Swiftcurrent Creek Like waves of sweet fire

Something heavy taints the air, and the sprite stirs to its bitter taste on his tongue and an icy trickle of dread down his spine. The awakening is too familiar, too tiring to draw a true reaction, and he sags against the floor for a moment before the darkness registers. Different, he thinks, stirring faintly as the realization breathes a small amount of life into him. He's never woken this late before — early? He drags himself to his feet with a yawn, tense as his gaze scans the den entrance for that familiar form — but there is nothing. No dancing shadow creatures, no scuffles and whispers just beyond the threshold. The absence puzzles him in the breath before he notices another, far more significant absence. His heart leaps into his throat, tail sweeping between his legs, and for a moment he's paralyzed by the flood of emotion.
But then he's moving, limbs trembling as he steps forward so quickly — no, he's moving slowly, isn't he? A sharp breath escapes him and he presses forward, urging his body to respond despite the chill creeping up his limbs. Don't think about shadow monsters, he tells himself, immediately cursing his own stupidity for the thought; that's thinking about shadow monsters! His breath quickens, gaze trained firmly on the ground. After eight and a half years, Helios's scent finally grows stronger, like he's close, and he dares a glance up. Helios! He blurts, far louder than he'd intended, and drops to his haunches with a wheeze. Why are you — ugh! He trembles harder, struggling to control his breathing as he glares at his brother. Why are you making me feel like this, he wants to say, and: get back in the den, idiot! Instead, he wheezes.