Dave had always thought of himself as a calm and reasonable bear. Since the age of seven, being large for his age, the task of protecting the grove had fallen on his shoulders. A mild mannered creature at heart he found the job distasteful, but accepting that there were animals, friends and family, not strong enough to defend themselves, he took on the responsibility and did what was required. This was different. The rabbit had returned.

'What's the report?'� Dave asked, with a confidence that belied his fear.

News had been filtering through for weeks now, nearby forests ravaged, communities decimated, survivors' tales of destruction that would rival the rage of the Earth Mother and finally the news they had been dreading. It was here.

'It's bad. The worst I've seen yet'� replied Brian.

A relative newcomer to the grove, Brian had often told the story of his home and the day he had to leave. Dave had always found it difficult to hear, the anguish and panic that would saturate every word of these stories. Survivors' stories. It was the hardest decision that Dave had ever made in his young life to send Brian to scout ahead, but he had volunteered, needing to confront his fears, and being a rabbit, his size and speed made him the perfect choice.

'Even worse than your home?'�
'I didn't think it was possible, but '�... I'm sorry.'�
'It's OK Brian. How much time do you think we've got?'�
'If they didn't see me, about a day. But if they did they could be here within the hour.'�

Every fibre of Dave's being wanted to believe they had a day. A day to find a new home. A day to gather food and supplies. A day to make sure the sick and elderly were ok. A day he could be there for them. With them.

'Thinkers help us to dream, but doers help us to sleep.'� His father's words echo within him as he makes his decision. Dave always knew what needed to be done; he just couldn't avoid it anymore.

'Take the others to the caverns, and then block yourselves in.'�
'What are you going to do?'�
'You need a day to move everyone comfortably; I'm going to give you that day.'�
'You can't be serious? You won't last a day.'�
'Then you'd better move quickly.'�

Brian knew that look. In the short time they had been friends, he had seen it once before and knew there was no point in arguing. Dave watched as Brian calmly herded everyone into the cave and expertly directed the sealing of the entrance.

Watching them disappear, he found himself remembering the first time they talked; the way Brian would always point out his strengths, feed his belief and dispel his doubts. Right from the beginning he'd had a confidence in him that Dave never understood. He still doesn't.

Realising that his people were safely on their way, Dave allowed himself a moment of calm retrospection. Being a highly strung animal in reality, in moments of extreme duress he would escape to memories of childhood days. He would remember hunting lessons with his father, following the pack, watching them skilfully bring down their prey, waiting patiently for them to finish feeding before roaring like the Sky Gods to scare them away, leaving the prize. They would both laugh about how easy it was, about how any resistance would have neutered their power. 'They were hunters, we were bullies' he ponders to himself, they never resisted.

'They never resisted!'� Dave spoke out loud as the horrific realisation struck him. He had never had to fight in his life. Calm now giving way to an overwhelming sense of fear and panic, he is suddenly aware of his limbs. Once powerful legs wrapped in glossy brown fur, suddenly replaced with brittle, rotten twigs covered with damp moss. How easily they could break, shatter, never to work again. Giant paws adorned with blades of purist white turned to flowers on the fly trap. He cannot defend himself; they would only be dangerous to the weakest insects. Defend against what?

Dread starts to stir up the shadows, moulding them into creatures of malevolent evil and power. Eyes that stare into your soul, grab your darkest insecurities, and drag them to the surface, piercing every vital organ on the way. Claws powerful enough to obliterate you in seconds, but delicate enough to make it last hours.

Looking around for an escape route, Dave suddenly finds himself at the centre of a maze he has no memory of entering, and no idea how to escape. The trees, once his security, now seem taller, denser and sway in a manner that mocks his long lost climbing skills. The bushes, once his camouflage, now seem to hide a hundred creatures waiting to strike him down and pick at his flesh. The moss, once his mattress, seems to transform into a sacrificial alter before his eyes.

His heartbeat starts to race, as he becomes aware of his face. His teeth, iron bars that caged the raging storm, now blades of grass hiding the frightened shrew. His nose, which let the world in to play, now empty corridors straight to his brain. Eyes that used to be alert to any threat, now conspire with the enemy, creating threats, feeding his paranoia.

Paranoia and reason, imagination and reality, both seem to mix in a way that oil and water never should, as his heartbeat starts to beat in his ears and his mind tries to escape through his eyes. All around, bushes move as if co-ordinated by some dark intelligence, the air laughs at him from all directions, a mocking laugh, taunting his weakness.

Silence.

Alone with his thoughts, no sound, no movement, Dave's imagination becomes the enemy. Waves of nausea sweep his body, his muscles contract and his heart fills with despair. Then stops.

Falling to his knees, clutching his empty chest, Dave closes his eyes, telling himself it's only a dream, that when he opens them again all will be back to normal. Lying foetal on the inviting moss he hears movement. Opening eyes that sting with fresh tears, he can barely make out the shapes of dozens of small creatures moving tentatively towards him.

As life desperately clings to his last breath, he has time for one last realisation; his heart didn't fail, it was broken.

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