Trace retired that night to his room next to the stables. It was a warm, humid evening, and a storm was coming. That was terribly inconvenient.
For one thing, it meant that the horses would be restless. If one of them panicked and became injured, he would be woken to help deal with the problem. For another thing, the thunder often woke others, interrupting the dreams he was investigating.
That could be a problem.
The mattress was also incredibly uncomfortable here. He briefly considered moving to a stack of hay in the barn, but ultimately just rolled over and decided to make the best of things.
Closing his eyes, it wasn't long before the sound of distant thunder faded and the pleasant breeze of his own dream world could be heard.
Wasting no time, he quickly found himself racing amongst the translucent bubbles of other people's dreams. He couldn't find the one he was looking for. Was she up late?
