[h3]The Hunter's Dream[/h3]
The four Hunters crowded around the golden plinth on top of which its shiny lantern sat, majestically demanding their attention. Vicar Harold waved to them a final time before walking back down the stair to his garden, and the light filled the Hunters' vision and carried them back to the Dream.

As had been the case every time he had traveled to the Dream Farren felt a strange tremor go through his blood, only for the cold rain that had so far been falling straight vertically to begin to change their trajectory, carried by brisk gusts of wind blowing through the area. But as concerning as the weather changing in the Dream yet again might be, it was likely nothing next to the sensation of the abrupt and total return of the burdens that had been lifted from Farren's consciousness.
The safety, the homeliness and the warmth Farren had felt in the vicar's presence all vanished as soon as he left his presence, and the paranoia and mostly-forgotten madness returned to sink their wicked claws into his mind anew. But even so, even having left, Farren would still feel himself convinced that Harold had just been a [color=gray]trustworthy, nice old man[/color]... but that was all. That was the only compulsion that stayed with him.

“Okay... so that just happened,” Gerlinde said, grinning and shaking her head slowly. “I vote we don't do that again, yeah?”