Blackfeather Woods It's not like you're unpredictable

Her mouth opened in a scream, but the darkness swallowed it as if she were in some airless void—a black hole. She still felt that icy touch at the nape of her neck, pressing and causing her skin to crawl. In the real world, she mewled in her drugged sleep, twitching feebly.

Then the toxins must have dragged her to the deepest of sleeps because the nightmare vanished into the ether. Wildfire sighed, then fell almost deathly still. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of her flanks as she drew in shallow breaths.