Nanshe knew it by the scent, by the feel, but mostly by the peeling paint on the wall that greeted her when she opened her eyes. This was her London flat, or at least, it had been before she'd been somehow overpowered by aliens and abducted from Earth to go traveling the stars.
There had always been other worlds. But none of those worlds had ever been Nanshe's to tend to. She didn't know why she'd been returned, and she frankly didn't care. She was home, unless this was some elaborate prank, and she was grateful for it.
Rolling from where she'd been lying - on the floor, it seemed - she got to her feet and walked around the familiar flat. She'd missed it. She'd missed it terribly. But she wondered if she was alone here. She wondered if Morpheus was still in the grasp of those interstellar creatures.
"Dream," she whispered, barely able to get the summons out past her lips. She knew that this was the moment when hope could flourish or die. She wanted one thing; she feared the other.
But nothing would tell her but time. She waited, standing in the center of her small living area, the dim London sun shining through the cracked plastic blinds.