Ravensblood Forest And if you long to never die

His dreams are at first subtle, not interest in the slightest. Then they became fearful, raging storms of death and gore. Things that are as familiar to him as breathing. Though when most think these dreams of carnage would scar one, they had only positive effects on the sleeping wolf-dog. Death encourages him to do better. It succeeds in twisting his already numb state of mind. He thoroughly enjoys it. Then he dreams of Simmik, the white wolf with eyes of fire. A pleasant dream a recap of their previous nights adventures and he hums happily. The thoughts of gore are temporarily ridden, but never forgotten — never satisfied.

Next thing he knows his eyes are opening. The touch of another rouses him from his horribly sweet dream, but when he opens his eyes he almost believes he’s in another one when he’s met with the strikingly white fur of Simmik’s form. The soft licks and nibbles making an easy smile come to his face as he faces her. Offering his own flat tongue to run along her face and muzzle affectionately.

“Morning, dear.” He whispers, voice deep from sleep. “It’s time to wake up then?”

He flips his body onto his side and stretches his legs out to make himself longer. Teeth gleaming wildly as he opens his mouth to yawn. Settling after his stretch, he gives one last lick to her muzzle before he stands. “Breakfast?” He asks with a quirk of his brows.