Redsand Canyon Creatures of the Night

Donovan is having his own dreams. Ones much more lax than Nyra’s own. His consist of his childhood. When the strong form of his father took him hunting, when he taught him how to fight. His father was a huge black wolf, yellow eyes, scars all over. His mother smaller than he, curled tail, brindle, reddish-brown eyes. He thinks of them lovingly as his pup self bounces around their legs excitedly. He could only be about three months of age in this dream. It’s vague too, just flashes of odd random memories of his parents — of his old pack.

A scream sounds in the distance. It doesn’t stir the sleeping male. Though when the polar wolf comes closer to his den, his fur bristles in a way that causes him to stir from his slumber. The feeling of a presence has awoken him. Canary hues blinking the sleep out of his eyes he’s standing swiftly, trying his hardest not to seem disoriented by the sudden presence looming in front of his cavern. 

Finally when he blinks enough sleep from his confused eyes, he’s recognizing that large form and sugary white pelt — Nyra has come to pay him a visit it seems. He’s not angered by her presence, rather comforted that he knows it isn’t some random wolf.

He gives a small smile and a dip of his chin in acknowledgment. “Nyra.” He greets lowly, voice deep with the traces of a deep sleep. “Whatcha need?” He asks softly even though the words aren’t really so. He means well and is only curious. Though he can feel something unsettling along with her presence. “Everything okay, dear?”