It Was Never the End DreamNotFound

Chapter 17

George POV

It was their last night in the workshop. George couldn't sleep. He knew the journey was at least three days of non-stop walking, only resting at night. His heart ached to leave the workshop. He was happy to see his friends again, but he would miss the workshop's more leisure lifestyle.

George knew he made the right decision. He was scared of Dream getting hurt again without help, and they'd both be safe with the group. Though there was also problems with how the Sleepy Bois would react to Dream.

George flopped onto his back, staring into the darkness. The room was silent, excluding Tommy's snoring.

"Can't sleep?" A light poke in George's side followed the whisper.

George's face flushed red as he recognized Dream's voice. His heart was still fluttering from Dream's knightly promise. He said nothing, just hummed softly in reply.

"Me too." Fabric rustled as Dream supposedly rolled over. "Tell me about the Sleepy Bois."

"What do you want to know?" George kept his voice low, aware of the two sleeping bodies in the room.

"Anything." Dream's voice was equally hushed. "Give me a story."

"There was a time Tommy wrote 'bitch' all over Techno's cabin," George began. "So Techno tied him to a tree and made him listen to Philza's lectures all day."

"Pft," Dream wheezed quietly. "Why would he do that?"

"It's Tommy, does he need a reason?"

"Fair enough."

"Techno is like a brother to Tommy and Wilbur. Philza taught martial arts, and Techno was a student of his so he was always around. Techno didn't like his parents much, so he spent a lot of time with Philza and his kids. They were together when the apocalypse hit." George explained.

George's chest felt lighter as he continued telling Dream goofy stories from back at camp. His eyes were finally growing heavy as he retold the time Niki woke up the whole camp in the middle of the night screaming over a cockroach.

Three Days Later

Blood rained down as George's arrow accurately struck the flying monster in the chest. The creature's leech-like mouth of fangs let out a screech as it splattered to the ground. 

Behind George, Dream was cutting down zombies as though they were made of butter. Wilbur and Tommy were delivering final blows to a monster with bubbling skin and the face of an alien tick.

George scanned the sky for any more winged monsters. 

"I think that's it for this batch." Dream flicked his ax, sending rancid blood flying in an arc.

George sighed in relief, tucking his bow onto his back. Their travel had been slow thanks to the monsters and undead that lurked the land. They'd left early morning three days ago, when Wilbur opened the door to flood the workshop with sunlight, grinning like a mother on school morning as they groaned awake. 

"How much farther?" Tommy complained. 

"We should reach the ravine before nightfall." Wilbur glanced at the sky, where the sun would be setting soon.

They'd decided to camp in the same cave George and Dream slept in. When morning came, Wilbur and Tommy would go to camp first. Wilbur had explained he didn't think it was a good idea to just walk into camp with Dream. George agreed with him, so he and Dream were to wait for Wilbur to talk to Philza and come fetch them. 

George could see the gaping ravine in the distance. His feet ached, his legs exhausted. He was looking forward to resting for the night. 

. . . .