“Couldn’t sleep?” the priest asked. Thomas didn’t answer. “I know. Stupid question. Hardly worthy of William of Ockham. I should have asked if you had bad dreams. I did. Would you like to know what about?” Thomas didn’t speak. “I was being led around the countryside by a little girl. There were horrid things in rivers and statues crawled off churches, and a great sickness had killed most everybody. I was starving, to boot.” Silence. “My only other companion was a moody, excommunicate knight who rarely spoke and didn’t have the slightest interest in hearing about my nightmares. And, of course,
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