fadewalk

Alistair awoke in what appeared to be a stable, one that still smelled faintly of Mabari. And horse, of course, but that was more expected. He was also being poked in the bare back by itchy prickly straw. He jumped to his feet.

"Well, this is...horrifyingly familiar. Next I'll be swarmed by a large group of hounds, just you wait."

He did. Wait, that is. Nothing happened.

"O-okay then, maybe not. I haven't regressed to ten years old, have I?" He poked his own cheek, which was still fairly bristly, and glanced down at himself, half-clothed as he was in just the trousers he'd worn to sleep in. "Nope, never mind, still myself. How peculiar. I haven't dreamt of Redcliffe in years, but then this doesn't look much like Redcliffe, does it? It smells like Redcliffe. Hrm."

He wrinkled his nose and headed out of the stable, into what sort of looked like daylight, accidentally kicking some kind of book halfway across the stable floor as he did so. He muttered an apology to the thing and scooped it up, for lack of anything better to do with it.