Let me start this off with a thing or two about nightmares. Nightmares are strange things. They can be only a picture or a scene in your mind that haunts you for a second or two, or it can seem to go on for eternity and stay with you for what feels to be forever. It is rare for someone to feel strong emotion in a dream or nightmare and even more rare to wake up feeling the same way. Whenever such occurrences arise, however, they can be extreme and cause the one feeling such things to go mad. The person will want to fix the problem any way they can. They will want to end their own suffering, even if it means causing someone else to suffer for them.

Jam had never felt such fury before even when he was awake. It seemed so magnified when he was experiencing his nightmare after he had split his head on the pavement. As he made his way into bed, he pulled up the covers and trembled slightly with fear. He was ashamed of himself. He was cowering like a toddler. Jam found himself withing his mother was still alive and that she was with him now. It wasn't the first time, either.

Everywhere Jam looked he saw glassy eyes, jagged knives, blood and the look of Erec's face before Jam had stabbed him. It had been full of sheer terror and pleading. Jam quickly shut his eyes but that only made everything worse. At least when his eyes were open he was focusing on something. When Jam closed his eyes, his imagination spiraled out of control and he saw the rabid mountain cat, dead and still torn apart, running full speed for him. It's mouth hung slightly open and it's teeth showed. It's ripped stomach dragged on the ground.

That was when the realization hit Jam: the cat had torn itself apart in an attempt to end its own misery. It was basically suicidal. Slowly, Jam opened his eyes. Blinking a few times, he sat up. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he got up, threw on his overcoat and shoes and grabbed a shovel. He stopped only to look back at a photo he had of his mother.

After a few moments he tore his eyes away and the butler went to find another Port-O-Door. He found one somewhere in the outskirts of the castle territory and found Smoolie. He got as close as he could to where he had started out the previous day when the haunting had begun. Before going through, he took one more look at the castle. He thought of Bethany for some reason, asleep in her bed, no idea what was happening right now.

Gripping the shovel tightly, he timidly stepped out onto the soft grass. He was shaking, knowing what was to come. He retraced his steps back to the outcrop where the dead cat had been. Reaching the tunnel, Jam peered over it again.

There it was. If possible, it looked so much worse. The stomach tear was larger and the blood was now rotting along with everything else. Bones showed. Jam turned around, leaned over and threw up. Groaning, he wiped his mouth and slowly straightened. Resisting the urge to hurl again, he made his way cautiously through the shrubbery over to the cat.

Before he could get even 3/4ths of the way there, he was knocked over by what felt to be a brick. But bricks didn't have hands that were groping for Jam's throat. They didn't give inhuman growls. They didn't drip blood. This was no lynx. It was a person with cat features; a werecat.

"Take one more step," snarled the werecat. "and I'll personally tear...you...apart!"