"Gort."
Gort rolled over, mumbling something incoherent. His head hurt.
"Gort. Wake up."
The voice sounded muted somehow, like it was reaching his ears after traveling through some desolate, fog-laden swamp. Which seemed fitting, given the dream he'd been having. [Scott, please insert brief dream excerpt here.]
The foggy voice began to lap wetly at the edges of Gort's consciousness... and at his... ears?
"Gort! Wake up. It's time to get moving."
He sat upright quickly. Too quickly. His head swam with pain, with half-remembered dreams, and with the awful knowledge of the carnage he had witnessed last night. Toad Killer continued to lick his face excitedly, covering Gort's cheek with a generous quantity of saliva. The dog's breath smelled, if possible, more rank than usual. Strangely, the smell made Gort hungry. How long had he been asleep, anyway? It felt like years.
Turning his head gingerly, and resisting Toad Killer's further affections, he located the source of the voice that had dragged him from his slumber.
"Oh, thank the Gods. You're okay, Cloudwalker said that your wound was superficial, but we were beginning to worry about you."
Kayla kneeled beside him, her hand resting at the edge of the makeshift pallette that lie on the hard gravely soil behind the Toothless Angel. At least that's what Gort had to assume this building was, based on the artwork crudely painted across the side of the two-story structure.
"Sorry. We would have taken you inside, but the proprietor says they have a strict 'No animals' policy." There's an embarrassed sadness in her voice that leaves Gort unsure whether the restriction applies to him, to Toad Killer, or to both.
"You must be starving. Ark's inside, getting us some breakfast. Everybody's gathering outside the Rail Station, or what's left of it. It sounds like that Julian fellow's pretty anxious to get moving, so we've got to hurry."