Christina finally yielded, and lay still in an oversized armchair, having tried in vain to rest for the last hour or so. The macabre events of the last few days (especially poor Joshew's passing) had finally caught up with her mind, arresting her slumber moreso than before. Unlike her previous late- night medical affairs, Dr. Brownwell desperately required her sleep to-night in order to successfully infiltrate the University under the pretense of returning the scholar's body.

               The mouse doctor sighed and turned again on the deceitfully comfortable furniture-it was not to her liking, utilizing a fallen comrade for gains, but this was for the better good, or so had Alarice declared. She'd almost fallen asleep this time if not for the fearsome and sudden squelching noises from beyond the wall, where Wiesen was performing the last post-mortem rites for Joshew's body.

               With precious seconds ticking by, the insomniac doctor had had her fill. Throwing off the thin covers in a huff, Christina fished a corked glass tube from within her dress, grumbling and being careful not to slice herself upon pins and needles she had secreted there.  Rummaging in her other hidden pocket (mumbling furiously all the while), she finally produced a minute, hand-fashioned, wooden spoon. With practiced deftness, the cross, tired doctor unstopped the tube, poured three orange drops onto her personal cutlery, and downed them with a grimace; despite having had the same concontion on different occasions, Christina could never come to bear its bitter, sour taste.

               At once, the potion began to work- the mouse had barely enough time to cork the tube before her arms fell limp in sleep. Despite the medicine's success, Dr. Brownwell dreamt fitfully- the previous attack on their company replayed itself, albeit with more ghastly reiterations- Joshew's haggard, pale shade wracked her mind- moaning woefully at her failure in resuscitating him….deep seated fears of Aodhan, Aurelie and the Cruff's demise at the hands of the church-

               She screamed- and the vivid, horrendous psychoses of sleep suddenly fell away to nothingness- and so wept Christina, huddling upon herself in darkness. She didn't feel it at once, but she soon came to realize the gentle and familiar touch of a hoof on her shoulder.

               In alarm, the good doctor spun around, and looked up into the beatific smile of a Tobias Severna, her once obnoxious pronghorn patient she had come to grow fond of…and down unto his...rather healthy, if not majestic,  'horn'.

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               Wiesen dropped the makings of the shroud, and ran headlong into the other room upon hearing the shrill shriek. With no signs of ceasing, Wiesen burst through the door.  'Doctor Brown!'

               The mouse was sitting stock-still on the armchair, profusely sweating, eyes wide and focused on nothingness. Wiesen came to her side, gently shaking her to alertness. “Doctor! Doctor Brown! Wake up! What happened?"

Doctor Brownwell came to, and sighed, resting her forehead upon an arm- “ Wiesen…oh. Apologies, but I'll be fine. I just happened to have a nightmare. "   'Are you sure, perhaps you would like a drink?' Turning, she smiled weakly to her comrade. “I'll be fine, but thank you for the offer." Wiesen's face was still tinged with worry, but with a brisk nod he headed back to his business, closing the door lightly behind him.

               As soon as he was gone, Christina slumped back onto the chair- paw over eyes in embarrassment. “Oof- That's the last time I take my own medicine…"