Luneshale Pass pantano

The night had been long, and frightening, and miserably cold, and when the big wolves came to jeer at him he made himself small as he could and watched them with stifled terror, locked behind a tongue too inexperienced to reason with them. Not that it would've made a difference if he could, anyways.

A grotesque one had been stalking him all morning. Nokht wondered silently what had happened to his face. 

Same as the beast who grabbed him, all he saw in those pools of ichor was malice. Even snakes gave warning before they attacked. These wolves did not. Every second was tense, it took all his composure to keep his breath from quivering. Nothing was safe, not even crying. 

Something had changed in a moment, it must've because before he'd had much opportunity to wake, he was yanked from his cold prison and hung from the same jaws that had swept him up, and there it was again.

Icy. Crushing.

The air is filled with snarls and he cannot see the commotion beyond the fog at the side of his vision. One moment released, the next he is met with teeth again. He squeals and shakes each time.

He wished he had never left his bed that morning.