When the wind calls your name
And the moon moves through the trees
It's just enough to wake you up
And put you back to sleep again

War Cry

Shake the cold from your bones and fly into the face of adversity;
You know you must, you feel it in your gut.

Dreams, awaking...

You wake, the rain is coming down in sheets. The bed is cool but not warm and your pillow is soft. You feel calm and pleasant, but you're burning a bitter cold within. On the window ledge, a little squirrel takes shelter from the rain. The room is empty, sleep throws her bony fingers in your face again.

-
You wake, consciousness is dim. The trees glow faintly green; the smell of the earth is rising as the rain settles. You listen for the sound of water trickling into a stream; the feeling calms you. You begin to rise, but the movement tires you; you slip away again.
-
You wake, her head is on your pillow, her tiny, warm frame fits kindly in your arms. Peacocks gaze through the shuttered glass as sun spills through the sky lights; the room is a lot less cold now. More for your sake than hers, you hold her tight. Sleep pulls the wool over your eyes again.
-
You wake, the rain still falls relentless; your first thought is to look for a rainbow. The room is freezing now; you finally look around to notice brick wall and a tiled roof and, is that a snail on the floor? The chase makes you too weary, sleep has her way again.
-
You wake. She's counting the stars. Besides her, you curl and fall asleep again.
-
You wake, she sits and stares at you, wearing a silk shirt. She looks away, trying to hide her inquisitive eyes. As you to rub the sleep out of your own, finally she asks, "Leaving again?"