//------------------------------// // 15415 // Story: Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot // by Equimorto //------------------------------// It was cold. A different kind of cold than the one he'd been used to, but cold nonetheless. A different kind of sleep than the one he'd been used to as well. And he was taking quite a while to wake up, that time, more so than any time before. He'd been sleeping for a while. Not the longest sleep he'd had, but still a noteworthy length. He was, however, surprised to be waking up so... Well, maybe soon wasn't the right word, but it was the word he would use, as inappropriate as it may have been. He wasn't planning to sleep too long, no, but he would have expected it to last a while longer still. He was expecting to be waken up, like the last time, rather than waking up on his own. Someone sooner or later was bound to disturb his slumber, after all. But no one was there. Not immediately. That was, at once, fascinating and deeply worrying. As he slowly, slowly opened his eyes, he could see no one there, shaking him from his torpor. Perhaps part of the reason why he was taking so long to awaken. He had no great interest in going back to the world, after all, no immediate inciting factor. And so he took things slowly, and comfortably. But he knew something was out there. Something powerful, and dangerous. Something great, shaking the world itself. That was what had woken him, it must have been so. And he was quite curious as to what exactly was happening out there. But not curious enough to speed things up. He had time, he knew he did. And he wanted to be ready. Whatever was out there, it was big. Too big for him to take, maybe too big for anyone to take alone. Things were changing. He could tell, for example, that he'd moved. He wasn't waking up where he'd last fallen asleep. Perhaps quite a good thing, as quite a bit of turmoil would have likely come had he woken up there. Yet still, it was a nuisance not to know where he was. But a nuisance he wouldn't yet be bothered by for a while still, not until he was fully awake. And that wouldn't come soon. He was tired. Tired still. The last time he'd been awake, things had taken a toll on him, and beside that soured his tastes for the world. For a while, at least, he'd have preferred to simply sleep. A lifetime or two in pony times, or even a dozen of them, he could wait it out. He'd gone for longer, far longer in the past. But something had happened. Something was still happening. Something was out there, calling for him, waking him up. And he supposed, after all, was it so bad if he got to wake up already? Whatever was out there, it promised to be something exciting. Really, he had to be honest with himself, he didn't mind the idea of being back up as much as he pretended to. It had been a while, after all.