Chester's premonition proved true later that night.
The Monster returned.
Darkness pooled beneath the bed again, and Chester, rather
than choising to go down with his sword, stood on the edge of the bed and drew
his bow.
There was a dull glow to his arrow, and Chester glared at
it.
Bolt slipped out from Freddie's grip to stand beside him.
"Let me help." Bolt said, leaning into Chester's
personal space, drawing his sword.
It glowed bright and silver, lighting the dark shadows below
them.
"I can do this." Chester growled at him.
"I know." Bolt replied, and offered his sword hilm
first. "But you aren't alone."
Chester glanced at the sword, and back up to Bolt.
"You..."
"Please." Bolt said, and Chester huffed.
"This is a bad idea." Chester said, grasping the
sword.
"I trust you." Bolt replied, stepping back.
Chester nodded, and leaped down into the fray.
The shadows fled before him, but not away. Bolt kept
scanning for the source.
Chester slashed and jabbed, moving like a much younger Ted.
The shadows teased him, never attacking as one.
Bolt frowned, something was wrong here.
"Bolt." Something hissed at him from behind, and
Bolt spun around. "Little brother."
The Monster from before, the dragon.
Bolt reached for his sword automatically, and grasped at
nothing.
Bolt's eyes flickered to Freddie, and saw brown eyes
watching them fearfully. The monster was between them.
Freddie didn't make a peep.
"Don't..." Bolt said, "You're not!" Bolt
left, trying to get past the monster.
Freddie!
The shadows surged around him.
No!
"Mine!" Hissed the dragon.
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