He sat, cross-legged, in a field of ethereal grass. The form and shape of the ground around him shifted and twisted at the ebb and flow of his mind. It was still when his was clear, violent when not. Normally, the grass cut at his mind, constantly shifting at the borders of his consciousness, but not today.
Today, his meditation was silent. The grass laid still, his mind clear and and his purpose singular - to keep it that way.
The call seemed distant - shouted from a voice miles away. Garret paid it little heed and continued.
This call was loud enough to jar his focus, though only briefly. After a quick spasm, the grass resettled.
At this, a flash of pain erupted at the back of his head, and all at once, he rejoined the material world, sitting, cross-legged, in a patch of very real grass.
"SON OF A... That hurt!"
"I wouldn't need to do that if you'd come when I call you." The man standing over him, the head monk Master Shen, in his late fifties and garbed in white robes, motioned for Garret to stand.
"I have an errand I'd like you to run in town." Garret visibly tensed at these words.
"In town? Uh..." He briefly cast his vision around the monastery courtyard, his eyes landing on a fellow monk. "Brother Tai doesn't seem busy. Why not send him?"
"Because I asked YOU do to it, not Brother Tai." Seeing Garret's growing distress, Shen sighed and put his hand on his shoulder. "Garret, I know it's hard, but you can't run from your problems forever. Consider it a part of your training."
Garret made a motion to protest, but realized the futility before he finished. With a resigned sigh, he asked, "What would you have me do, Master?"
"Just head into town and talk to Mordekai. He's just gotten in our shipment of ink and parchment, and I want you to inspect it before it's sent in."
"Yes, Master Shen. Consider it done." With a bow, he gathered his satchel and left the monastery, trekking down the dirt road that lead to town.
'Don't panic. DON'T PANIC. My meditation went well. If I focus, I can block it out.'
No sooner than he had that thought, however, and the familiar pall of dread began to creep into his mind. 'Deep breath, Garret. Block it out.' He paused briefly and centered himself, and relaxed as it left his mind.
However, as he returned to himself, he realized he wasn't even halfway to town. 'It doesn't normally start to come until I'm at the outskirts. That means...' Alarmed, he tensed himself and surveyed his surroundings frantically.
From the corner of his vision, he saw a club coming down on him. He dodged it with a step to the side, lunged forward at his assailant, and with a brief flourish, tore the club from his hands. With an equally swift swing, Garret slammed the club into the man's head, who feel the the ground, alive but unconscious.
"Impressive. I suppose the monks around here aren't as weak as we assumed." A bear of a man emerged from the shadows along the road, standing at least six feet tall with a large scar running down his massive arms. At his sides stood a dozen men, each armed with a weapon of some sort. They quickly rushed to surround Garret - he was trapped.
"Garret Josiah. Wanted in three counties down in Reaak. There's an awfully large bounty on your head, boy. More alive than dead, though, so I'd appreciate it if you'd come quietly."
"Did Emilio Bavvard send you?"
"So THAT'S the guy you pissed off. Nah, he didn't. But I'll say it again: Come quietly, or this'll get ugly."
The man sighed and motioned to the men immediately at his side. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
They charged at him - Both armed with spears - and Garret assumed his fighting stance. His prescience told him that they'd motion to surround him - and there wasn't much he could do against two armed opponents once they did.
He ran, twirled and dodged, moving as fast as he could to dodge the constant onslaught of thrusts and swipes. It continued until, in his growing exhaustion, his prescience overlooked a simple stone in the side of the road. As he slid to the side, Garrets' foot caught it, and he tumbled to the ground. No sooner than he was on the ground, he felt a boot stamp down on his back, knocking the wind out of him.
"Slippery little shit, aren't ya?"
Garret felt a dull blow to the back of his head, and the world around him went dark.