A Wolf At The Door

Un

The smoke always came first. Burning trees that stung his nostrils, filling his lungs until he was sure he would suffocate.

The scent of blood came immediately after.

It overpowered his senses with its slightly sweet odor as it hung in the air around him. It was so close to him he could almost taste it on his tongue.

But he never knew whose blood it was or where it came from. Only that it was not his own.

Following this, was the sensation of being carried and bounced around in someone's arms. They must have been running since their movement was so rapid, so frantic.

He felt them stumble a few times, nearly losing their grip on him. Yet, he never once fell from their arms.

His sight was always one of the last things that came to him.

Vast darkness enclosed him. Nothing could be distinguished save for the orange glow of the moon above him.

He knew then it was a dream because of how perfectly round and full it was. No moon had ever looked like that before. Nor had it ever been that close. He only had to stretch out his hand and grab it.

The final sense that came to him was his hearing. Before, there had only been a deafening silence buzzing in his ears. But this buzzing was slowly overtaken by the croaks and chirps of insects that roamed the night.

Despite the soft echoes of labored breathing to the side of him, it was always the strained howl from somewhere in this distance that he heard the clearest.

Then came another howl, even louder and longer than the first.

And much, much closer.

It was always this last howl that woke Olivier, leaving him a sweaty and panting mess.