The traveler stepped from the shadows, and into the light of the Dreamsmith's forge.

"Dreamsmith. Why should I care?"

The Dreamsmith studied her, metal jaw whirring.

"Care about what?" He asked

The traveler paused. Surely he understood her question.

"About anything."

The Dreamsmith nodded, and his flaming eyes brightened.

"Ah. I am afraid I cannot answer."

"What? Why not?" Came the traveler's shocked reply. "I thought you were supposed to be wise."

"Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not." The Dreamsmith shrugged. "Even so, my wisdom cannot answer this question."

"But... you care. Why can't you tell me your reason for caring?"

"You did not ask for my reason. You asked for one that would work for you."

The traveler considered this. 

"I suppose I did not. Why do you care?"

"Ah, that, I can answer." The Dreamsmith smiled. "I care because I wish our Author to care."

"That... What? Does our Author not care already?"

"He does. And yet, if we do not care, I fear he will not care either."

"That... does not make a great deal of sense."

"I know. Perhaps it will make more sense if I show you what Subversion is doing right now."

The Dreamsmith closed his eyes and concentrated.

"What she is doing?" The traveler scowled. "Why should that matt-

Pages spread before her. Simple, white paper, with words handwritten in ink. She read them, and this is what they said:

A man woke up, knowing that his world was going to end today. He did not know how he knew this, only that it was true. The man ran from his house, screaming incoherently. The man was struck by a car, and as he lay there dying, his world ended in the cacophony of a sun's supernova.

A boy woke up, knowing that his world was going to end today. His father made breakfast for him and his sister, and they ate in silence. As he looked at his younger sister, the boy saw that she did not know. A part of him wanted to tell her, but in the end he could not bring himself to do it. The boy looked at his father, who smiled at him in an encouraging sort of way. Despite the smile, the boy looked at his father's eyes and saw the knowledge they held.

A father spent a sleepless night, knowing that his world was going to end tomorrow. In the morning, he drove home before his children woke up, thanked his brother for watching them, and made breakfast for himself and his children. After that, he drove his children to the hospital so they could watch their mother die.

A wife did not go to sleep, knowing she would not wake again. She was tired, though. So very tired. But she waited until her husband returned, with their children. Her heart broke as she hugged them one last time, saw that her son understood where his sister did not. Most of all her heart broke for her husband, in whose eyes she saw a world ending. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Tears flowed, but he did not say what she knew he felt. I love you, he said instead. His eyes said what his mouth could not. I'm not ready, they said as their children clung to her. Please, don't go, said his eyes as her vision started to fade. The wife felt tears in her own eyes, but she could not stay. So she died. And three worlds ended in the silence of a once-beating heart.

"Do you see the tears?"

As the Dreamsmith spoke, tearstains appeared on the pages.

"I see them." The traveler replied. "Where do they come from?"

"From her. From him. She wanted to know if Authors really care about the stories they write, about the people in them. She has her answer, and so, by proxy, do you."

The Dreamsmith closed his eyes.

"The Author cares about us. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But if we do not care, he will forget that we are alive. Or perhaps, never learn that we are alive. And so I care, to remind him."

The traveler considered this for a good long while.

"Your answer... does not fit me."

"I knew it would not."

The traveler looked at him questioningly.

"Then my quest is pointless? If even you cannot give me the answer..."

"Pointless? perhaps."

The Dreamsmith fell silent, then. He watched the traveler's shoulders slump, her failure assert itself.

"Thank you for your help." She said morosely, and turned to go. "I suppose now that I have failed, I should return to Subversion so that she can destroy me."

As the traveler began to fade from the Dreamsmith's workshop, she heard his voice once again.

"As you have asked a question of me, it is only fair that I ask one of you."

The traveler strained to hear the Dreamsmith's wavering voice, fighting to remain just a little longer to hear this question.

"Why, traveler, do you care?"

The traveler awoke on a dusty road. She stood, and looked up and down the path. To the north, she could see the path led towards wilderness, the continuation of her pointless quest. To the south, the path led to a darkened place, where she knew Subversion would be waiting.

Dreamsmith's question ringing in her mind, the traveler set off on the southward path.