Leir slept like a dead man. He slept so soundly that he didn't even know he was asleep. There were no dreams. He didn't even have an internal voice explaining the ways of the world. Once Eiron left, Leir had simply turned around, reclined flat on his back, and closed his eyes.
The very next instant, as far he was concerned, Aeotha was hissing his name.
"What?" he answered immediately. In fact his reply came so quickly that he practically snapped it. His hand slapped against the rough stone wall and he sat up. His brow was damp with cold sweat. His shirt clung to his back and he was shivering violently. He had fallen asleep after all, and must have dreamt something.
He was on his feet with a blurry sort of headache. To the bars, frigidly cold and strong against his hands. He pulled in a deep breath and came to his senses.
"Skandra?" he called out. A torch was looming closer. "Praise be to Lorien," he said with a slow dryness. He yanked roughly on the bars in front him. The entire door shook on its hinges. It was impossibly heavy and he couldn't do much else to it.