I might go work on something else
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Summary
Dream had expected to wake up yet another day inside the chilliness of the prison, but instead, when he opened his eyes, he felt cold snow, falling down on his face, where it then melted.
The grey sky, tall trees with their snow-covered tops, and falling snow made the fire in the distance all-the-more appealing, and he didn't question it as he shakily pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his chilled arms as he stalked over slowly, taking a cautious seat on one of the logs, the one closest to the fire.
Embracing it's warmth, he sat like that for a what could've been a few hours, or only a few minutes, contemplating how he was out—who let him out—when he heard the distant rustle of bushes.
Before he could even get up to check, he saw a splatter of blood fly right in front of his face—his blood—and he was up, running within seconds, tripping over his very own feet as he tried to escape the flashes of pink and red in the snow, blond and black in the sky, that followed him.