The Moon Controls the Tide (it could cause you to drown)

Lets Go in the Garden (you'll find something waiting)

Tommy is tired.

Well, no shit he is. He just walked about 50 (probably more like 10) miles away from the one place he wasn't allowed to leave.

Oh.
Oh gods. Dream is gonna be so upset with him. Tommy is dead. Tommy is actually dead. Dream's gonna kill him. Dream is actually going to kill him.

He should go back before he notices.
I mean, no shit, of course Dream noticed. He's been gone for what felt like hours, and Dream usually leaves Tommy for at most an hour if he has to check on something or meet someone.

The cold wasn't helping, either. Considering the only option Tommy had that wasn't a whole fucking ocean was North, things weren't the greatest.

Tommy was cold, Tommy was tired, and most importantly, Tommy was scared. Dream would find him. Dream would be here any minute to-

No.
Dream probably wouldn't find him. It's not like he had a tracker on him. Those kind of technology is only allowed for the gods, and if Dream snuck a compass into his pocket, surely he'd know by now.

And Dream, Dream is just a human who tries too hard to seem like a god but comes a little short.

Tommy couldn't feel his feet. They've been numb after a whole 30 minutes in the freezing snow.

Granted, Tommy did only have a single, very old sneaker (which was supposed to be red, but it wasn't even close to that colour anymore) with a hole and his other foot only had a large bandage wrapped around his foot twice, and a sock.

Gods, if he wasn't going to die from Dream, he'd definitively die from frostbite, or hype-thermos whatever it's called.

Oh no.
That's a house. A home. Someone lives here. Tommy- Tommy just walked straight onto someones land.

Frantically, he fumbles to reach the hilt of his sword (given that it wouldn't break immediately after getting it off his belt), and pulls it out.

The flimsy makeshift sword (if you could even call it that) was a piece of garbage and the chances it would fend off any unwanted creatures was highly unlikely.

Tommy uses it anyway.

He was thinking of turning around right when the small cottage came into view, but there was smoke coming out of the chimney.
And smoke meant warmth.

And Tommy was fucking freezing , so if breaking and entering gave him a guaranteed chance of warming up, hell, he'd take it.

Tommy started to slowly pry open the door with his blackened (blackened? Fingers shouldn't be black. It should be fine though. Right?), numb fingers when he heard a noise.

Oh, it was just the home owner's horse.
"Hey..Please uh- please be quiet. I just need a few things then I'll be gone. Want me to pet you? uh, I can't give you food because funnily enough I don't have any myself." Tommy whispered.

He's surely gone crazy. Surely.
I mean, what kind of sane person talks to a horse?

Tommy suddenly got distracted by the horse, and started looking around for any sign of what the stallion's name could be.
He found a small engraving on his saddle.

"C A R L. Huh. Weird name for a horse." Tommy thought to himself.

He blinked and shook his head. Right. He was not here to accompany a literal horse named Carl.

Cautiously, he opened the door. After finding signs of someone living here (unmade bed, just-dusted chests-), he decided it was safe.

Tommy was surprised to see how many golden apples this man had. Probably, give or take, over a hundred. The chest was basically filled to the brim with them.