Moonstone Quarry And I pray that I'll make it before the night's up

It was late in the evening when Fleur returned to the Quarry, her restlessness finally soothed enough for her to settle. The darkest night was creeping in quickly, and her eyes were getting heavy just as fast. Reaching her den, she nosed the elk hide she kept there, adjusting it just right before lithe limbs were tucked underneath, tail curled to cover her nose.

It was with a light heart that she drifted to sleep.

Unfortunately, it was not so as she slumbered.

~~~~~

Water boiled with rage. A vast wooden vessel, with clouds on its trees, billowing as the winds screamed at it, rocking and rolling as it barely kept afloat. There was fear and anger, mingling scents from two-legged, blurred figures.

No, not just from them. From others. Like her.

A flash! Thunder boomed shortly after. The smell of burning filled the air, mingling with salt and sweat. There were screams and cries, from the strange creatures and canine alike. 

This was all too familiar, too real.

Another flash! Another boom!

She couldn't think, couldn't react fast enough.

The boom was not thunder, but the sound of wood breaking. It was the damaged tree--it's tip detaching from the rest, to fall down and shatter her world.

The floor she stood upon splintered, sending her flying, tumbling over the side and down...

down....

down...

~~~~~

She fitted in her sleep, her paws swimming, but going nowhere. A whine, warbling and broken, fell from her. A tear, only one, fell to splatter on solid ground.