The red dust is a memory a second later as they fall. This dream has a sharpness to it, a hyper-real cast to it. Colours are sharper, physical sensations are heightened, and there is so much pain.

Her wings have ice on them, her body is so cold. He's forgotten again, that she needs healing. Micah is so busy listening to the universe, to find what he's looking for through her that he fails to notice the one thing he should before they stall. The falling dream (it's a dream, dammit) is back and she can feel the way the magic blast envelops her body, sizzling along her skin, crackling through her bones and nerves.

He notices, then, as they plummet toward the snow. Her angel, Micah, snaps back from his stupid reverie or his search, whatever it had been, just in time. There's still an explosion of snow and he retreats to fix his mess.

Merlan lays there, her wings spread as if she were a stunned bird, and watches the snow swirl as she pulls in breaths. Things are broken. Many things and all she can do is watch the snow.

Her lips move soundlessly as the wings begin to disappear.

This is a dream.

God help her, she's never been so tired but she will control it this time. With a little help, perhaps.