[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 400px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 2px;]THIS WORLD WE'VE CREATED, IT'S EPHEMERAL[hr][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 400px; font-size: 9pt; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px; line-spacing: 1px;][justify]Dan had no memory when he woke up, looking slightly shocked, by the RiverClan border. His tail was wet, and it was swishing to-and-fro in the depths of the water behind him when he opened up his molten-chocolate eyes groggily. He stretched, and blinked swiftly, consecutively, a few times, letting a shiver run across his relaxed form. His head was warm- and then he realised, yes, he was wearing his llama hat, wasn't he? Llamas were his favourite animal, he coudn't deny that- but he felt something cold rested atop his cranium, too. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes with one paw, and reached into the hat, only to pull out his phone; a sense of comfort washed over him, in having that item in his possession, and if one was nearby, they'd be able to hear a pleased sigh escape the chocolate-pelted feline's slightly-parted maw. Though, even with his phone and his hat, something seemed... as if it was missing. Something overwhelmingly important, that he would never leave without- in fact, not something, someone. But... but he couldn't put his metaphorical finger on it, no matter how hard he tried.
Despite these seemingly lost-forever memories, Dan could at least recognise something was... off. Something was not quite right, and that... disturbed him a little. However much he put it off, though, there was one burning question, and the Brit finally decided to pick up his lazy arse, and start interrogating. "Where the hell am I?" he murmured. Someone nearby would have recognised his British accent- he hated the way he sounded, he sounded... posh. Well, posh is what an uneducated individual might want to call him, but the tom preferred to use the word 'articulate' to describe the way he sounded.