[ P ] Burning Nightmares

The nights were growing cold. Yet in his dreams he was burning up. Where his pale form could be spied coiled up in slumber among the rubble of old architecture, all Isen could see in his mind's eye was flame. Blood and ash. The smell of the woods and wolf alike as it all went up in smoke. He could see the destruction - feel the heat - hear the screams! The sleeping giant flinched in his reverie while his mind fought to change the outcome of an event that had long passed. Even as the echoes of long gone comrades begged for help he could do nothing but choke on the ash. It stuck in his throat and burned his skin so vividly that the hell playing through his dreams jolted him into waking.

With a frightful start and a quickness one of his stature should not really be able to achieve - the ice wolf was on his feet before he truly had time to process what was happening. The brilliant burning fires were not here. What was laid out before him was a quiet, calm, cool evening where the moon hung in full and a gentle breeze touched his pelt. The smell of the old stones and moss helped to wash out the memory of ash clouding his throat, but he coughed anyway. The tension melted away from his aging bones slowly. Just as slowly as he made his way out of the gap made when a wall had fallen some time ago. The grass was crisp beneath his feet upon his approach to a shallow stream he’d found earlier that evening.

Large paws left deep imprints in the mud where he paused to drink. The water was always a welcome feeling these days. Those burning nightmares were more frequent than Isen would like to admit, even less the fact that he would not truly feel relief until the sun rose the next morning. Choking back his ills he assumed sleep any further this evening would not come to pass. Regardless, he moved to lay among the grass and watch the stream for a time. Even if he could not sleep he could at least reflect on things and come up with a better plan than aimlessly wandering about in search of her. Besides, the wolves of this place seemed keen to sleep at night. Even now, as he forced thoughts of going back into the more populated parts of the woods to talk with the citizens of Rionna, Isen couldn’t quite shake the feeling. The dread. The idea that he would not find her here. That his time would be better served diving to the sea floor instead.

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(This post was last modified: 09-26-2024, 05:03 AM by Isen.)

On the outskirts of the city proper, though not precisely out of the sightline of Castle Stuart itself, few wolves chose to make these ruins their home. And yet, the newly appointed Colonel had recently made it paramount that scouting parties were to survey this area every so often. It was a matter of security, as Falltore saw it. Some had had the idea to avoid this area, to spend no time on ghosts and shadows. But, came the Colonel’s reply, this was quite often where wolves who wished to do their business out of sight, away from prying eyes, would flock. Though, Falltore had only wished that the sweeps themselves had had any form of success. Eight individual sorties were conducted on average every two days, a moderate sum for such a quiet location; yet, not one of these patrols had ever returned with anything of value. How disappointing, was his first thought, and yet… perhaps those that were assigned had fallen prey to the same assumption as those who sought to dismiss the idea. The scarred soldier would not be so easily led astray.

Prowling silently in the darkness, it did not take long for Falltore to come upon a scent, leading his way to a dilapidated structure. Someone had been here recently… quite recently. Behind the patchwork of leaves and salves that in many ways held his muzzle together, the soldier’s orange-tinted eyes scanned the structure, yet found no occupants. How strange, he thought to himself, as he detected a scent trail leading away from the ruins, in the direction of a brook. Of course, there was no law prohibiting the use of this space, no royal decree that protected it from inhabitation. After all, it being so far from the main spur of the community, who would decide to live here, of all places, when there was no shortage of better, more appropriate dens? That is… unless, someone didn’t want to be found. Oh, now the hunt was on, indeed.

It was not long before the hunt came to its rather anticlimactic end, as a series of paw-prints in the gravelly, sandy mud led the way to the source of this chase, a quite large, arctic wolf, prone in the grass, idly watching the stream. Pensive in the middle of the night, all alone, where he ought not belong? Oh… it would appear that this wolf was anything but local, sticking out like a broken toe on a paw. Did Rionnach prove to be so overwhelming to him, he wondered? Was this foreigner unsure of where to conduct his business, whatever it might be? Even if foreigners were, for the moment, still welcomed into the Imperial domain… whatever might happen between the two of them here, had no witnesses whatsoever. No longer desiring to play the part of the stealthy predator, the disfigured Colonel decided to make his presence quite obvious as he approached, a low, rumbling growl in his throat. “And what, pray tell, might you be doing here,” a smooth, almost inviting voice rang out, as the large soldier continued to approach.

The white wolf was prepared to spend the rest of the night alone with his thoughts. A prospect that recently didn’t sit very well with him. The minor distractions of at least wandering and enjoying the scenery was enough to calm his nerves in most cases, yet that options was void for now. The patrols of the more populated areas continued into the night and so far as Isen had seen the officers of the land didn’t like it so much when strangers were wandering around aimlessly in the middle of the night. No, it seemed more or less the better option was to simply sit here and focus on the stream until the morning.

His quiet contemplation did go on for a short time until something in the wind made Isen’s ears flicker. The forest smelled of water, moss, grass, vaguely of the animals that had passed through - but not rotten wood. The decay of a tree and the fungus that inhabited them had not been present when he first arrived and now was quite clearly and suddenly filling his nares. Something was about in the woods and the Vanguard need not wait long to lay eyes on it. A large male came strolling out of the tree line with a growl. Isen made no attempt to move right away but became quite aware of the fact that the distance between them was being eliminated steadily with the approach of the stranger. Well built and younger with a coat composed mainly of beige and cream, he didn’t stand out so much in this wooded region as much as Isen did. More than the stranger’s build or colors Isen noticed the leaves stuck to his face, hiding what was quite clearly a large network of scars across the better portion of his face.

Turquoise eyes were glaring at Isen in a way that put him immediately on guard, but experience told him to play it cool until the other gave him a reason to become aggressive. Without stopping the scarred male asked what Isen was doing out here. Dangerous jaws splayed quite white, revealing his tainted ivories in a long - drawn out yawn before rising to sit upon his haunches. ”Not sleeping, unfortunately.” Isen offered, his tone even and not unfriendly. In fact a small smirk made its way to the pale wolf’s features before offering the other a more formal nod of his great head. ”I see I’m not the only one that it escapes. What brings you out soldier?” It was just the way he moved. After so many years of trained discipline, in so many places Isen had traveled, he found a military man rarely changed and they all walked a certain way.

table by hybrid