected by even the girl speaking them.