Hunched against the drizzle Niall clutched his paper coffee cup. He did not walk, but rather trudged, along the pavement. An anorak-clad man splashed towards him with his head down, careless of where he was heading. Niall did not need to think as he dodged into the road and then back onto the pavement. He had lived in the city long enough now. The steps of this dance with nameless partners was second nature.

The South African voice in his ears carried on. “Think about your breath. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. That’s it. Keep going. You’re doing great. If you have a stray thought. Something bothering you maybe. Just acknowledge it and put it to one side. Come back to your breath. In, two...”

Niall focused on how he was bothered by that stupid calm voice. They could take their ‘two three four’ and stick it up their...

A buzz in his pocket pulled him further away from the shallow place of calm he aspired to touch. He stuck his free hand into his pocket but clamped down on the urge to pull his phone out. He sighed. More emails asking, demanding, changes to the presentation no doubt. Looking at them now would be pointless. The change would be edited, blocked, reinstated, and reworded a dozen times before he reached the office. Better to wait and deal with whatever it was at work rather than getting involved now. It’s not as if anyone was interested in his opinion anyway.

He hunched deeper and walked faster. “In, two three four...”

****

A blink.

Everything went black.

He tried to move, but could not. Restrained. Trapped. No, not restrained. There was nothing to restrain. He could not feel his body. He could not feel anything. No sight, no sound, no touch, no smell. Not even a breath to fill his lungs. Wait, what lungs?

Panic rose. Whatever had happened there was still something in him with the ability to feel fear.

A voice.

“Tum, tum, tumpty tum. Here we go again. Again, again, again. Here we go again.

He could not hear, yet the voice was there. Male. Singsong. Bored.

“Maybe this will be the one my Lady. He won’t of course. I know he won’t, you know he won’t, we all know he won't, but maybe. Maybe? It has to work eventually. Or possibly it doesn’t. Hey ho. Ho hey. Let’s pop him down right there, shall we? Your move. Waltz with me, my lady.

“And you, little eavesdropper. Try to survive longer than the others. All you have to do is get home. Get home or your mother will die, and your father will die and your sister will die. All of them will die painfully and slowly. Or quickly and painlessly. But dead, dead-ity dead, all the same-ity same.”

A blur.

Niall looked down at the rickety kitchen table he had grown up with. His parents and sister sat eating toast and marmalade. He felt a softness mingled with terror, it had been too long since he visited. With his mouth half open, his father chewed in that way Niall had always found irritating. A black knife appeared at each of their necks. The blades were insubstantial and wispy, as if they were made out of shadow, yet he knew they would cut if they came any closer. His family ignored the threat to the lives even as danger floated in front of them. They carried on sipping coffee, oblivious to the danger they were in.

Niall tried to call out a warning but there was still nothing of him to call out.

A blur.

Niall was back in the void. The voice started to speak again.

“But you can stop it. Aren’t you clever? All you have to do is to go home. Home. Wouldn’t it be nice to go home? It’s what you want anyway. Think of this as motivation. An incentive if you like. Keep trying. Never give up. Return home. But to return home, you have to leave. So away. You. Go.”

***

Sensations reappeared in a rush. Cool. A deep breath. Nostrils filled with the piney smell of air freshener. Bright. Drizzle and grey replaced by sun and green.

Niall stumbled and tripped over a tree root.

A tree root.

He looked down. That he stood in a forest was not what worried him the most. No, what worried him most was the fact he was naked. His curly brown hair fell into his eyes as he lifted his head again. It appeared that even the product in his hair had been removed.

A rustle in the undergrowth. He jumped backwards trying to cover the bits of him that could cause embarrassment as he did so. Immediate regret. His soft feet were spiked by the twigs beneath him. For a few moments he hopped around. That made things worse. Eventually, slightly out of breath, he found a less uncomfortable place to stand.

He stood and looked around. It was definitely a forest, or a wood. Definitely one of the two. What was the difference between a wood and a forest anyway? Tall trees - he would love to be able to say they were oaks or redwoods or whatever wood, but he had no clue, they were just big trees - reached to the skies around him. This was not a tame forest. Not a normal forest with paths, and signs, and walking trails and rangers, and, ideally, a coffee shop. No, none of that. He was in an uncivilised wilderness that had not been shaped by humans.

He hated nature, the great outdoors, back to basics all of that. Nothing good ever came of it. It was always, just, well, uncomfortable. The wrong temperature. Bits that got in your shoes. Insects. All awful.

A thought came and he relaxed. Naked, alone, in the woods. Jumping from one weird thing to another. He knew what was going on. This must be an anxiety dream. No one was actually threatening his family. His subconscious must be getting in a lather about the presentation.

Now he had realised it was a dream he would wake up. Any minute now. No real rush. Given he had worked it out the forest was quite peaceful. But that was enough now. Time to go. Come on.

He listened as he waited. The only noises were those provided by nature. Birds sang, undergrowth rustled, wind blew through the branches. What he heard most was the absence: the lack of the sound of voices, no hum of traffic, no rumble of planes passing overhead. It was striking how detailed his imagination had made this place.

Minutes passed. Five, ten, fifteen. Was it possible to get bored in a dream? He rubbed his hands over his arms. It appeared it was certainly possible to feel cold. Why was he not leaving? Was this somehow real?

He probably needed some sun cream. He had inherited pale skin from his mother, his childhood summers had the common refrain of his mother telling him he would burn easily so he needed to put on sun cream and get indoors. Why both, not one or the other? It made no sense. In any case sun cream would be good now. Parts of him were exposed that had never seen the light of day before.

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He considered calling out. If this was real, someone must have brought him here. Stripped him naked and left him. Why would someone do that? Why him? Were they really going to hurt his family?

A snap of a breaking twig to his right broke into his introspection. Niall involuntarily jerked away from the noise. A fragment, of a hint, of a fleeting memory, floated to him: he should not be able to make sudden movements if this was a dream. Niall put the thought aside and concentrated on the now. Footsteps crunched in the leaves and Niall crouched behind a large tree. His mind raced.

Was hiding the right thing to do? Maybe he should call out. But he had no clothes. What would he do if he saw a naked man in the woods? What if the sounds were being made by a woman? Even for an anxiety dream that would be a low blow from his subconscious. This was awful.

Niall could not ever remember feeling so vulnerable. Nothing about this made sense. But he knew that whatever came towards him, facing it without clothes was not what he wanted.

The footsteps sounded louder still, and then stopped. Another twig snapped. Niall shut his eyes and tried not to breathe too loudly. What if they thought that he was a naked heavy-breather in the woods? He willed himself to wake up. Oh, the horror.

Nothing. Eventually Niall opened his eyes and squinted into the sun. It was bright and crisp. If he recalled correctly, it had been a damp, drizzly day in the city, not a sunny one. The tree and the leaves were dry. The weather did not change that fast, did it? Oh, maybe it did. He shook his head. What was he doing? The weather was not what he should be focusing on right now.

The only sounds were the wind in the leaves and the songs of the birds. Slowly, carefully, silently, Niall peeked out from behind the tree. He immediately moved back and clasped his hand over his mouth. He choked down the remnants of the gasp that rose in his throat.

He shut his eyes again and a few tears traced down his face. This was just a dream. Keep saying it. ‘This is just a dream.’

It was only a glance but he knew what he had seen, yet he could not have seen it. A broad chest clad in plate metal armour. On his back, what Niall could only guess was a double-headed war hammer. Whatever it was, Niall knew he would struggle to even lift it.

However, that paled behind what rose nine feet in the air to crown it, the head of a horned bull. Beneath it all, hugely muscled arms negligently holding a twig the large hands snapped in half as the beast looked towards Niall.

Long moments passed and nothing changed. Niall carefully opened his eyes again. Still there was no sound beyond those of the forest. He could feel sweat on his back cooling rapidly and forced himself not to shiver.

A hot breath caressed his cheek and a twig snapped loudly in his ear. Niall squealed. All sense of modesty left him and he raced deeper into the woods. A small, ignored part of his mind noted he should not be able to run in dreams. Yet, he ran. Something like a deep rumbling laugh came from behind him and heavy footsteps pounded in pursuit. Easy paced. Inexorable.

Adrenaline numbed any sense of pain in Niall’s feet as he tried to make his legs move faster. His heart hammered in his chest. There was the sound of shouts, and of metal striking metal.

Niall ignored everything and ran. His breath came in great gasps. The last time he had run this much was in school. He had hated it then as well. No breath left. He had to stop. A tree to one side, larger than the others, caught his eye.

He dived behind it and crouched as low as he could. Eyes shut, he took large gulps of air as quietly as he could. A childish belief: if I can’t see it, it can’t see me. Something weighty slammed into his tree. Something light floated down to cover his legs. He very much hoped they were leaves. With a whimper he opened his eyes and skittered backwards.

A fight had broken out, the combatants weaving between the trunks. The minotaur, and Niall could not believe he was even thinking that word, was in the middle of the clearing facing off against a man wearing a chainmail coat. The man wielded a double headed axe that was almost as large as the hammer that the minotaur carried. To one side was a woman in leather armour wielding a long bow. Multi-coloured feathers twined in her hair gleamed in the sun.

Although Niall was sure it had only been a few moments, it was clear that the fight was well advanced. In addition to the arrow wounds the minotaur had a number of slashes on his bare arms, while the man clearly favoured his left leg.

The woman fired off an arrow. Niall flinched even though it was not aimed toward him. The arrow found a gap in the armour and punched into the beast’s body. The impact forced it to stagger backwards. It recovered before the man could take advantage. The stagger turned into a spin and a bellow as the minotaur swung his hammer at the man’s head.

The man dove to the ground to avoid the crushing blow. Taking advantage of the distraction, the woman darted in. The bow was now slung on her back and instead she wielded two long straight daggers. Nimble hands slashed towards the narrow gaps in the armour plates on the minotaur’s back.

With a speed Niall would not have believed the huge beast was capable of, the minotaur whipped its head around. It's body followed, and then it just kept on spinning. The minotaur disappeared as the air around it turned into a whirlwind that slowly rose to shoulder height.

The woman’s strike was spun away by the force of the wind but she immediately crouched, ready to attack again. The rotating cone of air slowed, and then stopped, to reveal the minotaur once more. It hung for a moment before it fell back down to earth, its hammer falling towards the woman’s head.

In an unnatural feat of agility, the woman jumped into the air and twisted around the head of the hammer. Niall did not think it was conceivable but the impossible leap avoided the unmissable blow. Not only that, but the dodge turned into a counterattack. With a sense of inevitability, her blades plunged into the minotaur’s calf. As the two of them hit the ground, the impact ripped the blades out of the creature’s leg.

The force of the fall sent the woman tumbling into the dirt but she did not release either blade. She started to look up, but she did not have time to raise her head before a heavy leather boot to her skull sent her flying across the clearing. Dazed, she landed directly in front of where Niall cowered in terror.

The minotaur let out another bellow. This had a different quality to it, more musical, with a physical edge that smashed directly into him. Against his will Niall found that he was frozen in place. He could only move his eyeballs.

From where he stood Niall realised that the minotaur’s call had also affected the woman in front of him. She was not frozen, but her movements were sluggish. As Niall looked on unblinkingly, the minotaur charged towards the woman. Blood anointed the grass as it poured from its leg.

Just as it was about to reach her, the beast abruptly stopped and stumbled forward. Niall looked transfixed at the axe that had cut though the metal of the minotaur’s armour and was embedded deep in its back. The minotaur tried to turn and the motion ripped the axe out of the man’s hands.

As it did so, the woman leapt up. Somehow, she had managed to throw off whatever it was that the minotaur had done to affect her. Blood dripped from her face as her daggers plunged into the beast’s neck.

It fell to its knees and then collapsed onto its snout, its horns only inches from Niall’s foot. The woman went with it, flying through the air, her grasp firm on the daggers embedded in its neck.

The minotaur’s eyes widened as it caught sight of Niall. Despite its injuries it clawed at the earth to try to reach Niall. The hands unclenched and its eyes glazed over. With a final shudder it was still, its open eyes staring towards Niall. Above it, splattered in blood, the bearded man stared down at the beast.

The gore-covered man put his foot on the minotaur’s back and pulled out the axe. He stood with his blade raised, ready to chop into the beast’s neck before slowly lowering it. The man slumped; fatigue etched on his face. He held out a hand and helped the woman to her feet.

Niall felt something warm and wet on his toes and realised he was no longer frozen in place. He looked down to see the blood from the minotaur pooling at his feet. The horror of what he had just witnessed built to breaking point and he could not hold himself back any longer. A whimper emerged from his lips and dropped loudly into silence in the clearing. Immediately, two pairs of eyes snapped towards him.

Niall scrambled backwards. Again, careless of both his nakedness and the ground underfoot, he turned and ran. He heard the man call out behind him. The language was not one he recognised. He did not care. The enemy of his enemy was not necessarily his friend. He carried on running.

Twigs and leaves whipped across his face and body, while the undergrowth clutched at his legs. He felt cuts open on his feet but did not feel any pain from them. Behind him he heard the sound of pursuit. Within moments he felt a hand grab his shoulder and spin him around. He turned to see the archer with the blood-splattered axe man just behind her.

His breath came fast and he looked around for anything he could use to defend himself. The woman held up her hands and said something that Niall, again, did not understand. Niall shook his head and stepped backwards. As he did so he felt his ankle catch on something and he fell backwards.

There was a flash of white, and then black engulfed him.