Redsand Canyon Creatures of the Night

The titaness slept soundly. But, only for so long. 
Her dreams soon swelled with the voice of Valette, the news Nanook had died, among others, back in Easthollow. 
Nyra whimpered and twitched in her sleep as she imagined the cougar attack, the blood, the loss of life. 

The snowy woman's dream turned darker, seeing Nanook's lifeless face and carnage all around. She saw lives needlessly lost. 
Nyra looked down at her paws, only to see crimson painting her fur, and in a puddle of blood at her feet, her reflection was that of her face - jaws stained with blood. Fiery eyes wild and feral. 

"NO!!" With a panicked shriek, Nyra lunged from her place on the ground, standing with puffed out fur and raised hackles, eyes frantically looking around her den as she tried to regain a sense of reality. 

Panting heavily, she reluctantly smoothed her fur and crawled out of the small cavern in the ground she had made her own, looking around Warriors Heart, seeing the stones and the stream illuminated with moonlight. 
"Only a dream..." Nyra sighed, half with relief, the rest with sadness. The massive woman slowly pulled herself to the stream that cut through the middle of the main densite and took a drink, hoping the water would help calm her nerves. 

She eventually turned her head and looked to the den of @Donovan Azura , the cavern mouth above ground level. 

The snowy titan decided firmly in her mind that she would fight. Fight for those she cared about, those she grew to love - for their lives. 
And her own.

Donovan is having his own dreams. Ones much more lax than Nyra’s own. His consist of his childhood. When the strong form of his father took him hunting, when he taught him how to fight. His father was a huge black wolf, yellow eyes, scars all over. His mother smaller than he, curled tail, brindle, reddish-brown eyes. He thinks of them lovingly as his pup self bounces around their legs excitedly. He could only be about three months of age in this dream. It’s vague too, just flashes of odd random memories of his parents — of his old pack.

A scream sounds in the distance. It doesn’t stir the sleeping male. Though when the polar wolf comes closer to his den, his fur bristles in a way that causes him to stir from his slumber. The feeling of a presence has awoken him. Canary hues blinking the sleep out of his eyes he’s standing swiftly, trying his hardest not to seem disoriented by the sudden presence looming in front of his cavern. 

Finally when he blinks enough sleep from his confused eyes, he’s recognizing that large form and sugary white pelt — Nyra has come to pay him a visit it seems. He’s not angered by her presence, rather comforted that he knows it isn’t some random wolf.

He gives a small smile and a dip of his chin in acknowledgment. “Nyra.” He greets lowly, voice deep with the traces of a deep sleep. “Whatcha need?” He asks softly even though the words aren’t really so. He means well and is only curious. Though he can feel something unsettling along with her presence. “Everything okay, dear?” 

"Bad dream." The she-wolf murmured, sitting down with exhaustion just inside the mouth of his den. 
"A really bad dream..." Her ears flattened against her head. She felt like a pup coming to another for comfort like this. It had been almost three years since she ran from the destroyed pack she had once belonged to. It had been years since she knew, for sure, she could rely on others for support. 
Even now, she was unsure of doing so. 
"Just scared me is all. Nothing major." She chuckled lightly, trying to mask the distrubance she felt. As if it was nothing. 
It... had to be nothing. She wasn't used to being able to lean on others anymore, and this fact kept hitting itself against her heart every time she considered asking if she could spill her troubles. 
The thought was present in her fire-gold eyes, even if the words weren't spoken.

Bad dream. She admits. Donovan finds it interesting that while he was galavanting about his dream world as a pup annoying his long dead parents, Nyra was screaming in her sleep and reliving new or unknown terrors. Interesting the dream world is. Tonight was his lucky night, but no so much hers. 

He doesn’t judge her for wanting to speak with someone about it. He’s curious as to why she came to him though. He supposes this is what he wants. He wants his pack to trust him, to want to fight for him. He would do the same for them. 

So his golden hues flick over her own and he smiles, padding out to sit only a couple inches away from her. He lowers his haunches into a lazy sit, where his hind legs are more out to the side and he’s resting on his thigh more than anything. Now he turns his massive head in her direction a questioning gaze in his eyes. It’s soft though, inviting her to speak to him about anything she needs. 

“Tell me about it.” He hums lowly. “Unless you don’t want to. I’m here to make you feel better, dear.”

Tentatively, Nyra recounted the carnage in her dreamscape to him, expressing an unsettled disturbance in her mind as she admitted "I couldn't face the members of Easthollow again knowing Nanook, my mentor, had died while I was gone." 
A tear rolled down her cheek and she lowered her massive head,

He looks out into the starry night sky. Eyes then shift to ease over the dark and very much dangerous canyon. He can see the flooded pools of red, muddy water from here. Finally he stops his gaze to look at the white wolf the sits beside him. Clearly irked by the death of her mentor. He even catches the tear that streams down her face and bravely comes in to lap up the rolling liquid with his tongue.

“I’ve been there before too.” He offers a part of himself in return. “You can sleep in my den tonight if you so wish.” Comes his next offer. Almost hesitant in his asking.

Nyra exhaled slowly, nodding at first with zero verbal response. 
After a moment she looked at the Grandmaster again "What happened?" She inquired softly about his past, his small offering of self, "There must've been wolves you cared about before all of us...what happened to them?" 
She wanted to get to know him better, and did, very much, care to listen. It showed in her attentive but ever-fiery gaze. 
Nyra would be willing to share more of her own history in exchange. It seemed only fair, if he engaged the question.

She’s turning the subject on him. Not maliciously; he can tell she’s genuinely curious. He will indulge her since she’s not feeling her best. It’s the least he can do. So he nods to her in a silent agreement to share his past.

His eyes break off from her own and he allows them to dance along the stars. “I was born into a violent pack run by my wolf father and my dog mother. The Saints. We went to war, fought and killed many. I grew up doing the same. My father guiding me every step of the way.” He signs then, shaking his head like he can’t believe himself back then. “I had my first love, another dog. She betrayed us and lead humans to our pack. They killed every single one us except me. She was pregnant with my pups too.” He shrugs then. “I couldn’t do shit a bout it and they knocked me out. I woke up here.” He ends finally and gazes back to her. His voice isn’t as sad as it is type of tone that says Hey, what can you do? He can’t change it after all.

"That's awful..." Nyra murmured in response. 
"To leave you with nothing to build on is almost worse than if they had killed you, in my opinion..." 
She curled her tail to her body and sighed "I would know, really. Like you, I...wasn't born here. I come from a pack far to the south of these wilds. My grandmother was the Alpha of said pack. We were called the Direfangs. My parents were her Betas, and were set to take her place once she died. I would've been the princess, then." She herself looked up at the stars as she continued, "We were wiped out by a terrible disease, and the remaining wolves were killed by a neighboring clan that took the advantage of our sickness and decided to invade...the invading pack, they only gave me the chance to flee because they had respect for my grandmother. Otherwise, I'm sure I would've been slaughtered as well." Nyra lied down and rested her head on her paws, "As was likely obvious, I ended up fleeing. Wound up here." 
She shrugged her shoulders a little and watched the muddy water puddled around on the stony ground. She seemed a little sad, but it was apparent she was grateful she had been allowed the chance to live, the chance to end up here, wih the Saints.

He listens in rueful awe of the happening of her pack. Her previous pack — much like his — were killed. Though partly in cold blood and partly by disease. He honestly wishes his pack had died of diseases rather than whatever fucked up show the humans put on for him. His eyes widen slightly as she mentions being a princess. Or she would’ve been at least.

He looks to her, eyes displaying genuine emotion. “I’m glad you’re with us. Although I do wish, as I’m sure you do, that your pack never went through that. Mine had the same fate. I suppose if something had been different we’d have never met. Or perhaps would’ve met in different circumstances.” He says absentmindedly.

He would’ve been the pack coming in to clean up whatever the disease left. The cleanup crew: open 24/7. He almost feels bad but then he remembers how satisfying it is seeing his enemies crumbling beneath him. They’re different, but Nyra is adapting to his lifestyle well.

"I'm filled with so much guilt, rage, and hatred. It feels so undirected, aimless but thirsty for carnage all the same. Maybe that's why my dreams are so dark..." Nyra slants her ears back and let out a soft whimper. 
She was afraid of the massive hellfire in her heart. Maybe one day she would use it as a weapon, but for now, it was like chains,

Donovan has to stop himself from tearing his face open in a menacing grin as she tells him this. He’s so proud, excited for her to shed her skins. Just as Renard has, she will too. She will become stronger in her decision to just let go. Accept the fire within her, wield it as a power, but not to let it consume her. Or perhaps he wants it to consume her. Oh it would be a treat to watch. 

Still as her whine meet his auds and cause them to swivel towards her, he smiles down at the bashful shewolf. “Darling,” he hums to get her attention. If she looks back to him she would meet intense, heated eyes that rival the sun. “Let it out. Bestow the gift of death and destruction upon our enemies. Save the niceties for our pack and our allies alone. You’re a Saint, a warrior, you’re strong and capable. Use your rage and hate to benefit you. It will enlighten you in the end. Free you as I have been freed.” His eyes become more relaxed and he even flutters them closed for a moment and jokingly rolls his eyes pleasurably. “I’ve never felt such freedom in my life and it’s exhilarating. I will help you, Nyra.” He hums softly roll her. He swears by it

Nyra listened to the Grandmaster's words, uncertainty littering her gaze as he told her to just let go, to become a bringer of death and destruction, save the niceties for the pack and its allies only. 
It would free her, and he'd help her, he said. 

"Alright..." The Titaness agreed after a long pause. 
She would burn bright, flames taller than mountains. Destructive and blazing like a massive forest fire.
She would be a hound of hell on earth.

Donovan can tell she is still unsure, or perhaps just nervous. He will reassure her and guide her in the process of finding her true self. He’s unafraid of what she will become because he know it will be a grand difference. A welcomed one. She will become a harbinger of death — a force to be reckoned with. He has confidence in the female. He knew he something special in her when he met her in the cave. 

He smiles to her, softly this time. “You will do good. I’ll guide you. You’ll do great.” He hums softly as if he wasn’t convincing her to kill other wolves with little to no mercy.

With a tired but compliant stare, Nyra gave a firm nod. 
"We should continue my training in the morning." She commented, followed shortly by a yawn. She was still a little scared, but that fear would soon dissipate as she became more and more ruthless. 
"Thank you, Donovan." She murmured, resting her head on her paws, closing her eyes to go back to sleep until daylight breaks.

He hums softly to her, standing back up he’s nudges her softly with a leathery nose. His snout pressing to the crown of her head briefly and he’s turning around to pad back into his den where it’s mostly dry. Or at least dryer than outside is. 

He’s gazing over his shoulder to give her an inviting look. An offer to sleep in his den. Hell they curled up to each other the first time they met. What would make it so different now?

The she-wolf roused briefly to follow him back into his den, where she curled up on the stony ground and began to fall back asleep. There was little difference between the first time they had met and now, save for the growing bloodthirst that would show itself in due time. 
For now though, she needed sleep.

Nyra following him easily. He’s glad she does. Even better, she makes herself at home right as she comes in, earning a soft chuckle from him and he’s flipping down beside her to curl around the large shewolf. She’s physically and mentally powerful, she just needs more training. And training he will give her.

For now, he’ll see himself to the dreamworld. A place he cannot distinguish from reality or something else until he wakes up. Tonight he’ll dream.