Rain's first thought once she awoke the next morning was of her in a white tattered dress dyed red with blood and the face of the prince hovering over.
She wasn't able to sleep much after she woke up at midnight; hence she rose very early the next morning, unable to recover from the fear of her nightmare.
It felt so tangible when she ran through the forest, she could almost feel the grasses beneath her bare feet and even when those claws had gored into her chest, the stench of blood and death persevered.
It had been ages since Rain had this same nightmare of the prince. So long she'd forgotten of it.
Now she was suddenly getting them again after so long. What did that mean?
Her mares were as ambiguous as the seas and as were as prophetic as omens. They came in riddle tales that could turn out deceptive if interpreted in literal perception.
She had seen them come to past in stark different ways but still maintained its sense.
