Herbalists' Cache i've got a taste for blood

for @The Wayfarer, other tag for reference! backdated to 12/31

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. His eyes adjust slowly, seeing first an inky blotch staining the center of his vision — a shadow, a demon, a ghost come to haunt him until the sun rises to banish it back to the spirit world.
But the blurring of his vision fades, and he realizes it’s the silhouette of a wolf, all glowing gold and velvety midnight. Tall and a bit thinner than he ought to be, reeking of smoke and burnt flesh and fur. Under it all lurks a scent he knows as well as his own. He lurches to his feet unsteadily, swaying for a moment, and then the ground vanishes and the scene changes. He’s falling, twisting, nothing but open air around him, the ground miles below. It looks wrong, all grey-blue and rippling and blindingly bright, flashing silver freckles across the surface. The grey is rushing toward him, and he knows he's going to die and his lungs are screaming and his head feels so tight and he —
He wakes with a gasp, jerking upright so quickly his limbs ache with the sudden force of it. His heart beats fast in his ears as he flees from @Phillip’s sleeping form, hurrying to get away before the tears start. He doesn’t even notice his other companion as he settles several yards away with his head low and his tail tucked close to his body. Weak, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut as if that might stop the tears. He doesn’t even remember the dream now, but the emotions it’d inspired still linger, and it’s enough to remind him why he hates himself.