Page 1 of Traveler (Soulbound #1)

Aly

The last thing I saw was the snow , coming fast at my face. Falling was not a great idea. Before I can slam hard into the face of the earth, I Am blinking my eyes open, I roll over to turn off my alarm clock. Ugh. Honestly, who the hell allowed me to pick an 8 am class? If I could go back in time to when I selected classes and slap myself, I totally would.

Dragging myself out of bed, I walk to my bathroom without turning on the light. I splash my face with some water and grab my toothbrush. Looking in the mirror, I grimace at the sight. Dear lord , last night's dream was crazier than I thought. When I turned 20, I started having the most vivid dreams. My mom used to have them, too. Every morning at breakfast, she would sit down and tell me about her dreams and the rules that went along with them—saying I'd likely inherit them as well. It used to be my favorite part of my day.

The rules were always the same. 1. Never do something in the dream You wouldn't do in real life. 2. Search every dream for Your guardian angel 3. Never tell anyone but Your guardian angel You’re dreaming.

Mom told me, my guardian angel would follow me through every dream and help guide me through it. She said it took her time to find hers until she noticed the same guy showing up in all her dreams. I hadn't noticed anyone until recently, but just like Mom said, there she was in every dream I can remember. I haven’t worked up the courage to talk to her, but I would soon. Maybe.

Last night's dream was super fun, though. Well, until the end. I lived my best life like Katara from The Last Airbender: tundra, Waterpower’s, and all. Right before I woke up this morning, I had slipped off a glacier and taken quite the tumble; based on the image looking back at me in the mirror, I'm glad I don’t have a boyfriend, or that poor man would probably have gotten a taste of my nonexistent kung-fu skills.

Shaking my head, I take a brush to my hair. Once I have my dark Curls under control, I decide I probably should blow dry my white face-framing pieces. I really should have thought through the hairstyle when I dyed my hair like this the last time I went to the hairdresser. In my defense, it looks fantastic. It just means I have to at least style the white pieces, so my curtain bangs don't look like limp noodles. Trust me, it is not a good look.

Walking to my closet, I grab a pair of baggy jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater to wear. Snatching my bag off the floor by my door, I walk down the hallway, throwing my bag over my shoulder as I slide down the railing of the stairs. When I get to the bottom, I grab my favorite pair of black combat boots and give myself a once over in the mirror before rushing out of the door to my car.

Honestly, I’m super lucky. If You ignore the whole, both my parents are dead thing, which I choose to do. I’m thankfully not Your typical broke college student. I own my home and car and have enough money to put myself through college and support myself for a few years if I need to without struggling too much. But I'm frugal, so I could stretch it a little longer. I'm not planning to, but just knowing I could, makes me give myself a mental high-five. Yay, financial responsibility! Gag . Seriously, this whole adult thing is a total scam. Who looked at the rest of the world and said, ‘18 is a good age to allow these CHILDREN to play grown up. They are totally capable.’ Prison immediately.

Any who, back to my dreams, I’m the world's best lucid dreamer. At least, that's how my mom explained it. Although I don't think lucid dreaming is the best way to describe it. When I googled it, everything said lucid dreaming was when You could manipulate the dream into what You want it to be. I can't do that, not because of a lack of effort, but because it's more like an insanely vivid dream. Avid readers say they live a thousand lives in their books. I do that in my dreams. Once, I had a dream. I was in the middle of a Coup to overthrow the queen. Of what country, I have no idea, but I gotta say, if I ever have the dream again, I have some ideas of how to not end up on the chopping block. Literally. The mental image of me running down cobblestone streets, trying to avoid the guards, was an image that haunted me for months. Pulling into the parking lot for my favorite coffee shop, I take a deep breath. Me + No coffee = a monster the world is not prepared for.

“Aly, Hey! “Alora, the barista that takes my order every morning, says, holding up a Latte I pray to the gods is for me.

“Please tell me that’s mine?” I say with a smirk. Don't look at me like that . You're telling me You don't flirt with the pretty barista? Liar

“Yep, pay the ransom of 7 dollars and 50 cents, and nothing bad will happen.” She snarks back. One hand is on her hip, and the other point is at the register.

“Damn, I need to step up my flirting game.” Rolling my eyes, I pull out a ten and trade it slowly like it’s a hostage from NCIS.

“Girl, you’re hot and all, but I like sausage parties, and unless You're hiding one somewhere....” she tracks her eyes down my body in silent question.

“Nope, no smuggled sausages… but I figured we could have one hostage negotiation didn't have a steep price tag if I flirted a little.” Laughing, I wave as I head out of the door.

When I reach for the handle, I hear Alora say, “Never, Mamma has to pay bills, and a life of crime was always my dream.”

I laugh as I reach for the door again and make my way back to my car to mentally prepare to sit through my Psych class. Look, I'm totally interested in the topic, but there is nothing quite as sleep-inducing as Your monotone professor who talks at five words a minute explaining how trauma affects Your brain. Bor-ing.

I find my seat near the back and pull out my notebook. When the professor walks in, he moves to the front of the class and starts explaining the differences between attachment styles. Like I said, complete snooze fest. About halfway through the class, my mind wandered back to my dreams. The older I've gotten, the longer the dreams have lasted. I've never had the same one twice, and the only constant through them all is the girl with blue hair. I know I needed to try to talk to her, but something about talking to her made what Mom said much more real. When my parents died, my parent's lawyer gave me a letter from my mom where she brought up the dreams again, but it was entirely more terrifying.

At the time, I thought she must have been a little off her rocker or that maybe she left that letter as a joke, and I’d find a different letter later. That never happened, but the one thing I had to hold on to was, I never found the ‘guardian angel’ my mom kept talking about, and somehow, in my mind, it was grounds for me to pretend everything else was wrong. Until I saw her. And I then kept seeing her. I mean, if I'm honest, it took me two months of dreams to consider the slight possibility that she was the one my mom was talking about. But I've never talked to her. I never let myself stare or acknowledge in any way that I saw her because the last thing I wanted was for her to decide if I wasn't going to talk to her that she would talk to me. Mom's message was short and terrifying. Plus, I mean, we've already discussed the ignoring the fact they are dead thing, so…