2. Nightmares

The second chapter in Watcher of the Wolves.

Marrok shivered violently as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He flung open his eyes, forgetting the dream he had faced moments ago.

The moon’s silver light shone through the narrow den entrance like the beam of a lighthouse against the shining snow. He blinked back at it

wearily and wished that he had found a better den- to the eyes and the mind. His deep blue eyes burned because of the moon’s full glare in his face and he couldn’t concentrate on sleep for some reason tonight. Besides, this one was cramped.

            But it was all he could find. A small, cooped up fox den that had been abandoned when the fox had her puppies and the den grew too small. The scents told him that all. Hollowing it out had sapped up much of his strength, and the closest to prey he could find was a sick squirrel which had caused him another vomiting fit.

            At least whatever sickness the squirrel had was gone in another green spew, Morrak thought regretfully. He would rather that then having to face a long, painful Sick like Lyall had done right before she died.

The only problem was that his stomach ached for more prey like a mother aches for her cubs. It was like the longing for a pack, to find a mate and raise young with pride and power. It was like the bloodlust of battle, but slightly smaller and more restrained. It was hunger.

Marrok shifted position and groaned as his belly painfully rumbled like a roll of muffled thunder. He attempted to lie down and sleep yet again, but it was difficult. His mind was haunted with hunger and the thin bones that were now supposed to make up his once handsome build. His blue eyes were wary.

He turned his thoughts toward them for a moment. No other wolf’s eyes had been blue. It was only pups that had blue eyes. Yet he had them. So had his mother. It was odd, but he had never questioned it before.

            Marrok finally felt himself fall down and sleep, dreaming deeply. It wasn’t the most peaceful he had been through, but at least he was blocked out from the world he hated. Marrok thought against that when he saw his dreams. Only one word could describe them.

            Disturbing.

            At least that was the simple way to put it. They were pleasant at first, like a butterfly dancing across a meadow of flowers, but then the world that his dreams had woven together shattered like glass and erupted in flames.

            He was in a beautiful valley beside a crystal clear waterfall as pure as the sun’s ultraviolet rays. Marrok felt the stench and dirt cleansed from his fur, and he was now glossy silver with strength like he had the power to fly over the darkest trenches of a canyon. His mother, Lyall, stood beside him. Her beautiful eyes were a deep blue. They had always been like that for some reason, just like his. Marrok never understood why, but that didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t like he remembered her, either. Lyall had been a ragged, brownish color from lack of grooming at all the times writhing in the mud as she had done when she got the Sick. But Lyall had changed. Her eyes- he noticed again- weren’t wild and small like when she was sick. Now, they were open kindly and soft as a cloud. Not only her eyes, but her body and health had been completely rejuvenated. Her beautiful white coat and handsome head gleamed like the way he remembered her before she caught the Sick. Altogether, she was amazing.

            Lyall started to run, gracefully bounding over the soft, lush green grass. Marrok itched to follow her, so he did. He let out a short bark of joy and bounded after her. His own stride soon matched her’s as mother and son ran side by side towards the silver waterfall of crystal falling off the peaks of a deep, soft brown cliff that glimmered with the sun’s rays, not unlike everything else here. The familiar wind in his face wasn’t like he remembered the powerful blows from the wind whenever they were out of the forest and in a calm, cool clearing, it was peaceful and soft. The heat of a beautiful summer beat down upon his face, not hiding its warmth, and it made Marrok sigh with pleasure. This was perfect.

            Too perfect, Marrok noticed.

            That thought changed everything as if he had physically done something to disrupt the dream. Suddenly, Lyall slammed to a stop and wheeled around, her eyes fiery and wild. She thrust her muzzle so close to his that Marrok could smell her rank breath, which was unusual because she had always had a breath that smelled of fresh meat. Around them, the scenery was changing as well. The beautiful waterfall had become a murky swamp of water falling over ragged, stained mud colored rocks. The grass was dead and sat in a muddy yellow and grew in weak patches as if contemplating where to grow. The flowers and silver buds on trees suddenly withered as a shadow of darkness passed over Marrok. The blue sky was drowned out by a thundering storm emerging like a proud newly appointed king on a chariot of the brightest silver. A once shining sun was drowned out by dark clouds, and a silver bolt of lightning struck down in the valley. Marrok let out a yelp and looked at his mother, desperate to see that nothing about her had changed. Sadly, she had- and the collapsing feeling from him showed the same results.

            A once healthy, round body of muscle had turned in to scrawny ribs with a caved in build and a foul smelling coat twisted with thorns and matted with mud- and blood. Lyall saw the same effects. Both wolves were literally shrinking to skeletons, only skin and bones. The dying of everything stopped just as it reached its worst- Lyall and Marrok had not completely decomposed, but stood there barely skin and bones.

He hoarsely tried to speak to his mother, but his voice quivered violently just like the thunderstorm raging ahead. “What- what’s happening?”

            Lyall’s beautiful eyes had turned to a threatening ocean-wave violent. Marrok could swear that she had a viper-like appearance to her once loving, graceful body. She peered deep in to him like fangs of a snake as they sunk in to you. And then she spoke, baring her teeth slightly as she went. Her voice sounded raspy and harsh, very much unlike he had ever thought her to be. Marrok wanted to force himself awake but somewhere deep inside him told him not to do it.

            He expected a calm, motherly voice to come from somewhere within her rasping tongue, but nothing like that came. She spoke just two words that would change his life forever in unexpected ways. For the good or the worst- he had no idea. But for the worst was a good guess on his part.

            “It’s coming.”

 

Author's Note

I wanted to make this scene dramatic, and sort of violent. Does it have a good effect on the book? Sorry that its so short xD But this is just a dream sequence.