The Sentinels Old Burns

They had found a hole to roost in but the cold bird wished to make a nest. To fill it with branches and foliage and properly pad the floor into a natural mattress. Andr lended his services, carrying in that which she pointed out and allowed her to arrange it as she pleased. Once all was in its proper place she awarded it her seal of approval and dove in. Rolling on her back and dispursing the smell of needles into the air.

He stood in the doorway, his front paws on the floor of boughs, looking down upon her with a kind smile. A face she seemed to gleam at until her eyes batted closed.

Night would be upon them soon and with his exhausted companion now asleep he imagined there would be little to do until morning. Before bedding down himself he did a quick sweep of their perimeter and marked the edges to deter any curious wildlife.

When he returned she lay nestled within. Andr laid down near the entrance, blocking a portion of the incoming draft, while also being respectful of her personal space - at least that's what he thought. Before long sleep took him as well.

- - -

A flash of light.
Flames.
Smoke.
Fallen trees.
Cracking wood.
Burning lungs.
Singed fur.
Black and white.
Cries for help.

and the heat...

A nightmare brewing in the cauldron of his mind. Bubbling up and steaming. Mind and body running hot. His newly insulated surroundings trapping it within his fur. A battle against the fire and time seeped out of his mind and through his muscles. Twitching as he slept restlessly.

Happy to skip to the morning or continue in the night if Fleurette were to wake up :)