Plays didn't know much about Rhiow's world, but he knew a bad car crash when he saw one. He gingerly extracted the cat from his shirt and cradled her against his chest. He watched as they pulled the body from the mangled taxi, a frown creasing his features. One of his hands absent-mindedly pet at Rhiow's head (that's what you did to cats, after all).
"...it's OK, Rhiow. This is just a dream. This isn't real. Remember that. Fight him... Come on."
He swallowed, "...talk to me about it. Let it out. I'm here."
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"...it's OK, Rhiow. This is just a dream. This isn't real. Remember that. Fight him... Come on."
He swallowed, "...talk to me about it. Let it out. I'm here."