Wheeling Gull Isle screaming meemies

Caracal didn’t know the first thing about REM cycles. His sleep was often brief and/or disrupted and he couldn’t be sure if he was actually dreaming more often or if he was only remembering them more these days. Some of them were redundant—like the ones about losing his teeth—but he hadn’t dreamed of her since shortly after his stay in The Lion’s Den.

“I’ve been reading about people who think we live in a simulation,” his writer told him. “Did you know you live in a simulation, Cackle?”

The fuck is a sim— Caracal started to ask, only to jerk awake suddenly when one of the den’s residents whimpered. —ulation? he finished groggily, sitting up and blinking around the dark den.

He felt a small kick and looked down, squinting in the gloom as he tried to discern which youngster was evidently having a nightmare.

Maybe one of the newer babs? :)