Dream

“Hey you!”

Charlotte Picklewheel bounced down the steps of Stormwind Cathedral and into the path of a city guardsman. Shaking her bubblegum-pink hair out of her eyes, the little gnome thrust an accusatory finger at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The guard stopped in his tracks and looked down at her, bemused. “I... what?”

“What are you doing? Here? Now? Explain yourself!” she demanded. She was wearing white robes like a priestess, but there was something not quite right about them to his eyes.

“I’m... patrolling,” the guard replied vaguely, trying to figure out what it was. “What are you supposed to be anyway?” He looked around for some sort of explanation, but the handful of bystanders in the square seemed as bemused as he was.

“Don’t change the subject!” Charlotte snapped. “Who told you to patrol? Give me a name!”

“I’m. A. City. Guard,” said the guard slowly, apparently deciding that the gnome was either insane or stupid, or both. She was a gnome after all. “It’s my job.”

“It’s also the perfect cover if you were up to something. You are, aren’t you?” She withdrew her finger and hopped up on her toes, attempting to challenge his bewildered eyes with her suspicious ones. They barely reached his crotch. “Confess!”

“I don’t have time for this,” muttered the guard, brushing Charlotte aside with one sweep of his shield. She tumbled and rolled about ten yards, knocking down a small boy in the process. In a second she had sprung back onto her feet, and in two more she was looming over the terrified child.

“You planned that with him, didn’t you?” she demanded. “What are you, some kind of thieves? He knocks them over and you rob them while they’re on the ground, is that it?”

“N-no!” stammered the boy. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

“Don’t lie to me,” Charlotte snapped. “Why else would you be out here in the middle of the day? Where are your parents?”

“I... I don’t have any...” he whimpered.

“Well isn’t that convenient!” scoffed the gnome, planting her hands on her hips. The little boy looked around at the Stormwind orphanage not twenty paces away and then back to his accuser. Charlotte’s eyes flicked to the building, then back to the boy. She snorted angrily, like a tiny bull dipped in candyfloss. The boy quailed.

“Apples!” cried a voice nearby. “Nice, juicy apples! Fresh off the tree!”

Charlotte’s head snapped around. A plump yet strong man was pulling a cart full of rosy red apples with one hand, and holding one of the gleaming fruits out in front of him with the other, displaying it for all to see. He didn’t notice the little pink squall bearing down on him until it was too late. Charlotte sprinted full-pelt towards the unsuspecting fruit seller, leapt up, batted his apple away with one hand and slapped him hard across the face with the other.

“What the bloody hell was that for?!” The man blinked, touching his stinging cheek. He sounded more hurt than annoyed.

“Smuggling!” declared the gnome, bold as brass. She pointed at the cart. “Show me what’s under those apples!”

“Eh?” The fruit seller’s brow furrowed. “Don’t be absurd, child- hey!” He made a grab for Charlotte, but she ducked under his arm and hopped up into the cart.

“She’s at it again,” said an exasperated young priestess leading another, slightly older, out of the cathedral. “Look!” She pointed.

The fruit seller was yelling blue murder, trying to reach into his own cart while apples came flying out rapidly, as though fired from a machine gun. One struck him square between the eyes and he reeled, then roared furiously.

“GNOME!”

“Dream!” shouted the elder priestess, Sister Katherine, hurrying down the steps. She threw herself at the man before he could wrap his considerable hands around the gnome’s little neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“That’s my bloody livelihood!” he seethed.

“I know, I know, listen, we’ll make sure you’re not out of pocket.” She turned to the younger priestess. “Go find Brother Aled and tell him we need some silver. Go!” The girl scurried off back towards the massive building, narrowly avoiding a flying apple as she went.

“Dream...” repeated Sister Katherine, wearily. The gnome’s head and shoulders popped up from amid the pile of apples and she peered around like a meerkat. “Get out of there.”

“That’s not my name,” Charlotte scowled, but she jumped down from the cart anyway.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” said Sister Katherine, crouching to meet her, “but what the blazes do you think you’re doing?” She looked the little gnome up and down. “And why are you wearing a bathrobe?”

“I was just making sure they weren’t doing anything wrong,” Charlotte replied, defensively.

“Making sure who weren’t doing anything wrong?” asked Sister Katherine.

“Anybody.”

“Okay...” said the priestess patiently. “What made you think that they would be?”

“They always are! All of them! All the time!” cried Charlotte, stamping her foot. “And they need to stop! They need to stop now!”

“Alright, alright now,” soothed Sister Katherine, putting an arm around the tearful gnome and giving her a gentle squeeze. She paused for a moment. “And the bathrobe?”

“I fell into a pot of stew,” muttered Charlotte. “This was all I could find that fit me.”

“A pot of stew...”

Charlotte nodded.

“Were you haranguing the cook at the time?” asked Sister Katherine, suppressing the slightest of smirks.

The gnome shrugged, staring down at the ground.

“Okay Dre-- Charlotte,” said Sister Katherine. “Why don’t you go inside and help Sister Meredith in the library. She’s on her own today and I’m sure she’d be glad of the company.”

The younger priestess had returned by now with a small pouch full of coins. She handed it to Sister Katherine, who motioned for her to take Charlotte back inside. The younger girl did so, but not without rolling her eyes first. Sister Katherine gave her a reproachful look.

“Gnomes in the cathedral,” muttered the fruit seller as Sister Katherine pressed coins one by one into his palm. “I ask you.”

“We’ve only got the one,” said the priestess. “So far,” she added with a slight sense of foreboding. “We don’t turn away those in need of help.”

“Oh she needs plenty of that, trust me,” said the man. Sister Katherine stopped putting coins in his hand, but he frowned at her and reluctantly she gave him one more.

“That’ll do it,” he said, producing a purse of his own and dropping the silver into it. The priestess thought that rather more than did it, but she said nothing. “What was that you called ‘er that she didn’t like?”

“Dream,” said the priestess sadly, watching Charlotte disappear back into the cathedral. “Poor little creature has the worst nightmares. Every night she dreams about people doing the most terrible things, and every morning she wakes up shaking and covered in sweat, believing that they’re all going to come true unless she does something about it.” She shook her head. “Brother Elin thinks it might be a post-traumatic thing, you know, after what... happened to them.”

“Aye well,” said the man, pushing the leather purse back into his pocket, “speaking of traumatic events, I need a drink. Good day to you sister.” He looked around at the apples scattered all over the square. “And good luck.”

She bid him farewell and watched as the man and his cart, now considerably lightened, trundled off towards the Dwarven District.






A plump, black rat poked its nose around the corner of a building, its whiskers flickering in the half-moonlight. Someone had dropped a stale heel of bread a few feet away, but a few feet may as well be a mile in the open, and the rat wanted to be sure. It sniffed left and right, creeping forward ever so cautiously, steeling itself for the snatch.

Two things happened at once. As the rat shot out from the darkness to claim its meal, a flash of reddish-brown tore out of nowhere and seized it. The fat little rodent squealed as the fox’s teeth sank into its soft flesh, then with a rough shake its life came away, spattering dark drops of blood on the stone ground. The triumphant fox was so busy enjoying the warm, salty taste of victory, that it didn’t notice two bright green eyes watching it curiously from an alleyway.

Moments later an anguished howl pierced the still night, and somewhere deep inside Stormwind Cathedral a little gnome awoke, screaming.