Servyn, who has been feeling sensitive lately, picked up on her soft whimpers. He arose from bed taking hushed steps towards where she laid on the furnished sofa. His eyes squinted thoughtfully.
Upon drawing closer to her, the little burnt out candle which had its last fire blustering with the cool wind, shone on her face.
She was crying? Servyn frowned. Dried tears streamlined the skin down to her chin with fresh ones trailing after.
"Hermione? Hermione?" Servyn bent low, whispering her name calmly trying to wake her up. But instead her incoherent and jumbled words increased.
"Help, help!" She kept chanting while sobbing greatly.
"Hermione." With a pat on her shoulder which was lifted by her side, he called out to her but she didn't respond.
Servyn sighed in confusion. He didn't know what was happening. Was she dreaming? What dream could it be that she refused to wake up? Or could it be that she was unable to wake up?
