Chapter Sixteen: In Which Ralph the Timid has disturbing dreams.

Ralph slept.
The night was not too cold, and not too hot. The wind did not blow too hard. The rain did not rain at all. Since it was night, and therefore dark, the sun did not shine too hotly on him. There was nothing in the weather to disturb his sleep.
The ground was hard, but he had slept on the ground before. Ralph the Timid was tough. He'd camped out under the stars before. He was used to a little bit of discomfort. The fire crackled but burned down soon enough. It glowed gently and warmed him. There was nothing in all of this either to disturb his sleep.
Ethel, the Unexpectedly Large Warbler, warbled on through the night. Her song flowed through the air, skating and sliding warbling notes floating like oil on water ....warble warble warble warble tweet warble warble warble warble warble warble. It was a soothing noise, repetitive and calming. There was nothing there to disturb Ralph the Timid's sleep either.
But disturbed Ralph the Timid's sleep was. Strange images chased each other through his head. A mysterious package, wrapped in greasy brown paper and tied with string. A cat of over generous proportions and fierce countenance. A man in multicoloured clothes with a manic grin. They danced in his head to the tune of Ethel's warbling which filtered in through his sleeping ears. Warble warble warble (kick, reverse) warble warble warble warble (arabesque) warble warble warble...
Ralph rolled over, almost into the fire, and woke with a start. He listened carefully to see if anyone had heard him. There was no sound. He sighed, relieved he had woken no one up, rolled away from the fire and, drawing his coat closer around him, tried to drop off to sleep again.
He was out like a light in an instant, and this time he was dreaming of something quite unfamiliar. He knew where the parcel, the cat and the oddly dressed man had come from, but not this. He was standing outside of a castle, looking up at it. There was a great oak door several times the height of a man immediately before him. Walls taller still stretched up on either side, walls many feet thick. And from the corners of these walls, and within them, towers stretched up like a forest in which every tree strives to be taller than its neighbour. There was one deep inside the walls, almost where the castle backed on to the hillside that was taller than all the others. Impossibily narrow and unreasonable of height, it stretched up, up higher than any tree Ralph had ever seen. It seemed to scrape the clouds.
And then, as Ralph stared in dreamlike wonder, he was suddenly transported closer to the tower. He flew through the air, as one can in dreams, and arrived at the triangular window cut into one side. And there, in the window, he saw a beautiful princess leaning on the window sill and sighing heavily.
Ralph had never seen anyone so beautiful. He reached out a hand to touch her, but started to fall. He tumbled, down, down, down, down, down. As he fell he dreamed she had called out to him. He couldn't hear what. He was too busy falling. Just as the dream Ralph was about to hit the ground, he woke up.
Ralph lay awake, breathing heavily. He didn't like falling dreams at all. And what an odd dream it had been! He hadn't dreamt about princesses since he was about ten years old and had dreamt of being a heroic rescuer. He waited for his heartbeat to slow down to normal pace, and as he waited he heard something.
Something, or someone, was moving in the darkness. Ralph tried to roll over to have a look while still looking like he was asleep. He knew who it wasn't - it wasn't Ethel. Ethel he could still hear singing merrily from the tree as she had been doing all night. Was it Ginger McSporran? Was it Mad Pete? Was it Twinkle, escaped from his sack and coming to bite Ralph's ankle again?
He peered through the darkness lit only by the dull glow of the fire and whatever starlight filtered through the trees. It was Mad Pete. He had uncurled himself from his spot by the fire and was creeping towards Ginger McSporran, who was snoring lightly and cradling Twinkle (in his sack) and the parcel to his chest.
Ralph the Timid watch as Mad Pete got closer to Ginger McSporran. What was he doing? Was he going to steal the parcel? Would Ginger wake up? Should he do something? He watch with frozen alertness, ready to spring up if Mad Pete were to seize the package and run.
Mad Pete stretched out one multicoloured shirt clad arm and reached for the parcel.
Just as Ralph was about to leap to his feet, something closed around Mad Pete's wrist. A luminious smile appeared on the face of the black beast of the caves. "Can I help you, Mad Pete?" said the deep voice of Ginger McSporran.
Mad Pete sputtered gently, then said hopefully "I was sleepwalking?"
Ginger McSporran pushed him idly away, shook his head, and folded his wings more securely over the package he held. "Go to sleep, Mad Pete. This is not your parcel."
Mad Pete huffed out a breath of disappointment, turned on his heel, and walked over to Ethel's tree where he sat with his head on his knees, rocking backwards and forwards and muttering to himself.
Ralph the Timid wondered for a moment if he should tell them that he was awake. But he was sleepy and Ginger McSporran seemed to have everything under control. He rolled over to look at the fire, and before he had time to think, he was off to sleep again.
Ethel warbled on. Ralph the Timid dreamed again. He dreamed that he had dreamed that Mad Pete had been sneaking over to steal the package from Ginger McSporran, but that Ginger McSporran had told him not to, and that Mad Pete had said he was only sleepwalking.
And so it was that Ralph the Timid was very confused when he woke up the next morning.

(Word Count: 19500)