The kit looked as if he had been slapped. He had woken up in a cold sweat that morning, panting, out of breath. He had wandered from the nursery in the early morning dim. It wasn't normal for a kit to be this way, but he wasn't like a normal kit anyways. Bronzekit sighed, his breath hitching in his throat before it had finally calmed down. He was having nightmares about the yule festival. Vivid imagery of himself up there on the rocks, having to die. He wasn't sure why, but every time the vision came to him he went still, shivering to recover as if boxed across the temple. He was old enough to be an apprentice at this point, but like this? He didn't have a chance.