SWEET DREAMS

Sleep had never been one of those things that Pepper had appreciated. Since the travesty of the summer time event involving the dreams of a maddened god, Pepper had become wary about the boundary between the sleeping and the waking world, as it seemed exceedingly obvious that they could influence each other.

And, in some cases, could completely overwrite one another.

It was not something that Pepper was keen to replicate, though she knew deep in her heart that if given the opportunity, she likely would if it meant that she would reach the goals she had set for herself. She almost wanted to see if the extremes she had seen were something that could be broken, but then again, it was unclear whether those experiences had even been real to her or another version of her that only existed in the dreams of a sleeping god.

As it turned out, that god went by Dipsi these days, and she wondered of maybe that had always been their name, or if she was remembering it incorrectly on purpose.

Regardless, she found herself in an unfamiliar place. It was always dark in this part of the realm, and she was far removed from Woolhope, still traveling to Corriedale with the worst driver in all of the realm taking her there. It seemed that they couldn’t go longer than a day without the wagon breaking down, thus ruining her previous perception of the sturdiness of the thing. The age of the stagecoach was merely that.

This time, Pepper was in a little cottage situated outside of a hamlet that had no name. The fox who owned the cottage had been kind enough to let her and the driver stay for the evening, just until the sun came back up. The two of them could share a room until then and there was the assurance that it would be deliciously warm and the beds would be wonderfully comfortable. The perfect time to sleep well.

The problem was that Pepper did not sleep well. Dreams were one of those things that came infrequently and when they did, they were often fraught with peril and fear and anxiety. Something that proved to be more bothersome than anything else.

This evening was no different, though if she were being more generous, it was more like a premonition than a dream. Nestled in the bountiful blankets provided by their host, Pepper sank into the annals of slumber after several false starts from the hideous snoring from the stagecoach driver. The dream that came was…

Well it was a dream.

It started as any other. Darkness paired with a tumultuous series of feelings and sensations. Jittering in place, visual snow, creaking and groaning, snapping static. It was overwhelming in its totality, but this was the section of the dreams that lasted the longest. Everything else came very quickly. Flashes of light, feelings of betrayal and fear and then anger. Snow falling, chilly winds. It was always more of the same.

But now, it shifted yet again. It was summer. Warm and happy, filled with joy and foxes who were comfortable with themselves. It was an unfamiliar feeling and Pepper was resistant to it for a long time until a familiar face arose from the sea.

Clover.

Clover was a fox that was a light grey in color overall. White hair tied into a tight ponytail. A flower eyepatch. And while some of the rest of the colors of his shawl and vest like decorations swam through a sea of other colors - some matching, but most not - his softness was still there. Pepper was certain she had never met this fox before. She would have remembered the fancy filigree patterns that adorned his legs and how light and airy the ruffles on his arms moved when he motioned for her to come closer.

He spoke words that she could not hear, but she could somehow understand his intentions. This was a friend, she was sure of it. Even the oscillating colors eventually settled on dark greens and purples and the words he spoke became a little clearer, though still not enough for Pepper to make them out.

Was this going to be what they were going to do all night? Stare at each other with a lingering and vague sense of familiarity? Not that it would have been a bad thing if that was what they did end up doing for the evening, but it seemed a bit boring to do it like this. Pepper was curious. Normally, she disliked seeing others who looked at her like she was a friend without explicitly knowing them. Without explicitly going through the ordeals of forging a friendship. She disliked foxes assuming that they could know her, because so far it had been more like them assuming she was helpless or a child because she was Mini.

The dream, however, did not go much farther than that. She was walking after Clover, trying to keep up with him. Trying to find him almost because she did kind of like him and did want to forge that friendship because that familiarity likely had come from somewhere, even if the exact origins were not clear in the moment. The faster she walked, the farther Clover got away from her, and even when she broke into an obvious run, he never came closer.

He seemed perturbed by this, as he was also trying to bridge that gap, yelling at her to come find him so they could do this friendship thing the right way.

There was a thread that linked them. Pepper could see it coming from her heart, right into his. They had definitely seen each other before, she was sure of it. And in a blinding flash of light, Pepper awoke, sun beaming through the shades of the cottage she was staying in, warm rays in her eyes.

She closed them again, willing herself to go back to sleep so she could see that grey fox again.

“Hey, wake up, miss,” the driver fox said, getting out of his own bed. “Gotta hit the road now.”

“Do you know a grey fox with a flower eyepatch by any chance?” Pepper asked.

“Nah, but I’ll keep an eye out for ya.”