Hollowheart Keep balance between destruction and renewal [BWP]

The area had become bone-dry from constant smoke, dripping the Ghastly Woods seeming to wither even further away than it already was, feeling barren and desolate. The air is thick with the acrid scent of charred wood, and the sun rarely manages to pierce through the thick haze that shrouds the land.

Amidst this bleak backdrop, a sudden thunderstorm materializes on the horizon. The dark, ominous clouds gather rapidly, and a symphony of thunderous roars resonates through the silent wilderness. Lightning crackles dangerously close to the ground, igniting a long-dead tree that stands as a solemn sentinel of the past.

As the tree bursts into flames, the rain starts to fall. It's a torrential downpour, relentless in its pursuit of extinguishing the fiery threat. However, the rain arrives too late to save the old tree, which succumbs to the flames. But it's not the end; the rain quells the spreading fire, leaving behind a trail of charred, smoldering trees.

All welcome!

The leader was not sure what he was doing in this part of the woods, it had always given him the creeps and he normally tried to avoid it. It felt prickly, like eyes were watching him from the trees but every time he looked there was nobody there. It had been years since he had come here and as soon as his paws stepped back within the territory he remembered why. But, the smell of smoke had been extra thick today and he knew he needed to scout the area to make sure it had not moved upon them.

Viorel had followed his nose unwittingly into an area that had once held a pack long ago, though signs of life were long gone. When the storm had come out of seemingly nowhere, he had ducked into the long abandoned pack den for safety. He had been thankful for the pouring rain, hoping it would settle the smoke and put out any fires but that feeling of relief had quickly faded.

The world flashed white and was immediately followed by the loudest sound the wolf had ever heard. Flinching away from the entrance of the den, his salt and pepper ears pressed firmly against his skull in discomfort and a shocked whine escaped him. The smoke became thicker, putrid and Viorel looked wildly out of the den towards a tree only a few feet away from where he lay, now engulfed in flames.