Drugs for the pain

He had not dreamed in what felt like ages, the last on memory was when he had fallen sick. Then they had been waking nightmares. He had shifted between fevered dreams and hallucination, it had been hellish and Novocaine had been grateful when empty sleep had returned to him. Before then the last he could remember was when he had just been a pup, the scene of his mother's death playing over and over in his sleep.
The unknown forest stretched out before him, and as he blinked the sleep put of his eyes he frowned, having a hard time bringing his surroundings into focus. It was so much more than simply the missing eye, the trees seemed to have an ethereal quality to them. Novocaine stood stock still confusion furrowing his brow.