Rake's dreams were not peaceful.

There was a great crack in the earth, a rift in the moor - a ravine. Fetch stood on the other side, staring at him with the same confused unsettled expression that he held - but they did not seem to hear the wheezing, wet sounds from the rift in the earth.

He took a hoof step forward, then another, and another. The wheezes sounded heavy, and sticky, like there was blood in all the wrong places - and a wet, cracked cough interspersed with the panting wheezes only solidified this realization in Rake's mind.

Legs shaking, he took another hoof step, and swallowed. Then he forced himself to look down into the tear in the earth, his vision nearly immediately spinning. His chest felt tight, the noise, the sound, the gasping was louder, amplified. A mottled gold, blue and teal shape was down the sharp cliff like ridges of the ravine, at the bottom - a pool of dark blotting blood under the form.

He knew the shape well enough, eyes scraping the precise shape of mottled blue, golds and yellows searing into his sight.

"A... Are you... alive?" He creaked out of his throat; it felt drier and more cracked than he'd ever known possible. The mottled head lurched up, hair covering the eyes, and blood dribbled from the equine's mouth.

"... No one ever came for me. Not even you." Came the strained, weak voice - but it was somehow loud, booming in Rake's ears, and his gut felt heavy.

"I'm- I'm coming now, I'm coming. I'm coming to bring you home. Alright?"

"You won't find me. You know that."

"No- no, I don't. I'm going to drag you out."

The courser below tossed it's head, and eyes paler, deader than they should be bore into Rake's copper eyes, shining in the light. Dark blood ran down his chin.

"How do you know there's anything left of me?"

"What? Of course there is, I-" The gold courser's voice rose, like a crack of lightning, cutting Rake off. It spat its words with venom, and guilt anchored Rakehill in his spot.

"There's NOTHING LEFT. There's Nothing left of me, Rake. You can search under every brick, stone, rock, or blade of moor grass - and you will not even find where my bones bleach."

"Corr- that's not true, I was- I was-"

"You weren't sent. You had to beg and plead with Lapse, to even allow you this - It's been so long, Rake."

When Rake was torn out of the dream by the waking world, Fetch stood over him, nudging him - and he jerked away, bristling - and settled, seeing their shape.

"... Fetch. Did you - was there a-"

"There was a cut through the earth."