Blacktail Deer Plateau and I've never thrown my mashed potatoes up against the wall

Burr slept a lot. In his dreams, Cyron and Rowana were still with him in Easthollow, and Mawk and Illecebra had never had to leave. As far as Burr knew, in the waking world, none of them had ever returned. They could all be dead, leaving him the last remaining Saefyn in the wilds, and he would never be any wiser. But when he slumbered, he went back to a world where Cyron had never been taken, where their parents had never left on a fool's errand to retrieve him, and Rowana had never disappeared without a trace.

He was reimagining the day that he gave Cyron his kingfisher feather, blue as a gemstone and sleek in the light, when a voice beckoned to him from far beyond his dream world. No, he thought dreamily, this is home, I'm home already. He wanted to protest, but the sun was calling his name, and try as he might, he couldn't keep his eyes away. He did his very best to stay focused on Cyron, but it felt like a string was attached to the back of his head, pulling it inexorably upward. He looked to the sun, squinting...

...and snorted loudly as he jerked awake, followed immediately by a long, drawn out hiss of pain as he smacked his injured ankle against the ground. His tear-limned eyes snapped open as he thumped his good forepaw against the floor, attempting to distract himself from the throbbing in his other ankle, and peered blearily around until his gaze locked on Easy, who asked him a quiet question. He'd probably woken others with his little tirade, but Burr was heedless of how disruptive he was being when he snorted again and replied, "I am now!"