Martin
It was a massive effort for the mouse to drag himself back to consciousness. Every nerve and synapse in his mouse body told him to lie there and fall back asleep, until everything stopped hurting. But he fought that urge, knowing that if he was feeling like this something might have (and probably had) gone wrong, and that he needed to get up before things got worse. He rolled over, the feeling of cold, fresh snow against his paws. Head pounding, he managed to get up onto one knee and open his bloodshot eyes.
Oddly, the scene around him was very reminiscent of his home of Mossflower woods. The same tall trees, the distant sound of a flowing river, chirping birds...but something didn't feel right. This forest was darker, somehow. And not just because of the skies overhead. Light seemed to stop just above the treetops, casting long shadows over the frozen ground and foliage. A damp chill settled in the air, making him shiver and rub his arms as Martin managed to stand, albeit somewhat shakily. He looked himself over for any obvious injuries and found none, though for some inexplicable reason he felt as if an entire band of bandits had beat him to a pulp. As that thought crossed his mind he panicked briefly and reached towards his sword belt, breathing a sigh of relief. The sword was still there, the same one his father had given him years ago. "Now then..." He muttered to himself, "What to do now..."
There were no obvious paths through the thick woods. In the distance he could make out what appeared to be a range of mountains, but they were much too far to be of any help. The only other distinguishing feature he could pick out was the distant sound of a river, barely audible. "Well..." He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose that's as good as any places to go." Making sure the sword was secure inside it's sheath, he adjusted the red bandanna around his neck and set off into the snowy woods, entirely unsure of what lay ahead.