<span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-align: center;">BEE AND JEREMOR CO-POST<br/>Lizelle and Christopher</div></span><br/><br/>"O, jammer," Lizelle automatically apologized in Afrikaans when she bumped into Nikolai as they ran. He didn't appear to heed her, anyway, so she kept moving. She didn't want to pull too far ahead of him - she felt strangely responsible for his well-being, and he seemed rather distracted - but she also didn't want to let the loping Brit up ahead to get too far away. When had she become the mother hen of the little group, she wondered.<br/><br/>"Helo, wait a bit please," she called ahead to Christopher and immediately stuck out her tongue with a disgusted "bleh!" so she could wipe the taste of lime off it. Had she just inhaled a lime flavoured snowflake? Really? Of all things to taste in a dream, it had to be her most hated flavour?<br/><br/>That was the last straw. This was definitely no dream, she decided.<br/><br/>"Hey!" she heard someone call out. Lizelle turned and her eyes widened when she saw a group of three people emerge from the forest not too far from them. She stopped in her tracks when she recognized one of them as originally belonging to their little group. "Hi ..." she replied somewhat confusedly.<br/><br/>“I’m here to take you somewhere safe. Follow me if you want to stay alive," the lady of the group said. Lizelle was in no mood to argue, so she took a step forward to follow, only to stop herself a second later. She glanced over at her companions and noticed that the plucky Brit was nowhere to be found. He was still running for his dream-life in the opposite direction.<br/><br/>"Oi!" she yelled, louder this time. She set off in pursuit of him again, grumbling to herself about being the responsible one.<br/><br/>But Christopher was not a responsible one, as much as he believed himself to be all things good and logical. He was going to be a scientist, for crying out loud, so it stood to reason that he possessed all of these qualities in spades. So, running right along and only stopping to peek around safely, the limey rascal didn't seem to pay heed to the woman's yell. A dreadful thing, yelling dreams, that was he was going to be very glad to be rid of soon. Was there ever an emergency exit from a dream? A big red door that said EXIT above it in flashing lights?<br/><br/>This meant that it was rather easy for Lizelle to catch up to him. Even if he had been an Olympic sprinter, which he most certainly was not, all of that stopping and looking around for an exit was really slowing down his pace. He was crouched low like an inexperienced burglar, or a very self-conscious peeping tom, and scurrying away every so often. Lizelle caught up the distance between them rapidly, and planted a hand on his shoulder that made him leap in surprise and spin around with his fists up. They were ready for fisticuffs, if turned a bit the wrong way around.<br/><br/>"What in the blazes!" He shouted into her face.<br/><br/>Lizelle made a face in surprise at his violent reaction and did the only thing she could think of to bring him back to his senses. She slapped him lightly across the cheek. "Get a hold on yourself!"<br/><br/>Perhaps it was a bit of an overreaction on her part, but it did feel rather nice.<br/><br/>"There's a rescue party," she added by way of an explanation and motioned over her shoulder with a hooked thumb. "We need to follow them."<br/><br/>"Oof!" He was surprised by the slap against his skin. The feel of her own on his, the little stinging, the way his cheek sort of rippled... it was all exactly as it should be. How could that be possible? Were dream things supposed to actually be able to grab you and slap you and make you feel things? If these was a dream, it had suddenly passed into far more dangerous territory than he had thought. Hadn't that tree scratched him earlier, too? Couldn't he feel the cold sensation of those snowflakes everywhere? All of that... "Excuse me, love."<br/><br/>He reached out and grabbed her by the hand, feeling her skin up her forearm. It was soft, very nice. She definitely moisturized. Dreams didn't have nice soft skin. Somehow, some way, he had crossed over some threshold and into something new. Maybe they all had, in fact, this people he'd considered figments of his imagination.<br/><br/>"Pardon me." Chris released her arm at that point, clearing his throat in some embarrassment. He looked over her shoulder at their rescuers and nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, right, well. Cheerio, then. Lead on."