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Dark.
So very dark.
His footpaws pounded over stone, stumbling on loose rocks before continuing on again. He could hear his own ragged breathing echoing off stone walls. It was following him, coming nearer, always nearer.
He slid around a corner, nearly falling in his haste. The stone was rough under his footpaws, but he could not stop. He could hear it still slithering after him. Never speeding up, but never slowing down. It was coming for him.
His footpaw caught on a loose stone and he fell. He lay there panting, hoping against hope that it would not see him, that it would pass him by. It came closer, hissing a word he could not hope to understand. He tried to scramble upright, to bolt ahead once again. But he was too late. It was upon him, wrapping in its tight, sinewy embrace, clutching him tighter and tighter. And hissing, always hissing.
“Matthiassssss.”
He struggled, trying to break free.
“Matthiassssss.”
It grabbed him even tighter, shaking him by the shoulders
“Matthias!”
Matthias woke with a start, nearly tumbling from the bed as the dream left him. Redwall Abbey’s resident badger mother, Constance, had him gently by the shoulders, a look of concern etched across her wide face.
“Matthias,” she said softly, “Are you alright? You’ve gotten yourself all tangled in the bedclothes.”
Looking down, he saw that she was right. The blankets had become tangled about his legs and torso, trapping him in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath. “I think I’m okay now, Constance.”
Constance helped him out of the sheets, smoothing them back down as she continued to watch him. “What do you say we go down to the kitchen and get you some warm greensap milk?” she suggested.
Matthias nodded, not yet willing to return to the cold embrace of sleep. “Yes, please,” he murmured. He followed her down to the kitchen, where Friar Hugo was already up preparing breakfast.
“What have we here?” he asked as they entered.
Constance smiled and winked at the friar. “One brave warrior of the night in need of warm milk, if you would friar.”
Friar Hugo slyly returned the wink and grin. “I suppose he’d like a bit of honey in it too?” Matthias nodded immediately. Friar Hugo chuckled. “Well then, little one, why don’t you come sit over here while I make it, hm?”
Soon, sated with warm milk, and wrapped in the delicious smell of the kitchen, Matthias began to yawn.
Constance swept him up in one huge paw, hugging him close. “Come now, little one, let’s get you back to the nursery.” Matthias snuggled against her fur, grateful that he was still young enough to be allowed such comfort. Constance was warm and smelled of clean summer grass, and her slow, rolling stride soon lulled him back into a slumber free of dark tunnel and stone walls, but filled instead with the sunlight and laughter of happy forests and quiet glades.
Constance paused in Great Hall, staring up at the tapestry of Martin. She was used to the effect of the warrior’s eyes following her around the hall, but tonight it seemed that he looked not at her, but at the sleeping dibbun she held in her paws. If she hadn’t already known better, she would have sworn that the warrior smiled just a little. Nodding briefly to the tapestry, as she often did, Constance continued on her way up the steps into the gentle darkness of the sleeping abbey, satisfied that her small charge was safe from nightmares until morning.