Finn was having a really nice dream. It wasn't anything special or exciting. It was an old memory of the inn he grew up in, happening just after his first hunt.
He was only around 5 years old at the time, though it was something he took as a given because many kids from the villages started heading to the forest at around the same age, too.
Anyway, they were celebrating his first successful hunt by eating what he had captured (by setting up a trap his father helped him with, though at the time he thought he did everything).
His heart was warm and his stomach was full, very cozy—
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"Urrghhh…" he mumbled, rubbing his head on the soft pillow in annoyance. Still, he didn't feel like sitting up yet, so he didn't. He did, however, try to stretch some of the lethargy away.
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"!!!"
He shot up, blinking.
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