Hobie felt his eyes open and saw his coat floating across the green like a large winged thing, flapping its extremities, moving away from him slowly, as though taunting him to follow. He moved his legs quickly, but realized that he wasn't moving. His vocal cords tightened, and his diaphragm contracted, but no sound came out. He felt his friends staring at him and tried harder to run, but still didn't move.
He awoke briefly, smelled the odor of the spring, and felt moisture dripping off the conifer onto his exposed skin. Consciousness slowly told him that he'd been dreaming. He lowered his head back onto the scratchy forest litter and returned to sleep. Soon, the coat returned. Hobie tried again and failed to move toward it. Now from under the coat, protruding from its shoulders he could see glowing, slanted eyes in darkness. His hooves skidded across the rocky ground, but as before, he went nowhere. A harsh laugh came from the precious coat and shook him awake again.
Trembling in the forest bowl under the tree, Hobie determined not to return to the frightening scene, and laid awake listening to the night sounds of this place, a couple of owls, a bullfrog in a nearby bog, the uncountable buzzing insects They weren't much more comforting than his dreams, and made him wish for his pen. The one saving fact of this accommodation was the slight warmth provided by the spring, trapped by the fatherly evergreen. Soon, without deciding to, Hobie descended into quiet, dreamless sleep.