Nightmare had always hated the village and each of its inhabitants individually, as much as the inhabitants hated him. And for this reason, the very thought of leaving his doubtful, but still at least a little safe place under the Tree of Feelings caused him to break out in cold sweat and tremble in his knees. But the need in the form of hunger twisted his ephemeral insides no less than fear, so every damn time Nightmare overcame a nauseating lump in his throat and reluctantly went there, to the village, on wobbly legs, hoping to steal at least a bun or a piece from a skewer with that divinely smelling meat. It was unbearably humiliating to steal, but he considered it even more humiliating to ask his brother or even worse to beg, so he stole. Even if he was often caught and then beaten to a standstill.

This time, Nightmare was able to steal a couple of pies with… lingonberries, it seems, but he hardly had time to be glad that this time he was not caught, the menacing gaze of the seller fell right on him and immediately a growling, confused scream rose. "You filthy bastard, give back what you stole!" *and a huge wolf-man rushed at Nightmare to grab it with his sharp claws and it barely managed to dodge. The already familiar fear of being beaten swirled inside, dispersing hot blood and magic through the bones, forcing them to move, run, wriggle between other stalls and try to hide in the crowd. Nightmare ran, trying not to look back, ran, dodging random passers-by, but the terrible fangs snapped right a couple of inches from his hand and his soul collapsed into his heels. He ran into a dead end. Nightmare looked around in horror, panicking, looking for any escape route, any shelter, anything! But the only thing that came to fill the head of Nightmare with thoughts of future pain and humiliation was to throw it to one of the random passers-by and hide behind his legs, as if he could count on it to somehow save him.