Moonspear i want to have the same last dream again, the one where i wake up and i'm alive

Thick, warm, delicious liquid was forced down his throat and Scion couldn't help but drink, the suckling so soothing that he fell asleep despite himself. He jerked awake an unknowable number of minutes later and tried to open his eyes again, to no avail. His ears still didn't work, either. With nothing else for it, he began to fidget, exploring himself and his surroundings with the only senses left to him: smell, taste and touch.

Nothing made sense. He could recall with perfect clarity the run to the canyon, a path the four brothers had taken countless times before. He remembered Tacoma's playful shout and the piece of gnarled wood tossed in his direction. He even recollected sailing over the edge of the ravine, though everything faded to black right about there. Had he hit his head? Did he have brain damage?

He couldn't help it. He flailed and fussed and unwittingly loosed his bladder and bowels everywhere. Somehow he wound up on his back, his forelegs flailing uselessly in the air before they grew tired and flopped onto his belly. Still crying under his breath, Scion absently kneaded his own warm underside. It felt softer than he remembered. And, with slowly dawning horror, Scion realized that an incredibly important part of his anatomy was missing entirely.

His mouth opened wide as he bawled.