Grouse Thicket Whiskey please

Sleep was close, knocking at his door with its feather like knocks. The noise around him was fading, bluring into one collective noise. His dreams began playing along with the symphony of sounds coming from the forest. He was at peace, his mind wasn't full of humiliation, shame or otherwise, he was blissful. The stress of being sick and being heartbroken tired the poor guy out, not to mention he missed his daily nap anyway. It was about time peace and serenity found shelter in his mind.

That was until a voice rudely dragged him out of sleep, and threw his mind out into a cold snow (Despite it being summer) At least thats what it felt like to Rye. One eye broke open his seal to stare down the invader, scrutiny etched into his pupils; but then forgiveness slipped through as he recognized the wolf. What seemed like forever ago became a current memory, it was When. When? Wren? Waren? Son of a -- he couldn't remember but it was a nice face to see. He remembered she was from a sister pack, well back when he was with Redhawks (or Frosthawks now). AG was a sister pack of Redhawks, so by extension did that make it a distant sister pack of Firebirds? The semantics didn't matter, it was a pleasant sight to see a friendly wolf.

"You know, they say its unwise to poke the sleeping bear." He grinned and hauled himself up from his position. Even with everything going on, his jokes were still there. Guess you can't keep a good dog down.