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Dream raised from the ravine, bloody and ravaged. The remains of his right leg and a chunk of his torso are missing, the stump bleeding. Unlike George, Dreams leg got caught in a crack in the wall of the ravine. In exchange for his sanity (And his leg) Dream ripped off most of his leg and retired to a small cave, mourning Nanny Plum and George while living off of small bugs and bats. He tried to nurse the wounds he got from George and his fall, but he couldn't do much.
Snow was falling heavily as Dream dragged himself onto the flat land, his blood oozing. The snow was deep, especially for Dream who could only crawl.
"Well, well, well," A British voice sneered. "Look who it is."
Dream looked up to see his greatest enemy- Boris Johnson. The heavily bundled up politician was towering above him, grinning maliciously. Only his face was visible under his heavy layers of clothing, along with a few wisps of hair. Baring his teeth, Dream looked away, trying to crawl away as fast as possible, but with his inability to walk, the deep snow, lack of leg and previous injuries, Boris was faster.
"Ah ah ah! You're not getting off so easily." Boris sneered, standing in front of the amputee to block his way. Dream was starting to get cold now. Cold, frustrated and exhausted. He threw snow up at Boris, causing the older man to sneer, face contorting with rage.
"You're going to regret that," Boris snarled, pale eyes glimmering with anger. With a heavy snowboot, he stamped on Dreams head. "You're. Going. To. Regret. That."