The dream came to him, as it usually did.

He was slowly stalking through the dark forest late at night, mosquitoes crawling beneath his feathers, the sound of wild bugs and monkeys all around him, the menacing sounds of the trees clashing together from the harsh winds. Little Braddie held up a weak arm to cover himself from the wind's strong sway, haphazardly trying to fix his glasses to see what was in front of him. But his shaking was only making his blurred sight worse with only the glow of the moon as his guide. As he glanced up to the small, white orb, it was quickly swallowed by the heavy gown of storm clouds.

"Grammy!" he called out. "Grammy, where are you?!"

The winds crashed into him again with thunder booming above him, threatening a tropical storm. And just as he thought that, the skies opened up and it started to pour. Braddie lifted his arms around his drenched coonskin hat and started to run.

"Grammy! Grammy!"

It felt like forever he was running, trying his best not to crash into the trees or hit an obstacle, which he was nearly doing anyway until he avoided them at the last possible second. It kept like this until his claws felt the sharp edge of a cliff, almost falling off it with a screech as he precariously balanced himself with his arms, then taking a quick step back. Braddie panted as he stared down into the endless, dark abyss.

Fear clutched at his little, thumping heart, squeezing it. He could barely breathe.

The boy held himself shakily as he crouched down onto the muddy ground, gasping and crying.

"Grammy…anybody…mommy…daddy…"

He shuddered under the rain, soaked and dirty, desperate tears running down his cheeks, until he heard what he thought was a familiar yet struggling voice in the distance.

"Bradford, Bradford!" the voice screamed out through the storm along with loud grunts and the sound of crunching branches.

Braddie caught his own breath in his throat once he heard that voice. Was it her?

"Grammy? Grammy!" He started running towards the source of the sounds, knowing he'll be safe now.

But that was what he used to believe.

Braddie ran a few feet before encountering her, laying in the middle of the forest floor. He slowly treaded towards her before seeing what was entrapping her. Once he saw it, however, he screamed loudly and fell backward as he tried to get away from it.

Isabella Finch was fully ensnared by a vicious and large cobra, and she was heavily struggling under it, gnashing her teeth as she tried to keep the serpent's fangs far from her own head. When she heard his scream, she quickly turned to him in horror, and yelled, "Bradford, what are you doing here, run! Run while you can!"

Braddie stared at her in terrified confusion. "Wait, grammy, I'll help you! Let me help you!"

"There's nothing you can do to help, just run! Save yourself!"

"But, I can help! I-I know I can!" he struggled to his feet, but he was shaking so violently he lost his balance and fell in the mud again. The cobra's mouth inched ever closer to Finch's skull. She desperately struggled to push her head away, but to no avail as the grip around her body and neck tightened.

"You can't do anything to help, Bradford!" she yowled into the air, desperation and anger gnawing in her words. "You can never do anything but cry and run! So, RUN! SAVE YOURSELF!"

The cobra turned its body towards the boy, its head larger than Braddie's body. Its jaw was wide as it smiled maliciously, exposing its razor-sharp teeth, hungry for another victim.

Bradford glanced at his grammy in the clutches of the serpent. He had to do something. She was trapped. He couldn't just leave his grandmother, the only family he had, to die. But the cobra could kill him easily, the thunder and loud winds bellowed around him, and the sound of his own little heart hammered in his head.

He wanted to stay and save her. But he could only run. That was all he could ever do.

He ran away as fast he could, away from his fears, from the chaos, from his helplessness. But his feet hit the crack of the cliff again, and this time he didn't have enough time to react. He felt himself flying in mid-air momentarily, the cliff falling away from him, the rain hitting the top of his glasses, darkness, then-

The sound of crying cut him through so suddenly, Bradford gasped as he woke, sitting up in alarm, catching his breath as he held a hand around his thumping chest. He turned his head around quickly to survey his surroundings.

He was in his room at HQ, it was early morning, and April was crying, woken up by a need, or perhaps she was also suddenly frightened by something.

Bradford tried to catch his breath as he tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths and using an inhaler that he kept on his nightstand just for these moments. He got up, put on his robe, remembered to put on his pince-nez, forced himself not to look at The Sword, and went over to April to comfort her once again.

The same nightmare he would get at least once a week. Just one of many. An amalgamation of his fears and previous adventures, even ones that never occurred yet still terrified him by their mere thought. Familiar, as welcoming as an old friend. But never expected. Never pleasant. Only reminders to him for what he must do. Fuel for his ambitions.

Still, they were quite draining to experience, to think about. To fear for.

This was going to be a long day.