"The Oak Tree One?" I ask.
It sounds like some crap soap opera story line already. Something involving false accusations of murder.
"Rat Tooth the squirrel," the giant rumbles, as if that should clear everything up.
It doesn't. The name means nothing to me, other than this Rat Tooth is either a rodent or looks like one. It's hard to tell which way things will go in this dream.
"Imprisoned for destroying the world tree -"
"I thought you said 'oak tree'," I say.
She needs to make her bloody mind up.
"- and inciting riots in the deer herds of the North, and draining the mead barrels of the Dawn, and encouraging serpents to ruin paradise, and causing the Great Icequake that birthed a thousand icebergs, and stealing the Red Dragon's hoard, and singing ridiculous songs at inappropriate times, and -"
"Wait a minute," I say. "Are all those things actually against the law?"
The dead giant is silent. This includes not breathing so there is a short moment of respite from the full strength of her stench. As if I needed any proof that she really is dead when her flesh is turning green and oozing in places it shouldn't.
"I'm not being funny but if they are, they're stupid laws," I add.
"You're right," says the giant. "You're not funny."
I ignore her. "I mean, who cares about a tree?"
"The people who imprisoned Rat Tooth," she says. "Obviously."
I open my mouth to reply but can't think of anything to say. I shut it, quickly, if only because I don't enjoy tasting the smell.
"You will free him from his oak tree prison as your first act of penance."
"Fine. Where is it?"
"If I told you that, it wouldn't be a challenge worthy of an act of penance."
I snarl because I can't think of a better way to express my disgust at her stupidity.
"Go on, then," she says and waves a massive, rotting hand as if she's about to flick me away. "Off you pop."
I turn around and look in the direction she's waving me in. At least it doesn't look boggy.
"That way?" I ask.
There's no answer and when I turn back, she's grinning at me. Mountainous zombie shoulders shrug.
"Fine," I say.
It's as good a direction as any other and I might even avoid getting muddier.