Dormice know nothing of Charlemagne or Orlando Furioso, but they, too, have their paladins.  Every winter, when the sun ebbs in the smoke-colored sky and the frost scribes farewells to flowers and butterflies on the fallen leaves, the quiet, plump dormice huddle next to each other, lulled by the keening song of the woodland winds.  They dream of springtime buds and summer blossoms, spindrift seeds and the slow-blinking eyes of hungry birds.

Even in slumber, dormice know that predators seek them.  So the dormouse paladins keep vigil, bright-eyed and stern.  They do not wield sword or mace, but they wake their kindred if danger approaches.  And, knowing that not all threats come from without, they patrol the shared winter dream, making sure that shadows remain shadows until it is time to wake in the spring.

for coraa