He had always woke before dawn, just shortly before, and used the hour or so of privacy there was in the day to feed the animals and prepare breakfast. This was of course done after his orders were received and studied. Like usual the papers were unceremoniously shoved under his door; a show of trust by High Paladin Dorinth. There were meant for his eyes only: none of his wife's business by all their accounts. To him the secrecy mattered little and often shared vague details of his work with Lillany. Her support and knowledge of the area was invaluable to him.
Just like every other morning he started the fire and prepared the cauldron of water to boil before sitting at the massive desk on the other side of the room so not to wake the woman still dozing in bed. A simple gesture would illuminate the area which had become an alcove of woods and paper over the years. Surrounding the desk were shelves lined with tomes: so much that he had already spoken up about the shrinking living space to Lillany. That was over a year ago and her collection had only grown since then. At least the desk was clear, he thought as he pulled apart his orders and splayed them out over the wooden surface in the poor light.
They would send him away for weeks it seemed. Disappointment welled up inside of him at the news he read over. There was a time he loved travelling alone to work; the solitude was good for him and reminded him of his youth, days long past. These days he grew discontent when separated from his wife: they wanted a family if it was possible and orders like these were counter-productive to that. Words of concern were given to Dorinth on the topic months ago and he rebuked with the concept that he had a family in the Order: his Brothers and Sisters. Surely the man knew there was a difference, he had a wife and two sons himself.
They're using you, my love, were words whispered so delicately into his heart that his hair stood on end. The voice was Lillany's and a quick check over his shoulder confirmed she was still quite asleep in bed. He tried to push the feeling away and go back to his reading but the voice nagged at him further. The closer you are to me the further you are from them. They're liars, Hok, and will leave you a husk of who you are. The words brought forth tears that blurred his reading. It was useless at this point. Worse yet he knew they spoke the truth. He knew exactly what was going to happen and had no power in changing it: perhaps if she had really spoken those words so long ago? Take me and run, fool. This path you've chosen led you to me: discard them before they discard you. Blaming a dead woman for not speaking her mind thirty-some years ago was enough to make him roll his orders up and stuff them away for later. He wouldn't have listened to her anyway back then. They taught him duty and responsibility: what was his happiness compared to the self-sacrifice his Order demanded?
Feeding the animals would clear his head, surely, and he would quietly make his way out the door. Things had to be done after all or she might suspect he had the same doubts she did. Doubts neither dared share with each other. If he didn't get to his chores they might have discussed this all and things might not have turned out the way they did and it was far too late to be changing things now.
Thorns. Briar. Dirt. The smell of lake and trees instead of paved stones and the perpetual smell of forges.
If not for his hide he would have woken up tangled in a mass of bloody scratches that demanded attention. Instead he woke up with the rare string of curses that distracted him mentally enough where he allowed himself free of the branches and vines. Sleepwalking and dreams only meant that spring approached. "No," he corrected his thoughts quietly so not to wake the sleeper inside. "Nightmares." By the Abyss he hated the warmer seasons: there was no peace to be had. Even when he slept his mind was restless and his heart was not so placid as to allow a simple, benevolent dream. He would be off to hunt, then, in the darkness before dawn. A bloody breakfast would be left in the same briars some time later for the inhabitant there. The ghost would get nothing: it was a dirty game to haunt someone while they slept. Besides, he was lucid enough to understand tricks the subconscious played.