indentIt was a shrill sort of sound, an inhuman scream piercing through the fog in the night. Except there was no fog tonight. He lifted his heavy head from his forelegs and breathed in to inhale smoke, thick, heavy, black smoke. And very quickly, he forgot about whatever noise he had heard and could only dart his eyes around, trying to take in the flames in the distance and the spiraling fumes all around him. He stood but remained shock still beyond that, seized with a strange sort of terror he was sure he'd never felt before. There were embers dancing, escaping above the trees on the horizon and he could see that the whole world was ablaze in a sunrise's color. A sunrise, not a sunset. It felt like the dawn of something new, crashing down on the ashes, or soon-to-be-ashes of the past.



indentAnd he couldn't move.



indentThe trees were cracking apart somewhere in the flaming black and orange chaos and he could hear them groaning under the weight of themselves. Further beyond, he thought he could hear more screaming, the howls and cries of people in neighboring territories. So it wasn't just his own cursed pack, was it? The whole world was crumbling before his eyes. This was the apocalypse. This was the end. His nose found its way to the sky without direction and he closed his eyes to scream. His cry was as coyote-like as ever, higher-pitched yips and barking, followed by a long, sustained wail, a siren. There were no words to be said, only meanings to be understood. He wasn't their leader anymore (never really had been) and this wasn't their land (it would all be gone soon). Get out or die. Run away from here and never return. Far, far away. They had a tendancy to return, but not this time, and not ever again. Run away.



indentHis voice never sounded like his own anymore and he listened as it echoed away to nothing. He was already just a ghost, just watching the world go by. A tree fell nearby, a flaming torch setting the grass around it on fire. They would reach him soon. Slowly, almost casually, he walked away from where he had been standing. The trees he passed in his path were little more than black sticks, matches with their heads aflame. They swayed precariously in the wind and threw embers towards him as he drifted through his burning pack, coughing now and then from the bitter, black smoke. The laughter in his head became louder and clearer as he went; was this what it would be like to see the sun explode?



indentThe clearing was not so much a clearing anymore. Trees had fallen, bushes were burning. He was near-blind traveling through the blackness and his lungs were burning. Laruku lay down beside his mother's grave like he hadn't in almost two years. Lying above his family's dead bodies was all he had ever had. He would have faith in his pack's ability to stand on its own, without its lake and land, without their apathetic figurehead. Naniko and Conri could take care of themselves. Melisande was more than capable as well. Cercelee and all the rest. They would be fine. They had always been fine. But he had been waiting for this a long time. Another tree shrieked as the burning wood gave way.



indentHe closed his eyes.