in an alternate reality - dreamnotfound

Chapter Four

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"You might want to rethink your independence," Dream placed a hand on the handle of the sword that was tucked away in his sheath, "because I'm not going to be willing to give it to you without a proper fight."

***

The only sound that filled the air other than forms of wildlife singing to the moon was Dream's worn leather soles meeting a cobblestone path that housed sharp rocks which jutted out and threatened to cut his feet, even through the boots. He tried his best to avoid them, but with the darkness that engulfed him, he found it hard to see the path at all.

He kept himself going, though, reminding himself that just beyond this path was a home waiting to welcome him in, housing food and a warm bed. Not only that, but the people inside the home wondering where he was were his best friends, and he hadn't seen them in ages - at least not in his own reality.

A warm breeze settled through the woods, blowing Dream's hair around until a few thin strands stuck themselves to Dream's lips. He reached a hand up and pulled the hair away, making a face that indicated he was disgusted by the wind's antics.

It continued to blow, however, seemingly not bothered by Dream's dismay. In fact, it seemed to pick up, pushing dead leaves across the path in front of him, and causing whistling noises as it filtered through hollow trees and tightly wound limbs.

He found himself staring down at the cobblestone and squinting his eyes, trying to see where the rocks lie so he could avoid them at all costs, completely ignoring the setting before him. He failed to notice the warm light that grew visible across the grass, reflecting off of a nearby lake, one that had been hand dug and filled with water from seemingly hundreds of trips to the nearby ocean, using iron buckets that Dream had crafted himself.

The only thing that brought any of this to his attention was when he managed to bump into a wooden fence. It made contact with his stomach and he groaned, moving a hand to rest just above his waist. He looked towards the fence, wondering who on earth had put this random fence in the path, when he saw the house.

It was two stories, made of cobblestone and oak. It looked basic, crafted by people who barely had any building skills or maybe they just hadn't had the proper tools. (Dream remembered building this house, trying his best to make use of the stone tools that he had carefully constructed.)

The urge to break out into a run and burst in the front door, calling out for his friends and wrapping them up in a tight hug once they made an appearance was tempting, and he almost did it. But one thing stopped him, and that was that he didn't technically belong in this reality. They hadn't known he had been locked away in prison for months on end. They still remembered the old Dream.

So, he took extra care to assure his hair looked nice and that his clothes weren't wrinkled, and then he carried himself up the path made this time of all sorts of stones, and knocked on the door.

It took a moment and for a solid minute, Dream assumed they weren't going to answer, but he was proved wrong when the door swung open and revealed George, in all his glory, panting as if he had just run a marathon.

Dream smiled, "Hello, George."

George tilted his head in amusement, a small smile breaking through his pants. He offered Dream a hand and as soon as Dream took it, he pulled him inside, revealing to Dream the safety of a true home, one that he knew well.

"What took you so long?" George began, searching Dream over, up and down, "You look terrible. Why are you wearing the community house clothes? What happened to your other ones?" George placed his hands on Dream's face, carefully wiping away a smudge of dirt that Dream had overlooked in his attempt to look presentable.