@Bishop ;; Night, clear sky, 32F
Kjell did not have nightmares often, but phenomenon was not completely foreign to him. Occasionally, his near death experience filtered through his subconscious to hunt him – he could almost feel the blood bubbling against his torn flesh and matting his dark fur – but that had been years ago, and the vision came to him less and less frequently. Other times, they were the nightmares of an average wolf; he was trapped in the unrelenting winter of a world like Jotunheim or he was cursed to chase a deer for all eternity. It was tiring, perhaps, left him groggy the next morning, but rarely did it bother the male enough to actually recall the dreams the next day.
On this particular night, however, the dragon prince was left twitching in his sleep. His little paws twitched as if he were running, his tail sweeping awkwardly against the ground. Tiny whimpers and grunts escaped the male as he shuddered and moved – it’d be quite the aggravation, if someone else was trying to sleep.
The swarthy male awoke with a shout, flipping onto his belly with wide eyes as he panted. “Bishop!” he gasped, turning to his side – his companion was not in their shared den. On a normal night, he’d not find it that odd if the woman had wandered off for space or air, but only moments ago he’d seen her dead, laid flat against the ground in his place as Kjors hovered above her body, her chest and throat ripped open. Sucking in a sharp breath, the man scrambled to his feet, knocking his head on the roof of the badger sett as he surged out of the opening, swinging his head about wildly. “Bishop!?” he shouted again, searching for any sign of his companion. “Bishop!”