Hoshor Plains We'll find a way to offer up the night tonight

It was cold when he woke snuggled up to mom, but his bad dream had forced him from her warmth and out into the brisk, foggy night. His dream was recurring; he was stuck in the middle of a vast ocean, unable to see anything around him but the blue of the sea. The waves crashed at the single rock he was perched upon and the level of the water slowly rose until it finally engulfed him. That was when he always woke up, heart racing and breaths coming out in soft pants. He could never return to sleep after. The dreams had started after the day he had gotten separated from his mother and nearly drowned in the flood. Thankfully, mom had found him in time, but the effects of his near death experience were long lasting. 

Tonight, he wandered along the quiet plains, admiring the way the fog changed everything. Occasionally, flashes of his nightmare would assault his thoughts, and he would pause his steps and close his eyes tight until the the picture went away. This continued for a while until he found the place he had buried his current stick. He was on his third one. He liked finding long think branches and chewing them down until they were nothing. It gave him a place to channel his anxious energy. When he reached the base of the tree, Acheron looked around a few times to make sure no one was around and then set to work digging. He had hidden his obsession deep, and he had to dig for a few minutes before he felt his paws scrape against it. He moved a little more dirt until he could grasp the branch between his teeth, and then he drug it from the hole, dropping it a few feet away before lying down to work on it some more.