After the hour long or more drive, Wolfram was slowly drifting into conciousness. He mewled softly, wondering why his head and shoulder where aching so painfully, and why he couldn't decipher any words being spoken. He didn't hear any words, just muffled voices, unable to tell which was male and which female. He let out a growl of pain, and unsheathed his claws, sinking them into the thighs of whichever person that was holding him. His eyelids felt heavy, and he didn't even try to open them. His head was foggy, unable to remember what memory was real, and what was a horrifying unconscious nightmare.
