The swirling mists began to clear.

"Well," commented Cinderbelle, "Whoever is dreaming this loves statues."

They were standing in what appeared to be a vast formal garden. Paved pathways wound between statues and flowerbeds, lightly shrouded in mist. The mist obscured the statues slightly, giving them a brooding air that they might not otherwise have.

Dancer shrugged. Wandering through dreams was starting to affect her perceptions a little. That, and the scenery was giving her a bad case of deja vu. She had seen something like this before. Once.

"And they like octopii as well. And fish. At the same time."

The feeling of deja vu was getting stronger.

"Cinderbelle... Can you remember the way back to Flapjack's dream?"

"What! The perveted leprachaun? Why do you want to go back there?"

"Because I have worked out whose dream we are in. At least, I have got it down to two, and I really don't like one of the choices..."

There was a sound behind them. A female figure was standing on one of the plinths. She was garbed in a loose white robe and was holding a bow, with the arrow trained right at them. The bow was fully drawn, and the figure was sighting down the arrow.

"Who are you?" the figure asked, relaxing the tension in the string. "You aren't one of the dreamers." Her speech was marked with a strange accent.

"Dreamers?" queried Cinderbelle.

"You really don't want to know." replied the figure, giving them an appraising look. "What would a minor fey and a minor manifestation of probability be doing here? Don't look do insulted - all things are relative."

The figure suddenly spun, readied the bow and loosed an arrow into the mists. There was a screech followed by an explosion.

"Exploding arrow?" asked Dancer.

"Not when I fired it."

Cinderbelle tugged at Dancer's sleeve. "Um." she whispered. "Haven't you noticed? She..."

Dancer shushed her. She may not had the finest of classical educations, but...

The figure standing before them was female - obviously - with an almost-flawless tanned figure, a slightly exotic caste to her features, and...

The mists swirled again, and she was gone. In her place was another white-robed female, white and in her late sixties, carrying a staff. She looked at them oddly.

"You shouldn't be here." she said. Then the mists took her too.

She was replaced by a dark-skinned female in the same sort of robe.

"Finally!" exclaimed Ebony. "This way out, guys."