It was several weeks later that Bolt actually saw his first
nightmare.
It was a weekend, and as Freddie had spent the entire day
inside, the rain making the world seem cold and dreary, his mother had insisted
on piling up all the toys in the living room and watching movies all day. It
had seemed a pitiful crowd compared to the groups that would gather for a
similar event at the Workshop, but the population of toys were minimum, and he
and Chester seemed to be the only living toys.
Bolt could kind of see her point, Freddie had had a
screaming fit on waking up this morning, teary and terrified, and begging
"Don't leave me, don't leave me!" It was the most Bolt had ever heard
Freddie say in one day.
So they were set up in the living room, and there was no one
left to check for cracks, or portals, or anything.
"They will be back tonight." Chester had said in
the brief space of time they got while Freddie cleaned his teeth.
Bolt had nodded, ready for another night of listening to
those things linger over Freddie's fear.
Freddie got a bed time story and a good night kiss from mum,
"Love you honey, I'm not going anywhere." She said, after Freddie
dropped into a restless sleep. She lingered in the doorway, watching.
And for once Freddie and Bolt wasn't hiden under the covers.
"Can we...?" Bolt asked, wiggling out of Freddie's
hold.
Chester climbed down from his spot and shook his head.
"Not a good idea."
Freddie whimpered.
There was a sound. clip clop. Clip clop.
Bolt inched closer to Chester. "I was top of my class
in Defence." Bolt reminded himself.
"Good." Chester said, "You know how to use a
sword?"
Remembering his training, Bolt took a deep breath and on the
exhale his blade appeared in his hand.
Chester grinned at him, "Good boy." And without
any ceremony the rabbit was holding a bow, and sighting an arrow.
There was a rumbling sound.
"Guard the boy." Chester ordered, and the World
shifted.
Dozens of dark patches skated along the walls and ceiling,
dancing gracefully around the lights seeping in from outside the room.
Chester shot, and the suggestion of a horse scattered into
dust.
Again and again Chester shot, the Nightmares barely had a
chance, as the rabbit bounced from bed, to table, to chair, to anyplace he
could get a better shot from.
Bolt stood ready over Freddie, waiting and watching.
Chester drew a dozen arrows, one after another. A bright
light against the darkness, burning much like Bolt's sword shone.
But the arrows were getting darker. A pale gleam compared to
the radiance of before.
One Nightmare darted too close, and Bolt finally got a close
look.
It held the suggestion of a horse, all thin lines and steady
movement, until you saw it's face, saw it's teeth. Jagged spikes lined it's
mouth, empty sockets where eyes should be, ragged darkness where there should
be a mane.
Bolt jabbed and the nightmare fell before him, Bolt coughing
at the shadow dust that flared out over him.
The Nightmares screamed, a soul tearing cry in the night,
and fled.
Bolt sat down.
"Chester?" There wasn't a peep from the old
rabbit. "Chester!?" Bolt called, crawling to the edge of the bed,
eyes trying to pierce the darkness.
There was a small figure on the floor, lying down, right
where the sun would hit in the morning.
It held up a paw, breathing heavily.
"Chester..." Bolt sighed in relief.
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