"Beware when day meets dark. Beware crossroads, where they skulk. They can lurk in fire's crackle and easily travel on sparks. Beware gloomy places among rocks, under things, down holes and caves and shafts of every kind. Beware crags and edges and water's brink - the fey creatures slip along borders, where this meets that.
Some are of terrible icy beauty. Most are shaped by whim. They often crave attention. Pray not provoke them, for they revel in causing extravagant harm, and are dangerous in the extreme. They are tireless hunters, these thieves of magic, without empathy, without a soul.
Mark well my words: Beware the Chimes, and if need be great, draw for yourself thrice on the barren earth, in sand and salt and blood, a Fatal Grace."
(Terry Goodkind)

I awoke from a dead sleep, feeling the shadows of night creeping into every crevice of the packed wagon. Someone had called my name. I had even answered, out loud "Yes? What is it?" I threw back the blankets, the furs, the brisk nip of air a fresh onslaught on my damp skin. I was warm, overly warm, but not clammy as if from fever. This was an inner heat, a delirious warmth that left a trickle of moisture beneath the linen dress I wore. I brushed back my hair and studied the dark lines around me, straining for the repeat of the voice. I was that sure I had heard it. My small warming fire glimmered with a red smile as I crawled forward, leaving the trail of coverings in my wake. Outside, under the sliver of moonlight that barely brightened the muddy grass, hardly a night whisper disturbed the solitude. This air reminded me that I was barely dressed, but still I needed no extra coverings. I listened again, trying to find the hiss of breeze, the rustle of grass to make that calling sound again.

From my vantage point at the crest of the seat on the wagon I would have been able to see a great expanse of the plains during the day, but the uncooperative light of the night created only dusky shadow layered upon more of the same. Far in the distance I knew my Seeker still stood. stationary, watching. Perhaps I should have been afraid, and the throbbing of my heart like a winged creature captured in my ribcage seemed like I was. But it wasn't fear that I felt. An anticipation, excitement, uncertainty. and almost...wonder filled me, and kept me awake for a good ahn after.

It could have been a dream. It must have been a dream. That is the only logical explanation. But it was so real. Real enough that I circled the wagon several times once daylight arrived, searching the muck for signs of life. Footprints, of any kind. A sign of some sort....something that would give me an answer. The plains are cruel in their bleak nothingness. So I took a good look at my crooked wheel, the bent axel, and the rail that surrounded the seat. And I am going to fix that wagon.