He stepped into the hot spray of water and let the warmth ease the ache in the scar tissue on his chest. The wounds the Old One had given him were long-healed, but the scar tissue was there, reminding him of that encounter. Cold, damp mornings made it hurt more than usual and sometimes he felt far older than his twenty-nine years. He rolled his neck, loosening the muscles, then glanced in the shaving mirror. He tugged at a strand of his medium brown hair. It was starting to get long, at least it wasn’t as curly as his brother’s mop.
There were dark circles under his eyes, the nightmare was beginning to snatch more and more sleep from him. Once he woke from it, he couldn’t get back to sleep—he’d never been able to, and the fact that
the dream was back haunting him was worrying. He knew he’d have to talk to Rob about it sooner or later, but knowing his brother’s tendency to growl, he was trying to avoid the conversation for awhile.