Wapun Meadow Waking Up to the Unknown

Behind fluttering eyelids, the mountainous man dreams of his last memory. His teeth bared, the hairs along his spine bristled, multicolored eyes set open the monster he dares to face. It’s a wolf twice his size, one who has a cold, black pelt and eyes pure white of a ghost. Yes, Cross was there to fight and kill the beat that plagued the people native to the land.Or that’s as what he was supposed to do.

His eyes shoot open, he’s lying on his side, the only things in his vision seem to be the tall grass that surrounds him. His face scrunches up at the pulsing headache that aches through his skull. Finally he sits up to lean against his elbow. Hues sliding along the horizon he sees no monsters or demons. The land before him is tranquil, flicking ears can only hear talkative birds and the chirp of bugs. The meadow he’s found himself in is budding with flowers in the early spring. It’s truly confusing.

Making his way to his feet he shakes himself off and tucks his chin to look at himself, swaying from side to side; there’s no stains of crimson like there was when he last remembered. What the hell happened? He wonders internally as he attempts to take a step but falters when his mind feels like it’s imploding due to the headache that strikes him. Before he knows it he finds himself on his side once more and eyes fitfully, fluttering closed. He’s passed out once again.