"Okay," he whispers back. God, he's terrified to say anything at all. He has no idea how sensitive these things' hearing is but if it's anything like their sense of sight, the answer is probably somewhere along the lines of really damn sensitive.

In the meantime, he resists the urge to give into every instinct that's screaming at him to bolt, moving agonizingly slowly down the bottom and to the door, all the while praying that there aren't some in the hall. Daniel has no idea what it will mean for them if there are. Objectively he does, he just doesn't want to think about it. Melanie can't protect him on all sides.

Daniel is bitterly wishing the dream had at least given him some basic tools of self-defense. Like a sidearm. Something like that would have been incredibly useful. But he's getting used to the notion that the Rift tends to be as unhelpful as possible when it comes to flinging people into dream situations.

It feels like an age before he reaches the door, which probably means he's moving as slowly as he should be, and Daniel cautiously cracks it open. He does his best to raise as little noise as possible as he peers out, scans the surrounding area.

"I don't see any," he hisses.