Blackfeather Woods let darkness consume

Brows were knit into a frown as Cicero slept underneath one of Blackfeather's many trees, dreams engulfing him. He dreamt of Damien, of standing before him. Of the bloodlust that both of them had felt and how exciting it had been. In the dream, Cicero stood in front of Damien and stroked his tongue along the tip of Damien's ear. I love you. The frown on Cicero's face darkened and deepened. He nibbled the fur along Damien's shoulder in his dream, moving along his back.

Suddenly teeth flashed and blood poured from Damien's shoulder. Cicero licked the blood off his teeth while he turned to look at Damien. Teeth were bared, but not into agression — into a wicked grin, while he turned to lick his own blood off Cicero's nose. Sheogorath, was whispered into his ear.

Mismatched eyes snapped open, and the patchwork wolf jumped to his feet in response. His breathing was shallow and rapid as he stood. He looked about and saw no one. The wolf licked his teeth while he muttered under his breath, "I am Sheogorath." His eyes peered around the dark forest, the forest that Cicero had found unsuitingly dark for some time, and it was as though he was looking at the forest for the very first time, discovering everything anew.