A crisp night, wonderful sleeping weather. A breeze coming through your window and drifting across your face. The moon out and full, shining lightly into a corner of the room. Everything silent, and calm, and peaceful. You are wrapped in the coziest down comforter, on gorgeously soft sheets, fast asleep.
From somewhere in the distance, a sound reaches into your deep, dreaming mind, and you stir.
Your half-dreaming brain ignores the sound, and you sleepily roll over, drifting back to sleep, when –
Suddenly, you’re awake. You peer anxiously over the side of the bed, but all is inky black, the moon illuminating only a tiny corner of your now suspiciously dark bedroom.
You freeze, ears and eyes straining to see something, hear something, coming towards you in the darkness of your room. You see nothing. Hear nothing.
After long, silent minutes, your body begins to relax. It was just a loose plastic bag, perhaps, or the dog next door shuffling about.
You close your eyes and allow yourself to slowly drift back to sleep, when –
A ferocious, feral cry splits the night, and you tear your eyes open to see a small, dark body plummeting through the air towards your face, waving its arms and shrieking – oh, the ungodly shrieking – teeth bared, yellow eyes burning with rage.
You panic, flailing wildly, grabbing something – anything! – with which to defend yourself, shouting and sobbing and praying, when –
beaver settles himself nicely onto your chest, grinning ferociously, showing his teeth.
Welcome to life with beaver. Something you should know:
He just waits. And bides his time.