The next day rolled in and George woke up with little to no sleep. It wasn't the first time he's had restless nights or trouble sleeping. He would force his eyes shut and imagine himself falling into the deaths of his slumber, but he never drifted.

This night wasn't any different except this time, George hadn't even bother try sleeping. Books, papers and sketch pads were scattered all over his desk with quill and ink sockets, maps and clues were pinned up on the wall in different directions, and sketches of Dream where stabbed with knives into walls, posts, and onto George's desk as the brunette slowly sat up with a groan.

The cracks and pops of his back and arms reminded him of his busy night of researching and plotting. A cheese and ham sandwich was half eaten on the plate next to him as well and George cringed at the slightly rotting smell. It wasn't really fresh in the first place..

Letting out a heavy sigh, he pulled himself out of his chair and dragged his feet into the bathroom to get washed up. His fluff brown hair was his biggest competition until he finally tamed it down to a neat enough blob and got dressed in his hunter's gear.

A set of thick and protective leather armor that would protect the majority of his vital spots, a knife strap that hugged his right thigh at easy access, and a bow strap for his weapon of choice across his back.

Grabbing a backpack, George began shoving in everything he would need. Torches, food, rope, a compass, a map of the forest and an axe. Since it was a short trip he would pack lightly. Grabbing his bundle of arrows, he hopped out of his back window. Ponk is probably patrolling at this hour.

Once the coast was clear, George bolted for the forest.

The forest never had a specific direction. One way or another, it lead to wherever you pleased; or at least it used to. After the banishment of the evil witch from the village grounds, she cursed the forest with a curse of binding. A curse that is meant to mess with your brain and sense of direction. Makes you think you've running in circles over and over, like you're banded with that one spot when really you've been walking for ages.

After months of navigating it, the hunters were able to find the trick and work around it.

Making his way past the large gates, George began searching for the small red mushrooms that would clear his confused sense of direction. He knew the paths like the back of his hand by how long he's run these dirt paths, but rule #329 of the hunting rule book stated "follow the mushrooms or wither in the clutches of the forest" and George would rather not wither just yet.

The cool air whipped against the hunter's face as he sprinted through the trees. Glancing down at his compass for the third time, the arrow pointed north. He also kept a sharp eye out for Dream like a hawk and it's prey. And as equipped as George was, he wouldn't lie and say he didn't feel like prey majority of the times he battled the vigilante.

Leaping over tree stumps and rocks as the path grew thinner and fainter, George perked and abruptly hid behind a tree when he heard rustling and several footsteps nearby. Pressing his back up against the skin blistering bark, he pulled out his bow and grabbed an arrow while balancing the bag on one shoulder.

"Hurr, we've been going in circles boss." A gruff and all too familiar voice moaned out as the crunching twigs continued to shake George's nerves. "Shut up already, we marked where we went through didn't we?" Another voice snapped making the previous voice which George bet everything belonged to a pillager, grumble.

"Hurr, you're mean boss-" The pillager yelped and howled silently in pain as George peaked around and saw him lean down to pick up his crossbow that he probably dropped after getting hit by the boss. George took that opportunity and immediately drew back his bow. Hiding in between the leaves and vines, the hunter shut an an eye, and let the arrow zip through the air.

And thump.

He watched the leader of the pillagers collapse onto the forest ground with an arrow stabbed into his bleeding eye socket and immediately ducked and escaped in between the trees as the surviving pillaged yelled out to his group in panic and frantic. "That should be good enough to distract them." George murmured to himself.

He continued through the forest, following the mushrooms and arched trees that soon gave away the fact that he was close to Dream's hideout. Usually George felt intimidated by how easy it was to find the hideout but even as a group, Dream had no issue taking them down. At least, when Dream was expecting it.

Which was George's plan of the day. Catch him by surprise and get that eye back.

Ducking behind a large bolder that blankets of moss began to coat, he peaked around ever so slightly and studied his surroundings. That's when he began to feel uneasy. His heart tightening in his chest and his grip on the bow handle grew tighter.

His eyes narrowed into small slits as he stared the area down, before he finally got up from behind the boulder and began to approach cautiously. It was way too silent.

George huffed quietly to himself and continued to advance as he refused to believe it was this easy. However he wasn't stupid enough to draw down his bow and arrow just yet.

Snap.

The hunter whipped around, ready to strike as he glared at the rustling bushes- when a cute little bunny hopped out and scurried across.

"You've got to be kidding me." He sighed heavily, slightly lowering his bow.

"Beats me, I thought it was me too." George's eyes widened as he whirled around. "Dream-"

He went to take a step back and aim his bow, only to feel something wrap around his ankle instead and send his body flipping upside-down way too quick for his breakfast to handle. His grip on the bow loosening as he shouted out a curse and tried to grab it at the last possible second. His arrows began to slide out of their pouch as well as George scrambled to catch at least one of them, before finally grabbing one by the feathery end and immediately pulled it up to him.

Ha-

The sound of clumps and rattles interrupted George's celebratory moment to see three tied coconuts swinging towards him with not enough time to stop them from knocking him out as the hunter's eyes widened.