7Lambert dreamed that night. He ran along a narrow twisting path through a deep, dark wood. The cold bit into his flesh, the rough-hewn ground painful underneath his bare feet. For he was naked and as he ran he searched the undergrowth to hide from any prying eyes and listen out for mocking laughter. There was none, only the persistent pounding of someone, or something, following him and drawing ever closer.
Running, head down, he came to a clearing and slowed down, the hard earth giving way to lush grass. The sweat stung his eyes and after he dried them with the back of his hand he spotted a curious ornamental fountain, topped by a water nymph holding a jug, and he stumbled towards it, heart pounding. Why would such an ornate piece be standing here in the middle of a wood? He leaned on i
