 Fox woke up to the sound of screaming. She rolled off the couch and scooped up the pistol on the coffee table in one smooth motion, scanning the doorways for threats. As her vision cleared, she realized that the screams were coming from the bedroom. She took the pistol into the waistband of a shorts and walked into the bedroom. Bullfrog was thrashing about and moaning in his sleep. The bed sheets rumbled and tangled all around him. He screamed out loud at something, hands reaching up and flailing at something in the air in front of his face. Fox very carefully put the pistol down on the floor and walked slowly and deliberately to the side of the bed. Careful not to touch him, she leaned in close and whispered one word into his ear. Jeremiah. His eyes snapped open and he let out one last strangle scream of alarm. His hands flailed one last time, hitting her in the face hard. Son of a bitch! Fox shouted. She put a hand to her face and leaped back from the bed. Oh, Bullfrog whispered. He rolled out of bed, his face contrite, and reached for her, recoiling at the last minute. I'm fine, Fox said quickly. He just clipped me a bit in your sleep, I got a bit too close, and her heart broke at the expression on his face. I'm fine. She reassured him, and then to make sure that he understood, she crawled under the sheets with him and held him tight. It took a long time for him to finally get to sleep again, and when he did, he trembled and shuddered. She put her arms around his waist and held on tightly, refusing to let him go as his shoulders shook and silent tears fell. He finally calmed down and went to sleep about a half hour later. She climbed out of bed once his breathing had evened and picked up the pistol from the ground. She walked back out into the living room, wrapped herself back up in the blankets, and stared at the wall for a long, long time.