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> The young man reached up and felt along his jaw.  Deft fingers touched against a line of bone angled in a way it shouldn't be.  Teeth protruding outward, rather than lined neatly in his mouth.  A visceral jolt ran through him. The skin beneath the short, soft fur of his face was warped and twisted, causing him to jerk his hand away in reflexive horror.
> 
> Pembrook tried to wrap his mind around the sudden disfigurement, and the wild rush of panic that came with it. But a dreaming mind often wasn't a rational one.  Reality clashed with the surreal, and somewhere in that sudden spiral, the truth bled in.  
> 
> Aldra shouldn't be here.  He'd died.  Along with Pemiri.  Along with his entire clan. [i]The whole of Highmoor.[/i]
> 
> "[i][b]Wait.[/b][/i]" The word came out in a harsh, hastened slur of sound, impeded by a twisted jaw and a tongue that felt out of place.  As if to banish the these hard facts, Pembrook moved forward and reached for Aldra, to confirm with touch that his nephew was still alive and well.  Because if Aldra was real, then Pemiri would be walking up through the cellar doors any moment, to admonish the pair for horsing around and eating goods meant for the customers...
> 
> Before he could make that connection, the illusion broke.  The warm, green and brown earthen tones of the bakery faded away.  The sweet tang of honey and scent of fresh bread departed. Waking from his dream, Brook opened a pair of mismatched eyes and found himself staring at the sterile white ceiling of the recovery ward, the banks of overhead lights currently turned off in the early hours of the morning.  Instead of the inviting crackle of an oven fire, he heard the soft shuffling of feet along nearby hallways, space that was separated only by tall partition panels.  The hum of electricity was pervasive, as was the scent of cleaners and sterilizing chemicals.  
> 
> Pembrook tried to close his eyes and force his mind to shut off. He tried to reach for the dream again, so that he could see his family one more time. He wanted to ask Aldra how his magic studies were going, or share an evening meal with is parents. He wanted the chance to say [i]goodbye[/i].
> 
> With a heavy breath and a throat clenched in sorrow, Brook wiped the wetness from his face and shrugged the covers off himself.  He couldn't fall back to sleep now.  But he also couldn't just lay there and fret away the hours until sunrise again.  Without putting much thought into it, the firbolg sat up and slowly swung his legs off the edge of the bed.  He sat there for a moment, partially to gather his limited strength, and partially to make sure that Ratchet wasn't currently on duty.  When he didn't see the bright chartreuse plates of the resident CMO, Brook eased himself off the bed, found his shaky balance, and headed for the nearest route that would lead him out of the facility.