DNF Oneshots (Dreamnotfound)

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Through the harsh brush and tall towering trees comes a rustle of movement. One that would scare a bunny from their green leafy bush and a bird from their nest in a high up tree. Soon after that rustle a groan and sigh sounds from the surrounding woods. One that a person could easily recognize as an upset friend or a relieved foe. However, where and who the noise is coming from is answered.

"Why the hell does everyone just leave?!" George barges through into the moss covered clearing in the wooded hills. He grasps his head, fingers intertwined in his brunette hair and nails scratching at his scalp. An arrow or two shifts in his quiver which loosely slung around his shoulders with the sudden movement and his bow swings on his elbow, the string digging into his skin.

He paces back and forth, if someone walked into the same clearing without knowing the context they would run in the opposite direction, worried he had rabies from a savage rabbit.

He finally had enough of just thinking. Sharply he turned around and pinned his eyes onto a tree. With one smooth motion, he grasped the handle of his axe and pulled it from the leather holster wrapped at his thigh. From there he swung it harshly at the trunk of the large tree. The tree had many other marks in its bark. Some natural and some from previous times George had come to let go of any simmering anger and pain. He gave the tree a few rough swings creating large gashes in its wounded wood, if he kept it up the tree would fall. Before the tree could reach that point, however, he stopped. Instead he somersaulted backwards, letting his bow fall to his non-dominant hand, using his dominant to reach back for an arrow in his quiver of many. Effortlessly he lined the arrow perfectly on the string, pulling it back to its full extent. With a quick breath he let go, letting the arrow barrel towards the beat up tree. In not even a full second the arrow hit the tree dead center with a light noise.

George's glare relaxed, eyebrows softening, as he exhaled and rose from his kneeling stance, walking up to the tree. He reached and grabbed at his arrow but didn't account for how deep the arrow was in the trunk. The arrow was so embedded that no matter how hard he tried, nothing could get it out. He wasn't one for strength, no, instead he was known for his logistical and quick thinking that made him amazing with the shield and bow. The axe was more to protect him when he was unable to distantly fight. So, he simply left the arrow there (not without making the arrow spring up and down his finger, first) leaning back onto the tree it was stuck in.

He sank down letting his knees come up to his chest so he could rest his throbbing head on them. His fingers found their way to the mossy floor, running back and forth on the interesting texture. George's breathing finally calmed and so did his noisy head, finally he had the quiet privacy he wanted. He stayed like that long enough to where the creatures of the woods started to come back out of their bushes to nibble on whatever forage there was to eat. As the wind picked up he could feel his teary cheeks become cold and pink, and soon the golden sunlight barely leaked through the leafy trees above him.

He could almost feel himself start to fall asleep, and in all honesty, he was okay if he were to sleep right there. It wasn't too chilly out and even then the moss and his bandaged arms would be enough to keep him warm. So he let himself nestle into his knees and begin to drift.

When George finally heard the animals go quiet and his breathing go slow, a loud noise erupted from above him. He shot up from his comfortable position and instantly began looking around, hand on his axe ready to strike at anyone or anything that makes a move towards him. Although when he finally looked to his side where his arrow once stood inside the tree trunk, it was no longer there. Instead there stood the all too recognizable Dream. His blonde hair poking just above his stupid smiling clay mask and his own pearly axe hanging from the holster on his back. Of course he had his classic dark green sweater which matched with his dark brown- almost black- cargo pants, too.