Acknowledgements: I would like to thank Lady Nightwisp, mudstalker, Dragea, and PoochyPOWAH for all of your reviews! It's great to know people are out there, reading this! Also, thanks for adding me or this story to your favorites or watch lists; it's an honor. Thanks also go to all of my readers, even if you don't review or any of that. You're an inspiration.

As the battle faded around Hawkeye, he grabbed at the suffocating presence in his mouth. He stared in shock at what it was.

A pillow?

He sat up and looked around. Frank was glaring at him, and Trapper was staring worriedly.

"You alright, Hawk?"

Hawkeye faced Frank. "Did you throw that pillow? You could have suffocated me!" He stopped. If it weren't for that, though, I wouldn't have come back… Wait, what am I talking about, of course I would have, eventually! It was just a dream.

"Hawkeye, you're bleeding!" Trapper exclaimed, rushing over. "What's wrong with you? Making all sorts of racket in your sleep a few moments ago, and now you're bleeding!"

Hawkeye glanced down. His side was covered in blood… the same side the RiverClan warrior had clawed. But… it was a dream! Wasn't it?

"Come on, Hawk. Let's go to the supply room. There's some bandages and disinfectant there."

He dazedly followed Trapper out of their tent. What the hell just happened to me? Did I really go there? In my sleep? Did all that time in the forest only take one night here?

When they reached the supply room and began to treat his wounds, Hawkeye's suspicions were confirmed. Long scratches ran down his side.

"Geez, Hawk, fighting bears in your bed?"

"…Not exactly."

Trapper gave him a strange look, but said nothing.

Later that day, Trapper and Hawkeye were in the mess tent, for dinner. It had been a quiet day, for the most part.

"Ready for a Thanksgiving feast from World War II surplus?" Trapper commented, rolling his eyes.

Hawkeye murmured a noncommittal reply. Better than a dead mouse lying on the ground. I don't think I'd ever get used to that.

With a rush of affection, Hawkeye noticed Belle entering the tent. She came over to the table a few moments later with her food.

"Hello, lovely!" Hawkeye tried his best to sound cheerful.

"Hey, Hawkeye. Hi, Trapper." She lowered her voice. "Well, Hawkeye, here it is. Thanksgiving dinner. Did you think of something?"

Dozens of images and memories flashed through Hawkeye's mind: Foxpaw's death, Ravenwing's and Smokepaw's sadness, the hatred he had received from some of the cats, the truly disgusting food, the life of battling and bloodshed, the prejudice within the Clan, and his own despair at losing Trapper and Belle. Then he looked around at the people around him. Henry and Radar had arrived, and Trapper was harassing Radar, affectionately of course. Frank and Margaret were silently fuming at the sight of Klinger's outfit today, a black blouse, red plaid skirt, and a matching purse. Hawkeye chuckled to himself as he watched Klinger eagerly showing Father Mulcahy the newest fall fashions in the catalog he had received in the mail the other day. The timid Father looked completely overwhelmed. Hawkeye turned back to Belle, the girl who had captured his heart all those months ago.

"I think I could name a few, actually."