Charlie woke up. She heard a scream. She sat straight up in her bed. Shaking, her heart pounding. There was blood, and she'd heard
a crunch. Metal going thru bone. She heard another scream, and realized that it was she, herself.
Charlie scrambled out of the bed and flung her bedroom door open, just as Scott's door across the hallway opened. He was barefoot, and
his shirt was untucked from his pants, unbuttoned and flapping open.
Without any thought or hesitation, Charlie threw herself at him. Sobbing, with her face buried in his middle, Charlie clutched so hard as
to never let go.
"What is it?" Scott asked.
Charlie began talking in a rush, nearly indiscernible. "The blood's everywhere!" she cried.
"What blood?" Scott asked, confused. "Charlie, there's not any blood."
"There is! There is!" she insisted. "It's dripping all over!"
"Alright," Scott said, softly, comfortingly. "It's alright."
Teresa came from her bedroom. "What's wrong?" she asked, pulling her robe tighter around herself.
"Bad dream, I think," Scott said, speaking over the sounds of Charlie's sobs.
"Do you want me to get something? Some hot milk, maybe?" Teresa suggested.
"We'll be alright," Scott said. "You go on back to bed. Thanks, Teresa."
Charlie was still crying as he led her into his bedroom.
"No!" Charlie said, as he moved to dislodge her from his side, and not wanting to loosen her hold she had on him.
"I'm just lighting a lamp, I'm not going anywhere, kiddo," Scott said, still in that same calming tone. He went to turn up the lamp beside
his bed, with Charlie still holding on to him.
"See? Just the lamp," he said.
Now that she was fully awake, Charlie stopped crying so hard, though her breathing was still ragged. She still had her hand gripped around
the material on the back of his shirt.
Going to the chair that he'd had her sit in earlier, Scott sat down, pulling her onto his lap.
"You were dreaming," he said, smoothing back her hair from her face. It was damp with sweat. Charlie trembled, and
his pulled her closer. "Seems as if it was a real fearful one," he said.
"There was all the blood, and-there was crunching-the bones were breaking-"
Scott pulled her to his chest, still smoothing her hair. "It's alright now," he said, softly.
"It was so awful, Scott! She was all limp and-and her legs just hung down-"
"Shhh," he shushed, rubbing circles on her lower back with his hand.
"Not the dream," Charlie said. "I mean really-when we took her out of the trap-she was all twisted and everything!"
"I know," he said, still soothing.
Then, for a few minutes, there was silence. Charlie kept her cheek against his chest, her hand on the collar of his shirt, and Scott
kept rubbing her back the same way. From where her head lay, Charlie could hear his heart beating.
Charlie wanted to talk to him about why folks did such-trapping of animals. She wanted to tell him she understood now, more than
she had, that it had been foolish to return to set off traps. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't upset with him any longer for
spanking her. She wanted to tell him that she understood that he'd been scared for her. She didn't, though, say any of those
things right then, because Scott spoke first.
"I know it's real frightening to have a dream like that," he said. "It can sure seem real. It's not something that you're going to
forget anytime soon, seeing the mother fox like that."
"I can't ever forget it," Charlie said. "Not ever."
"Do you want some hot milk?" he asked, and Charlie raised her head to look at him.
"Can we go down to the kitchen?" she asked, wanting to put off returning to bed a while longer.
"I'll tell you what," Scott said. "Why don't you pop back into bed, and I'll bring you up a cup?"
"Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?" she asked, plaintively.
"Yes. Of course I will. Come on, now," he said, and they stood up. At the door of her bedroom, Scott paused.
"You get back into bed, and I'll back in a just a bit," he said.
"Okay," Charlie said, reluctantly.
She went back to her bed, and scrambled up, and then back down again, to turn up her own lamp, which made soft light dance
across the room. Then she sat, cross-legged on her bed, waiting for him to return. When he came, carrying a mug of steaming
milk, he handed it to her, and then sat down on the side of the bed.
"I don't know if I can sleep," she said.
"The hot milk will help with that."
Charlie sipped at the hot drink, until it was gone, and Scott took the empty mug from her. "Slide down under there," he told her,
and Charlie slipped under the quilt, still sitting up. She wished mightily that she hadn't told him earlier that she didn't want him to read to her.
"I'm sorry I didn't read with you," she said, tears springing to her eyes.
"It's alright," he said. "Lay down there, now."
Charlie laid down, obediently, and said, "Will you read now? Just a little?"
"We'll read tomorrow," he said, tucking the quilt up around her.
"I don't want to have any more dreams," she said.
"I'm going to sit right here until you go to sleep," Scott said. "I think the only dreams you'll have now will be good ones."
"For true? You think so?" Charlie asked, hopefully.
"I think so," Scott said, sounding definite. He reached over and turned the lamp down, so that the room was mostly darkened,
lit only by the hallway lights.
"What if I do have another bad one, though?" she asked.
"Then you come across the hall to me," he said.
Charlie felt her heart squeeze. There was a few minutes of quiet and then Charlie reached out, finding his hand in the near
darkness.
L