Disclaimers: as ever.

Thanks for the reviews.

'Syd! You're hurt!' As soon as he could see her properly, Nigel's fast trot through the bracken became a sprint. Despite nearly coming-a-cropper when his own foot slipped down a pot-hole, he was soon poised at her side.

'I'm fine, Nige. It's just a twisted ankle – it hurts like hell, but it'll pass.' Sydney swallowed her discomfort and, using Nigel's offered arm, pulled herself to her feet. Pain tore up her leg like an electric current; the little lights flashed again in front of her eyes as her consciousness momentarily wavered. She felt his hand slip behind her waist as he steadied her.

'Do you think you should move?' asked Nigel, concerned. 'Ankles can be painful. I should know…'

Sydney forced a pale smile: 'I'm sure I'm up to a 'fast hobble!' Do you still have your GPS?'

Nigel shook his head slowly, his eyes regretful. 'Sorry Syd. I think somebody must have taken it. I've just been following the first path I thought led in roughly the right direction and hoping that nightmarish things weren't going to start happening again.'

The dramatic undertone in Nigel's voice reminded Syd that, being caught up in her own struggles and then her joy at seeing him, she had not even checked that he was alright. She squeezed his arm. 'It's okay, Nigel. I guess you've had quite a night as well. How did you escape?'

He groaned, and pushed the fingers of his free hand back through his hair. 'I didn't. Somebody let me go. Without her help, I'm not sure I would have got away with my life.' Nigel was going to say 'dignity' but, not wanting to answer any humiliating questions, settled for the latter.

'I'm glad you made it, whatever happened.' Sydney smiled grimly. She was all too guiltily aware that, had it been down to her alone, she may not have made it in time to rescue him. When Nigel said nothing more, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder, feeling the hold around her waist tighten. His hand reached up to meet hers, tacky with damp, and nearly as freezing as she was. 'Come on.'

As the amber morning light filtered over the horizon, its vibrancy intensifying by the second, Sydney could see that Nigel looked tired and dishevelled. His hair was sticking out at a variety of eclectic angles, he had no coat, and his collar was half tucked in, half out of his shirt. Furtively glancing sideways, her eyes scanned him up and down, appreciative nevertheless.

'Nige,' whispered Sydney. 'Your flies are undone…'

'Oh,' Nigel pulled up the offending zip and cursed silently. The embarrassment, nevertheless, loosened his tongue: 'Let me tell you, I've had one hell of a night! There was this female cult, and they're into some very strange rituals…'

'The Forest Sisterhood?'

'Yeah, that was them. They've got Reiner and Mayor Henchard locked up in the dungeon of Coomb Castle, and they put me in there with them and then…then…' Nigel went silent, as he winced at an unpleasant memory.

'Then? Did that Tess woman try something?'

'I'd rather draw a veil over what happened next,' blurted Nigel. 'It wasn't very pleasant, I can tell you that. But we've got to finish the hunt before it's too late!'

'To stop the sisterhood getting Odo's staff?'

'Um…not exactly...' Nigel cringed again. 'I, um, promised one of the 'sisters,' Carolyn. She's not like the others, and I think it's really important that we find the relic for her…'

Sydney considered his statement sceptically. 'This isn't the first time you've been kidnapped and then decided you wanted to help your captor…'

'Sydney, it isn't bloody Stockholm Syndrome! You'd like this woman. As she was helping me escape, she was telling me all sorts of stuff about prehistoric Earth Mother religions and mediaeval mysticism that I certainly never knew. She wants to find the staff, the stone circle and the barrow for their historical value and because it will stop the mayor building a theme park on the north part of the forest!'

Sydney momentarily stopped her slow progress to absorb this news: 'Mayor Henchard wants to build a theme park?'

'Yeah. That was him who attacked you in the shower…'

'I know, Giles told me, but Giles said…' Sydney frowned and then continued, in a low, angry voice: 'Giles said he just wanted to stop the sisterhood because they had some murderous vendetta against men! Dammit! I wonder what his game is?'

Nigel shrugged: 'Do you think the museum curator is working with the mayor?'

Sydney upped her pace across the field: 'I don't know, but I don't think Giles is the boy-scout he seemed to be. We'd better get a move on. I've left Stewie with him, and I don't trust either of them! Ow!' Sydney flinched as she accidentally jarred her ankle against a high tuft of moss.

Nigel exhaled slowly, supporting as much of her weight as he could manage, and wondering how she could still keep up such a breakneck pace: 'I can't wait to get back to the pub,' he mumbled. 'I'd kill for a slap-up breakfast and a nice, hot bath…'

………………………………………………….

'Giles? Giles!'

It took nearly two and a half hours to get back to the field near the Flighty Filly Inn where Sydney had left Giles with the pony. Now devoid of maps and both GPS devices, route-finding had been a matter of 'go with the flow.' The 'flow' had taken the scenic route.

Finally reaching their destination, however, they discovered no sign of Giles.

'Damn!' snorted Syd. 'Either he's found the key and run off with it, or the sisterhood have got him.'

'I'm not quite sure why the sisterhood would want him,' mused Nigel, smugly conceding to himself that he didn't think Giles was quite their type. 'Then again, they've got Reiner! Actually, Giles strikes me as the sort who might have just gone home to bed.'

Sydney rolled her eyes. 'You could be right.' She glanced around the field hopefully. 'Can you see that 'bloody pony'?'

Nigel regarded Sydney curiously. 'That 'bloody pony'? That doesn't sound like your usual sentiments towards God's little creatures, Syd?'

Sydney decided she wasn't so proud as to have to hide the truth from Nigel: 'Stewie bit me,' she confessed quietly.

Nigel's jaw dropped at this revelation of her fallibility. 'It bit you!' His surprise was quickly replaced by concern and anger: 'Where? Did he break the skin? That nasty little bugger - I told you they were evil!'

Sydney smiled and shook her head. 'No. He was just defending himself. I was trying to tie a scarf around his collar.' She pulled up her sleeve and showed him the growing, purple bruise on her arm. In the middle were the sure signs of blunt, pony teeth marks. There were scarlet indents on Sydney's smooth, caramel skin.

Nigel made a sympathetic hissing noise through his teeth. Sydney giggled. 'Is my bruise bigger than yours was?'

Nigel scrunched his nose as he tried to recall: 'I think mine was bigger, although I guess my arm was smaller then. It was 17 years ago! Bloody ponies!

'Bloody ponies!' echoed Sydney again, this time playfully mimicking Nigel's accent. 'Come on; let's see if we can find him. I hope he hasn't been kidnapped too!'

Stewie was fine. He was standing in the corner of the field, upright but quite still, and set apart from the other creatures, which were huddled in a clump. Sydney found it interesting that their pony appeared to be quite a loner! He was fast asleep.

'Let's not disturb him,' whispered Nigel. He winced as he asked the next question: 'Do you want me to start searching through the… you know. For the key?'

'If you really want,' replied Sydney, a cheeky glint in her eye. 'Personally, I'm heading back to the pub to soak my ankle in a nice, hot bath. I don't think this pony, or his droppings, are going anywhere for a while. So, the choice is yours. Want to join me or stay out here with your animal chums?'

Nigel bit his lip, suppressing an overenthusiastic grin. 'Do I really need to answer that question?'

……………………………..

As they entered the yard of the Inn, they could tell something was wrong. Sydney had told Nigel about the fire last night, and her theory that it was started by Tess, but had assumed the damage had been minor. The building certainly looked relatively unimpaired. However, despite the fact it was now nearly 9 am, there were no lights on at the windows, and no homely coil of smoke ascended from any of its many, tall brick chimneys.

The landlord was standing by the back door, looking miserable. When he spotted Sydney and Nigel, he placed his hands on his hips, and his tone was surly: 'Oh, hullo. I wondered when you might show up.' He eyeballed Nigel suspiciously. 'Have you seen that harlot, Tess, lately?'

'Not lately,' muttered Nigel.

The pub owner scowled as he pointed to the blackened walls of his kitchen. 'Do you know anything about this, lad? The whole place could have gone up, you know?'

'He had nothing to do with it,' interjected Sydney aggressively. 'Shouldn't you be a little concerned that your staff are drugging and kidnapping the guests?' Nigel nodded and huffed defiantly, squaring his shoulders. It was always nice not having to explain things for oneself.

As he recalled Sydney's demonstrative behaviour the previous night, the landlord decided he didn't want to argue with the brash American. 'Okay, miss. I just thought it was a little odd that this young man and the girl disappeared together.'

'I keep telling you: Nigel was kidnapped. Besides, why would he disappear with Tess, when he's staying here with me?' Nigel nodded again and grinned complacently.

The landlord scratched his head, and conceded to Sydney's point. 'I don't know, miss,' he said weakly. 'I'd better find Tess myself.'

'You do that. And if you find her, let me know. I'd like a word with her!' Having said this, Sydney's serious countenance melted into a congenial smile. 'Now, if you don't mind, Nigel and I would like to go up to our room. And we'd both like some breakfast.'

The landlord suddenly looked far more apologetic. 'I'm terribly sorry, but I'm not allowed to let anybody back in until the health inspectors have been round. There was a lot of smoke damage, and I'd be breaking all sorts of regulations…'

'Please! We won't tell anybody!' entreated Nigel. For various reasons, he'd be looking forward to that bath.

'Sorry. If you walk into the village, I'm sure that Mrs Miggins at number 27 Mousehole Lane, will let you use her bathroom. She's a lovely old dear, and a friend of mine. She put up several of my other guests last night.'

Sydney shook her head rapidly. 'We can't go that far from the field.' She glanced at Nigel and cringed apologetically. 'Stewie?'

'But you said the pony would be okay for a while!'

'That was when I thought we could keep an eye on him from the bathroom window,' Sydney broke off and yawned widely, the night's events catching up with her.

'Keen pony spotters, eh?' said the landlord, completely misunderstanding the situation. 'Now, if you want to keep an eye on the nags and have a bit of a kip, I've got just the thing. There's a tent in the outbuilding, and that field behind the inn is just fine for camping. I'll lend it to you if you like, and it should tide you over until you can go back into the pub!'

Sydney narrowed her eyes and made an executive decision: 'We'll take it.'

……………………….

Ten minutes later, Sydney and Nigel stood side by side, in the field, staring at the pile of orange canvas, ground sheets and blankets that the innkeeper had lent them.

'It isn't exactly a hot bath!' exclaimed Nigel. He glanced up at the steely sky, noting that it was starting to drizzle. 'Are you sure we can't pop around to Mrs Miggins? She sounds like a friendly old biddy.'

'We mustn't risk losing that pony again,' stated Sydney. 'This way, I can rest up my ankle for a few hours, and we can take turns in keeping a watch on Stewie. Then we'd better go find that barrow, using your friend's theory about the number seven.'

'I guess you're right,' conceded Nigel. 'You make yourself comfortable on those blankets. I'll put up the tent.'

Sydney raised her eyebrows. 'You sure you can manage?'

'Of course I can!' retorted Nigel, as a gust of wind ruffled their hair and clothes. 'But I'd better get cracking. I can't see this weather getting any better.'

He was quietly pleased when Sydney actually did settle down on the plastic groundsheet and wrapped herself in woolly blankets, to nurse her injured leg. He didn't usually get the chance to play the 'gentleman', but it was a role that he relished, particularly in the circumstances. As he lay out the canvas and began to weave the tent pole through the loops of rope, he started to think about the previous nights experiences in the bathroom, before the onset of the unpleasantness. Had she really given him a 'come on'?

It all seemed such a long time ago, he could barely believe it. He couldn't help but get a little excited as he recalled the sight of her in the bath, her svelte limbs protruding from the mass of fluffy, white bubbles. Nevertheless, Nigel's spirits were dampened a little when he remembered a previous time he had shared a tent with her, when they were pursuing the Emperor's bride's sarcophagus, and they'd snuggled together in a sleeping bag. He thought she'd given him a 'come on' then. He couldn't have been more wrong…

'What is it?'

Sydney's inquiry took Nigel by surprise: he had been trying to convince himself that it was probably all for the best if they never got seriously involved, and that all future advances should be rebuffed, politely but firmly.

'Uh, nothing,' said Nigel, pursing his lips as he studiously decided which side of the tent to erect first.

'It didn't look like nothing. What were you looking so miserable about?'

'Oh…um…' Nigel racked his brain quickly for a convincing lie: 'I was just thinking about scout camp, that's all. Putting up this tent reminded me of it.'

'Oh, Nigel! It couldn't have all been bad. You must have some happy memories. I had a great time on camp when I was a kid!'

'You did? I didn't know you were Girl Guide.'

Sydney laughed affectionately. 'I wasn't. I was too much of a tearaway for all that knot tying and those silly uniforms! But I went camping, all right. It was a blast!'

Nigel detected a mischievous glint in Sydney's eye. 'Did your parents take you?' he asked doubtfully.

Sydney shook her head and giggled, hooking her hair over an ear with her fingers and looking surprisingly girlish. 'Oh no! I was left pretty much to my own devices during those long summers in Hawaii as a teenager. My girlfriends and I used to just head up into the hills and let ourselves go!' Nigel couldn't prevent his imagination from running amok at the thought of Sydney and all her nearly-as-pretty friends, skipping like fairies through the wildernesses of Hawaii, swimming in lakes while scantily clad, having pillow fights in their pyjamas. It was all just a little too exciting.

'Did your father approve?' Nigel frowned, attempting to sound serious, and desperately tried to concentrate on which flap of canvas attached to which bit of pole.

'My dad was just fine about it,' continued Sydney, 'until he realised that some of the young guys from the town were hiking out to see us.' Her eyes glazed over. 'I'll never forget kissing Craig Camacho under that low-hanging Hawaiian moon.' A nostalgic smile flickered across her lips. 'He was tall, dark and handsome and had the most gorgeous deep, brown eyes, which shimmered like the lake at midnight when they caught the light of the stars. I wanted to drown in them.'

Nigel flinched at the obvious longing in Syd's voice for the 'tall, dark and handsome' Craig, and then cursed loudly as he realised he'd put the wrong rope through the wrong hole. Sydney was too far lost in her reminiscences to notice: 'I guess I thought he and I would be together forever,' she continued wistfully. 'Ah, well. I was only 13! I got over him soon enough when Bart Sala turned up - he'd borrowed his dad's jeep. Then there was Charlie Yang-Cao, and he'd got his own tent... '

Nigel could contain himself no longer. 'Good God!' he exclaimed, as he thrust a tent-peg into the ground. 'Thirteen! Was there ever a time when you weren't so… experienced?'

Sydney shrugged. 'I was a little wild, I guess. We were innocent enough…'

'The most exciting thing that ever happened to me on camp was when my friend, Chris, and I climbed up trees to spy into the Girl Guides enclosure!'

'You Peeping Tom!' exclaimed Sydney. 'That's way worse than anything I got up to!'

'It wasn't my idea, besides…there were too many leaves,' protested Nigel. 'I never saw a thing. Anyway, if I had, it would have been small compensation for the hours spent trudging round after Preston in the pouring rain, digging latrine pits, being bitten by ponies…'

Sydney raised her hands in mock despair. 'Why do you always remember the bad things? A person can be destroyed by negative energy, you know, Nige.'

'Yes, yes,' said Nigel distractedly. He dispelled his 'negative energy' by banging in the last tent peg. He then took a step back from the fully erected tent, keeping his fingers crossed. Despite the harsh gust of wind that swept across the field at that moment, it held firm.

'Good job,' complemented Sydney.

'Thanks.' He held out a hand to help her up off the blanket. 'Would you like to step into your palace, Miss Fox?' The request was accompanied by a charming grin.

'Thank you very much, Mr Bailey.' Sydney took his hand and rose. She winced at the slight discomfort as she placed weight on her ankle, but it was much less than earlier. 'I think I should be fine after a couple of hours rest in this tent.'

Leaving her standing for a moment, Nigel scrambled to retrieve the groundsheet and blankets from the damp grass, and spread them inside before Sydney entered. Sydney quietly admitted to herself that it was worth suffering a minor injury just to force her to let Nigel be so chivalrous. It suited him, she thought. In fact, it was very attractive…

Sydney settled herself in the back of the tent. Now she was inside, the pitter-patter of the drizzle and the smack of the wind, as it ripped across the canvas, made it appear much stormier outside that it had seemed before. 'You coming in?' she called to Nigel, who was still fussing about with the tent pegs. 'It sounds like its getting wetter, and I can see Stewie from here.'

There was a second of hesitation, and then Nigel appeared in the opening. 'Don't mind if I do.'

He sat down next to her, close, but not close enough. Sydney lifted the blanket that he had draped around her shoulder and wrapped it around him as well, so they could 'cosy up' together. Nigel glanced at her, and licked his lips nervously.

Her adjustment meant that his shoulder was now pressed against hers, and she could feel the tense muscle under the thick, woolly jumper. Glancing down, she saw his fingers twitching nervously. Syd could tell Nigel was in a quandary, and wondered if he was on the verge of slipping his arm around her. It seemed such a natural thing to do, that she wished he would.

'Damn it,' she thought, 'if he's not going to snuggle, I'm going to have to tell him to!' She decided to start with a bit of subtle encouragement.

'Hey, I'm kind of cold, still.' Sydney spoke softly and her hand drifted on top of his. 'Fancy warming me up a little?'

Nigel's eyes locked on to hers, his stare wavering between that of a diving hawk and a startled rabbit. She felt his hand shift uncertainly under hers.

'But….um…you never answered my question from last night,' he entreated. 'About how all 'this'…changes our relationship?'

His gaze penetrated hers more deeply now, imploring her to answer. Sydney wondered if he could read her perplexity.

'Or is this just like those five days you spent in an igloo with Reiner?'

This time, she knew she had to answer. 'No, of course not. You know you mean more to me than that.' Sydney struggled to put her passions into words, as a series of illogical thoughts ran through her head. Four years she and Nigel had been together as partners, and for four years she'd loved him dearly as a friend, and thought he was deadly cute, but not her type for the 'real thing.' There was no denying now, though, that things seemed different, in that she was finding it increasingly hard to keep her hands off him! She took a deep breath and admitted in a husky, beguiling voice: 'I'd be very happy if this changed our relationship a little.'

'Uh, huh,' nodded Nigel, his lips curving into a small, comprehending smile. 'I was just wondering…'

He lifted the back of his hand to her cheek, and brushed it gently.

'That's not going to warm me up!' With a laugh, Sydney pulled him into an enthusiastic embrace, and plunged her lips onto his. He returned the kiss ardently, and with some skill. Sydney soundlessly moaned with pleasure as their bodies melted into one, their limbs entwining as their fingers entangled in each other hair.

Sydney broke away from the kiss, as her hands crept up underneath Nigel's jumper, exploring the smooth, but slightly damp flesh. He had certainly worked up a sweat putting up that tent. The thought was arousing, and her breath and heart began to race as his warmth seeped into her suddenly throbbing veins and began to permeate her whole being.

All the same, there was uneasiness in the light hazel eyes that regarded her intently: 'Syd,' he gasped. 'This is all 'changing' very fast…' She noticed that his caressing touch had been withdrawn; Nigel appeared to have descended into an uncertain limbo, although she could feel he was intensely excited.

'Go with the flow,' she whispered in his ear. Withdrawing one of her hands from under his jumper, her fingertips began to toy with his still damp fringe. With a swiftness that almost startled her, he caught her hand in his and pressed it against his lips…

At that instant, there was an awesome creak and the crucial tent pole at the front lurched forty-five degrees to the east. Nigel yelped as Sydney leapt to catch the descending woodwork. It was all too late to stop the canvas descending around them.

…………………………

By the time Nigel had reassembled the tent , this time with Sydney's begrudgingly received help, they were both tired, fed up and neither of them was in a marvellous temper.

Sydney was frustrated: with herself, with Nigel, but mainly with the cheap and badly made tent. Nigel was just embarrassed, and was repeatedly muttering self reproachful comments under his breath. Sydney caught only some of his unseemly oaths, but distinctly heard him say: 'I suppose Reiner had no problem keeping that igloo in tact,' and 'I bet Charlie's tent poles stayed upright!'

Sydney wanted to reassure him, but now she wasn't so sure herself. Maybe 'going with the flow' wasn't always the best option, especially when it came to lusting over one's assistant. But, then again, with Nigel, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to …

She found herself strangely unsettled. Spotting that Stewie had woken up, and was now lurching off across the field in search of breakfast, Sydney decided to it was time to get back to business.

'Okay, Nigel,' she sighed. He was jamming in the last tent peg with his foot, stamping on it as if it deserved to die. 'Do you want to catch some sleep, while I keep an eye on that pony?'

'No, you should get some rest.' said Nigel flatly. 'I'll watch the bloody thing.'

'Thanks,' said Sydney, genuinely grateful. She was shattered - the pain of her injured ankle still burrowed deep into her usually limitless supplies of energy - although she knew Nigel must be tired too. The light grey lines that now underscored his eyes told her that, although she hated to think what a mess she must look. 'And thanks for…uh, keeping me warm.' The last words were light and jokey.

Nigel chuckled humourlessly. 'Any time… sorry it was so unsuccessful.'

'It wasn't,' reassured Sydney with a wink. 'It was just great.'

Sydney curled up under the blankets inside, and Nigel sat down in the opening of the tent. Still seething with himself, he stared fiercely at Stewie, as if projecting his self-chastisement onto the pony. After a few minutes, however, his features softened a little, as he found himself listening to the peaceful rise and fall of Sydney's breath. Tentatively peeping over his shoulder he confirmed that, despite everything, she was already fast asleep.

Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from her, Nigel returned his concentration to the pony. Stewie was currently pulverising a clump of greenery and didn't look like he was going anywhere soon. Deciding it was a moment for multi-tasking, Nigel reached back and pulled out Giles's research from Sydney's satchel. He had to be keen to peruse the notes on Odo again since his meeting with Carolyn, to check up on her claim that the bishop, and the Forest Sisterhood, never performed human sacrifice on defenceless young men!

Rather than finding anything along these lines, however, his gaze fell upon some notes that Carolyn had placed on the top of the pile. They were in Mediaeval Latin, and had not yet been translated, but Nigel could see that they described the results of the spring 'ritual' when performed with the Bishop's staff.

He effortlessly made sense of the ancient language. Although excruciatingly vague about the ritual itself, the outcome was clear enough: Under the protection of Mother Earth, the whole forest exploded with life. The ground was knee deep with flowers, the trees spread their branches as high as the heavens, the skies filled with birds seeking food for their many young, and the ponies had six offspring each.

'Well, it's not all good then,' mumbled Nigel, picturing a forest overrun with marauding baby ponies. Nevertheless, the otherwise Eden-like scene that the texts described, evoked a warm, fuzzy feeling, and filled him with a new-found appreciation for the joys of spring: of being young, free and… in love?

Optimism surging inside, Nigel glanced back over his shoulder at Sydney. Surveying her sleeping form, he revelled in the silky flow of her hair, now decorously embellishing the seventies-style brown and multicoloured blankets on which she lay.

'You're an enigma, Sydney Fox,' he muttered and, surrendering a little to the descending haze of tiredness, he lay down full length next to her. Manfully resisting the magnetic pull of her sensual curves, he rested his chin up on his fist, so he could glance over at the pony, and enjoy the view of his beautiful colleague at the same time.

He soon found himself very comfortable indeed, warm even, and it became an increasing struggle to keep his eyes on the pony or, indeed, upon the tranquil vista of sleeping Sydney…

…………………………..

Nigel Bailey stood, quite alone, underneath a stout-trunked, ancient English oak, gazing up into its unclad, wintry branches. Beyond it, he was vaguely aware of a steely, grey sky, which belied only one chink of blue. Then everything began to change.

In the instant of a heartbeat, green buds sprouted on its twiggy, naked branches, swelling into fresh spring leaves. It was then he became aware of the gentle shimmer of birdsong, and the little brown woodland birds that hopped along the branches between the increasingly dense greenery. Their nests were built in a flash, and Nigel found himself willing on the sight of a blue tinged egg, the sound of a crack, and a juvenile 'cheap'…

However, Nigel was not looking at the tree any more. For a reason unbeknownst to him, he was now regarding a sun drenched clearing in the woodland landscape, strewn with a carpet of purple-headed bluebells and delicate gold narcissi. Frolicking between the flowers were cotton-tailed rabbits and bouncingly mischievous squirrels. Amidst this scene of life, was the most wondrous vision that ever infiltrated his consciousness. He trembled with joy, and could not understand why he did not shout out in ecstasy.

Under the spreading branches was Sydney, her graceful features set in an inscrutable smile, reminiscent of the Mona Lisa. Her hair cascaded like ebony waterfalls, flowing over the arcs of her shoulders, and the curves of her breasts.

The moment passed all too quickly. Although he didn't see it happen, Nigel suddenly knew a cloud had floated over the sun, the animals fled and the colours of the flowers began to fade. As the light dimmed a little, he suddenly became aware Sydney was sitting on a pony, a familiarly-marked grey one with pointed ears, and a flyaway beard. She was riding side saddle and, although her modesty was still concealed by her flowing locks, she was utterly naked.

Sydney was riding Stewie naked! As Nigel reeled in horror, her face began to change. Her lips flashed from the hue of a sumptuous peach, to a searing blood red. Her sleek hair was no longer glittering brown, but stark, peroxide white.

Tess grinned down at him, whipping the pony's backside with a riding crop that seemed to grow out of nowhere, driving the poor creature forward. As she bore down upon Nigel she spoke, but the voice didn't belong to her. It was Preston! Or was it Reiner? Nigel couldn't tell, although the words were unmistakable:

'I've got you marked for human sacrifice! I'm going to chop you into little pieces!'

As Nigel braced himself for the inevitable blow, the earth began to quake…

………………………………..

'Nigel…come on, wake up.'

'Wha?' his eyes snapped open and absorbed the sight of Sydney. She was shaking his shoulder urgently, clearly slightly irate.

'You fell asleep! You were supposed to be watching the pony!'

'Bugger!' Nigel sat upright and scrambled to the front of the tent. It had stopped raining, but the sky was still an ominous grey. He scanned frantically around for the pony, but Stewie nowhere to be seen. Rubbing his eyes, Nigel hoped desperately that his vision was blurred by sleep, and tried looking again.

Meanwhile, Sydney had been checking her watch. 'Nigel! We've been asleep for over eight hours… that creature could be miles off by now!'

Nigel grimaced sheepishly. 'Sorry. I suppose we'd better go look for it.'

'Yeah, I suppose we'd better,' spat Sydney as she pulled her brush from her bag and proceeded to scrape her hair back into a ponytail. Nigel flinched at the force of her glare, still feeling somewhat traumatised by the memory of his dream. He realised that this probably wasn't a good moment to share it with her.

She threw a flashlight in his direction. 'Come on. Let's go find this barrow. And then, I guess, we'd better go on a pony trek…'

Nigel pulled himself to his feet, looking utterly forlorn. Sydney, despite her annoyance, experienced a pang of guilt. 'Hey, Nige,' she murmured, squeezing his shoulder. 'Are you okay…I mean about earlier.'

'Yes, fine,' said Nigel, stilling himself and meeting her gaze.

'Great! Let's get on then… and maybe it isn't all bad. By the time we get back, the pub might be open again. And then we can have that bath…'

Thanks for reading. Please review.