A young woman limped through the forest she called home. One arm was wrapped around her midsection, where a wound sluggishly bled through her tattered shirt. Blood trickled from several other wounds and trailed down from her lips. It was perhaps the roughest shape she had ever found herself in. Well, that was what happened when one went looking for trouble, wasn't it? One usually found it. In this case it was in the form of a small group of Soulless. To be honest she felt lucky to be alive. Luckier still, she had been able to fight them off. Three had died and the other two had fled. Probably to fetch reinforcements. Wonderful. Death would descend upon her in no time at all.

...No! No, she mustn't think like that. She'd be safe once she reached the circle, and damnit, she was almost there! She just had to keep walking, had to keep going. She spat out a mouthful of blood. Damnit. She was just leaving them a trail! Still...she would be safe once she reached that place. Pale eyes closed as she leaned against a tree for a moment, sighing heavily. She only paused a moment, however, before continuing on her way.

She had discovered that circle quite by accident about five days ago. At least, she thought it was five days ago. Time was a little tricky lately, what with no sun and no moon in the sky. She had shifted forms five times at least and that was how she normally counted the passing of days. In any event, she hadn't been sure of what she found at first. There weren't many clearings in Deep Forest, which got its name from how clogged with trees it was. Furthermore, the clearing smelt...different from the rest of the forest. To the young woman it reeked of magic. She wrinkled her nose just thinking about it. She was a little leery of magic. Actually, she had almost turned right around and left that clearing alone when she first smelt the magic it was drenched in. She changed her mind when she noticed them

'They' were a trio of teenagers. Not an uncommon sight, she herself barely looked of age, but these teenagers were Dreamers. They didn't smell of Discordia. Hell, they smelt so alien to her that they simply had to be Dreamers. It was odd, though, when she found them, they were sleeping. Dreamers never slept when they came to Discordia. Why would they? This place was where they went when they slept in their world. Not to mention that the young woman had never seen a teenager in her section of the world. It was meant for children, after all. These three, however, were surely too old to be considered children. She had stepped into the clearing at that time to get a closer look, and immediately her hackles went up. She had felt...something...upon entry.

What that something was she had no idea, but she did quickly realize that it kept the enemy out. Oh sure, they mocked her from outside the circle, even pressed their grotesque bodies against the invisible barrier that separated them from the three Dreamers and one Dream, but they couldn't enter and make good on any of their threats. The young woman had made the decision to stay within that circle until the teenagers woke up. At least...that had been the plan. On the fifth day she was restless and bored, not to mention tired of the enemy's taunts. She left that sanctuary to drive the small group of Soulless off. She was now regretting that decision. Not only had they led her on a chase through the forest, they had also almost done her in. She had already cursed her stupidity though, and continuing to do so wouldn't help her any.

When she saw her favorite red cloak, acting as a beacon for her weary body, just inside the circle she almost wept with relief. Finally! She stepped past the invisible barrier, feeling that same hair raising sensation, and looked around. The Dreamers were still sleeping? No matter. Watching over them would give her time to heal, or give her enough time to properly bleed to death. Either or. She rested her back against one of the trees lining the clearing and slowly slid down it to a seated position. Which, in retrospect, was completely foolish and painful. Not only was that tree rough as hell, but she probably just messed up some of the clotting wounds on her back. The woman grimaced as she tried to get comfortable.

She couldn't help but smile at her own stupidity. It was just mistake after mistake on her part, wasn't it? Ah well. Nothing she could do now but wait for the other three people in the clearing to wake up. In the meantime maybe she'd take a little nap herself. She closed her eyes and began drifting slightly. She couldn't afford to go into the deep sleep she wanted, but a light doze would be fine for the moment.

As the Discordian woman was drifting off to sleep, one of the teenagers in the circle was waking up. He cracked open one green eye and looked up at the small view of dark sky that the clearing offered.

That's...different. Is it nighttime? It's really dark. he thought as he pushed himself up to a seated position. Glancing around he noticed two mounds that were apparently people and one bloodied woman against a tree. Were those two lumps dead? He didn't want to check. How much drinking did I do? he wondered. He didn't feel as though he had been spending a night drinking. His head was surprisingly clear, but then again he just woke up in a forest surrounded by bodies.

Another person in the clearing stirred, causing the boy to sigh with relief. The young lady sat up rather quickly, causing brown curls to bounce around her face. She had a panicked look about her, almost as though she spent her entire life worrying about things. She caught sight of the boy first, then noticed the woman against the tree and gasped.

"Is...is that person dead?" she asked. Her accent was distinctly British, and something about it made the boy groan a bit. He was stuck in Drunk-Land with a Brit? Awesome.

"Dunno..." he replied, laying the brogue on just a tad thicker than he normally would. It was the British girl that made him do it, honestly, "Is that person dead?" he pointed to the third teenager, who had yet to wake up. The girl glanced over in that direction and gasped again.

Luckily the Irish lad's question was quickly answered when the third sleeper sprung to his feet rather suddenly, eliciting another gasp from the girl.

"Why are you all so noisy?" when the woman against the tree spoke, it was with a raspy voice. She grimaced and licked her lips, making a face when her tongue ran over semi-dried blood, "Can't you see-" she opened her eyes and frowned, "-Oh. It's you three. You're finally awake," she began getting to her feet rather unsteadily, "It's about damn time," such movement was a strain in her condition, and when she got to her feet she was still leaning against the tree.

"What do you mean?" this from the last to awake, a short, blonde boy. His accent was so vague that it was impossible to pin it down to a country. He glanced around the clearing then finally settled his eyes on the bloodied woman, "Did you take us here?"

"I did not."

"Then how did we get here?" asked the British girl timidly.

"That...is complicated."

"How complicated could it be?" asked the blonde boy, "I don't know about these two, but I fell asleep in my bed, and woke up here. Clearly someone took me from my house and moved me."

The red haired woman sighed, lifting her hand from the wound in her side and glancing at it, before placing it right back where it had been, "It's more complicated than that. Look. I don't know if the protection surrounding this place will hold if you three are awake. We need to leave before those things come back."

"...What things?" asked the Irish boy.

"I'll explain them fully when we get to where we're going. For now accept the simple answer- they're Soulless."

"Soulless?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like, I assure you, but there is some explaining to be done. Later though. We need to move. You," she looked right at the other girl in the group, who immediately made a started noise and stood ramrod straight, "Can you carry my jacket? I don't want to bleed on it, as it's very precious to me. Oh, and be mindful of the necklace in the pocket. That's precious as well."

"I'll be careful," came the soft reply as the brown haired girl gently picked up the red coat and folded it carefully over her arm.

"You want a shoulder to lean on?" asked the red haired boy, "You look like shit."

"Oh good. I look like I feel then," was the dry retort, "I was worried that I was fooling someone. Yes, I would love a shoulder to lean on. Even though I made it back here from the fight on my own, Candy Cottage is considerably further away."

"Is that a bar?" the boy asked as he pulled the red haired woman's free arm over his shoulder.

"No it's..." she shook her head, "Nevermind. You'll see when we get there," she pointed with the hand over the boy's shoulder, "That way. As fast as we can walk."

It took them little more than a half hour to reach the so-called 'Candy Cottage'. When it came into view the battered woman sighed with relief and the British girl made a noise of appreciation.

"It looks like the cottage from that fairy tale!" she exclaimed, "It looks edible, actually. What a wonderful recreation!"

"Heh," it seemed that the act of laughing was a bit much for the woman and she winced immediately after the sound left her mouth, followed closely by another spat mouthful of blood. The other girl looked at her curiously and was waved at, "You'll see. You'll understand soon enough."

"You're far too cryptic," the blonde boy sounded annoyed by this, "Couldn't you just tell us outright, what the hell is going on?"

"I could," the woman replied, "But that takes time, and I would likely bleed to death in the process. I'd prefer not to die, thanks."

"Red!" the door to the cottage flew open as they neared it, and another young woman ran towards them, "Red where have you been? I've been ever so worri-My God. You're wounded! You've been fighting Soulless alone, haven't you?" she took the bloody woman's face in her hands, and looked her sternly in the eye, "I can't believe you would put yourself at such risk just for a..a what? A lark? You foolish, foolish wom-" here she noticed the three teenagers who were in various stages of discomfort and her entire demeanor changed, "You brought survivors! Red! Why didn't you say something sooner? Were you out rescuing them?"

"I was not. And they're Dreamers, not survivors," the woman, aptly named Red apparently, said through a squished face. The new female immediately let go of her companion to cover her gasp with both hands.

"D-Dreamers?" she stammered a bit, "Here? What are you doing? Get inside, get inside!" she ushered the group in and quickly shut and locked the door behind them.

The interior of the building was set up much like a medieval tavern, with a bar stretching along the back wall, and a small handful of tables scattered around the room. A fireplace would probably keep the main room nice and warm during the winter, but there was no need for it that day.

"Why didn't you say something, Red?" the newcomer demanded.

"You were on a roll..." Red look properly ashamed of herself, "And you yell at me more when I interrupt."

"Oh for the love of-"

"What's Red done now, Gretel?" a young man came walking down a nearby set of stairs with an amused expression on his face. This one was clearly the lecturing female's relative. Possibly a close relative since they shared so many features. Same bone structure in the face, same green eyes. Their hair was blonde, though hers was much lighter and his was two different shades but it all seemed to fit together.

"Gretel?" the British girl asked, "And this is a cottage made out of candy..."

"Oh, no way," the blonde boy muttered, "You're going to tell me that you're Hansel and Gretel, and that this is the witch's cottage?"

"Actually, it's ours now," the boy, Hansel, said cheerfully, "We took care of the witch years ago," he put an arm around his sister and gave her a squeeze, "Well...Gretel did the work. I pretty much just watched."

"It was nothing, really..." Gretel demurred, a slight blush appearing.

"Well then!" this from the red haired boy, "At least that explains why it's called 'Candy Cottage'. I was thinking it was a strip club, but a bar is cool too," he hopped up on one of the stools lined in front of the back bar and slammed his hand on the polished wooden surface, "Beer me!"

"Beer you?" Gretel's pretty face was slightly confused.

"Yeah! I mean, it's clear that an overindulgence in alcohol brought me to this place, so why not overindulge some more?" he smiled winningly at Gretel, "I'm Calen by the way."

Gretel wrinkled her nose with amusement, "Your accent is so charming!"

"Uh...I do so hate to cut in," Red sounded disgruntled, "But I'm kind of bleeding all over the floor? Now...I can bandage myself and all, but-"

"Oh my goodness! Hansel! I need hot water and towels. And bandage linens. Lots of them."

"Sure," he walked off, apparently in no hurry despite his friend bleeding profusely. Gretel led Red over to one of the tables and made her sit down.

"You two," she turned to look at the two remaining boys, "Should probably go rest in one of the other rooms."

"Gretel, really. If they haven't seen a naked woman before..." the younger blonde boy at least had the grace to blush, though Calen seemed interested, "And it's not as though I'll be completely naked."

"You have no shame at all," Gretel admonished as Hansel came back with a steaming pot of water and much cloth.

"Red getting naked again?" he wanted to know, "It saddens me to realize that this is a regular occurrence in this cottage."

"It shouldn't," Red shot back as she began peeling her top off. The British girl and the blonde boy turned their backs on the scene, after a moment, Calen did the same, "You get a free show out of it."

"One that I would never take advantage of," Hansel replied hastily if only to spare himself a withering glare from his dear sister. She was giving him a dark look out of the corner of her eye anyway. Hansel coughed into his hand, "You know? We're running low on wood. I think I'll go chop some," he said and made a hasty retreat.

Gretel sighed and continued cleaning Red's wounds, "Boys."

"You really shouldn't be so hard on him," Red replied, wincing with each touch of the hot cloth, "He is a man, and men have urges and-" there was a squeak somewhere in the vicinity of the British girl, "And I should apparently not be discussing this. Alright then. What shall I discuss?"

"You said you were going to explain how we got here, or even where 'here' is," the blonde boy said.

"Ah! Right. So I did. Right then," Red made a show of cracking her knuckles in preparation for what was apparently going to be an epic tale, "You're all dead and this is hell," she said simply.

"Red!" Gretel hit her lightly as Red grinned, "She's lying. This isn't hell and you three probably aren't dead."

"Probably?" Calen asked, "Well that's reassuring."

"It's like this," Red went on, "You ever wonder where you go when you dream?"

"No not really..." was the reply from the blonde boy, who almost turned around, but stopped himself last minute.

"Well maybe you should start," Red wanted to put her hands on her hips, but that was hard to do when you were seated and someone was wrapping linen around you. She opened her mouth to say something else when there was a knock. Not at the front door, however, instead it was at one of the front windows. Everyone in the room froze, Red and Gretel going quite rigid. After a moment there was a scuffling sound and someone began climbing in the window. Red half stood up, eyes going to various sharp kitchen utensils behind the bar, and wondering if she could make it to them in time. The graceful man finished his climb through the window and tossed a few strands of glossy black hair over his shoulder, lips curving into a smirk. Gretel and Red immediately relaxed and Red sat back down, Gretel going back to cleaning and bandaging her wounds.

"The front door of the Candy Cottage, locked?" he asked mildly, "Something momentous must be going on for this to occur," he glanced over at Gretel and Red, then immediately averted his eyes.

"Mordred Pendragon," Red teased impishly, "Are you being so bold as to look upon my unclothed body?"

The man, Mordred, sighed slightly, "A stag that cannot run brings shame to the man that hunts it. When you are in better health, we shall see how bold I may be."

"Be still my heart," she deadpanned.

"Lady Red. How, exactly, did you come by such wounds?" Mordred crossed over to the bar and slipped behind it, keeping his eyes off of Red's mostly nude form. He pulled out a bottle of some kind and poured a deep red liquid into a glass. Leaning against the back of the bar he sipped carefully from the glass, "Nothing foolish I assume," his tone of voice made it clear that he knew exactly how foolish she had been.

"Of course it was foolish!" Gretel huffed, "She was out looking for trouble and you know it."

"Ah, come on...I wasn't looking for trouble..." Red did, however, look properly ashamed.

"This is all very interesting," the blonde boy said tightly, "But we were in the middle of an explanation."

"Guests?" Mordred looked over at the three teens with little interest, "Survivors of some sort, I imagine."

"Look again, Mordred," Red replied smugly, "They're so clearly Dreamers. I'm sure if you weren't so distracted by my beauty when climbing in the window like a pervert, you would have noticed as such."

"Dream-"

"Question it later," Red cut Mordred off quickly, "They got here first so they get their questions answered first."

"About time..." came a mutter, though Red wasn't sure which boy it came from.

"Alright. So. This place? Is where children go when they dream," Red held up her hands, though she knew the three Dreamers couldn't see the gesture, "I know, I know, you aren't children. That alone makes you pretty special. It makes me think you might be the ones to save us. Save us from what, you ask?" she sighed, "It's called The Book," the way she said it made it sound as though the title needed to be capitalized, "It's...for lack of a better word, it's our guardian deity. Our god if you will. It makes sure everything runs smoothly here," she sucked in a breath as Gretel found a particularly nasty wound to touch. Gretel murmured an apology, "In case you couldn't tell on the way in, things no longer run smoothly. The sun and moon fled when things started going downhill so we don't even have those comforts anymore."

"Sun and moon as a comfort?" Calen asked incredulously.

"They are when you don't have them," Mordred replied, "Don't interrupt her."

"Thanks. Worse than that, the people here turned...well we call them Soulless. They no longer have a will of their own, and obey only to serve the corrupted Book. How The Book got corrupted is something no one knows. We didn't even notice it down here until it was too late."

"Too late?" the British girl asked timidly.

"Too late to take any action," Red replied, "Not that we, as Discordians, could ever take an action against The Book. Even now those of us called Soulful are fighting against The Book's will," Red looked up to the ceiling for a moment, thinking, "Let's see what else. Ah! I know. You three are what's referred to as 'Dreamers'. You...can do so much more than any of us ever could."

"What do you expect us to do?" the blonde boy asked, "We're just kids! We can't do your fighting for you."

"If The Book could be bested through strength of arms," Mordred said dryly, sipping his wine, "Don't you think we would've won this war before you lot showed up?"

"You'd be fighting as much for your world as you would for ours," Red added, "What do you think would happen if you humans stopped dreaming? Not only would this entire place die but your world would suffer emotionally and psychologically as well. It would be as bleak where you live as it is here, where we live," she crossed her arms, then immediately uncrossed them restlessly, "The Book can't be destroyed. At least...I don't think it can. I'm pretty sure that would destroy this entire place and us with it. However, it ican/i be re-written. Which is where you three come in. You're Dreamers, just by being here, you've changed things a bit."

"How so?" Calen asked.

"It means the borders between our world and yours opened. They had been closed for a long time. The last time they were open..." Red trailed off, "Well, whatever. The point is, they opened long enough to let you three in. That means something. Means a lot actually. Means you're meant to be here. By Dreamer status you can do things we can't. Such as crossing borders."

"Borders in a dream world?" Calen asked incredulously.

"Strange isn't it? But yes, there are borders between different sections of Discordia, and we cannot cross them."

"How did he get here then?" Calen pointed at Mordred.

"Fluke," Red and Mordred answered as one, causing Mordred to glance at Red briefly before turning back to his wine.

"It was a fluke," Red went on after a moment, "We don't know how he got here, but here he is and now he can't leave."

"So, we're called Dreamers," the British girl said slowly, "Because we have the ability to...dream? And by being here we can move about the entire world?"

"Essentially," Red's voice was muffled as she pulled on a fresh shirt, crimson colored of course, "You can turn around now Lord Pendragon, I'm decent. Thanks Gretel."

"I don't want to have to do it again," the blonde woman retorted, moving back behind the bar, "More wine, Mordred?"

"This is fine, thank you," he smiled charmingly at Gretel, who flushed a bit and made herself busy.

"You still haven't explained how we got here," the blonde boy turned around to give Red a serious look.

"Haven't I? You...fell asleep. I don't know. How else would you get here? The borders between Discordia and your world must've opened up again," Red walked over and leaned against the bar, "You think they're still open?" she asked Mordred.

"Likely not," he replied mildly, "It's the way of these tales, isn't it? They're trapped here with us."

"Oh good, you can relate then," Red hoisted herself onto the bar and gently swung her heels against its side, "So that's about the size of it. You were brought here, for whatever reason, to re-write The Book."