Lion Head Mesa hazelnut dreams

The winter season came, and with it, Haizel slept less. 

When he did, he began to dream of things other than flower-field frolicking. He dreamed of rivers and his own nightmares, of flowers wilting. He dreamed of snakes, but they weren't there to harm his delicate blooms. No, they spoke to the deer-pelted man as if they were whispering into his sleeping ears. Renenutet, the snake whispered, touching her head to a wilted flower and it was given life once more before his very eyes. The man didn't know what that meant.

Haizel often wandered in his dreams, on the back of an animal he didn't recognize. It was far too large to be a regular lizard, longer than a wolf in length, and seemed to be as big as the whole of the land of red sand, if not bigger. Every pawstep felt like hardened stone, a hill to be climbed over as he traversed to the top of a ridge. Its snout was larger than the dreaming wolf, and he stood upon it as if it were a dune, eyes unyielding and yet not unkind. 

But Haizel... found this all rather weird.

WHAt was that-? he stirred, shaking his head. He was back home, in his chamber, surrounded by flowers. It was okay, he was safe. 

No big lizards here.