Hob Gadlings First

“He was begging,” Dream said. Mud squelched all around them, but he and Death made no sound as they walked over the already bloodied field. “I heard it.” “He was begging to live, you idiot!” Death said. “How do you know?” Dream looked at Hob Gadling, kneeling before a hoard of soldiers. His hair and beard were coated in blood. “He’s writhing away from the man with the axe, not towards him!” “The specifics were unclear. His lips seem to be leaking, his words were obstructed. And there is only one logical thing to hope for in this scenario.” Death shook her head. It had barely been a decade since they’d visited the White Horse, and Dream had repeatedly pointed out — as if she could have failed to notice — that the world had only become a less appealing and more brutal place to live.A.K.A.: Dream & Death check in on Hob Gadling in the waking world at a time when things are... not going great. Not enough time has passed yet to move Dream's glacial realization that he is wrong.