He does remember the intense exhaustion that seeped from his bones to every inch of his being. Keeping his eyes open had become such a grueling task, he'd closed his eyes for just a moment, he'd swear on it, and woke up to snow. Snow and cold. Sooo cold.
Shaking sleep and ice from his thin frame Dante has made his way from beside a frozen bush, hands hardly shaking as his body temperature readjusts to the idea of 'living'. A yawn parting blue lips as he approaches the structure closest by— the Bone Bridge. A spark of familiar red catches his eye despite his sleep-addled state.
"Mo— Evie?" His voice comes out scratchier than his first month of puberty and Dante attempts to clear his throat before trying again. "Evie, is that you?"