The Dreams Again
The intro to my remake of the wolven series. this one will have a better intro, development, everything.
The dreams again. Every other night, the same recurring nightmare. Gun shots. Explosions. Screams. Fire.
Most people would say the screams are what get them the most. The blood curdling, heart wrenching screams. But for Jack, it wasn't the screams.
It was the fire. The graceful, elegant, skin licking fire, as it traveled up the form of his father in the doorway.
And no matter how much Jack screamed, no matter how hard Jack fought, his dreams always ended the same. A brutal aftermath, ash filling the air, soldiers dousing the flames.
Mercy was lost on a race that was so feared. Wolves. Such a strong, prideful race. Elegant in looks, brutal in strength and strategy. But no one expected the lesser races to rise together. There bickering and infighting and rebellions always kept them down.
But that had changed twelve years ago, on Jack's tenth birthday. Twelve years changes a man. Twelve years can also change a world. And eleven burned cities and an entire race gone into hiding is a big change. But there were still twelve proud wolven fortress cities left, and the Black Mob was wise enough to stop and the Southern Border Mountain Range. But at the loss of the High Wolven Capitol of Tu'flaven, the wolven cities were in a state of chaos. Gangs were in a war to control the cities, trying to "unite" them for a push back against the Mob.
Bull shit. They just wanted the power.
Ten minutes after the dream woke him, Jack found himself on a treadmill somewhere. He didn't know how he got there. He never did. At least this time he managed to get pants on. The setting was on the second highest speed, and he was soon panting heavily, his already sweaty fur now dripping. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
He had one basic instinct. One basic need.
He was running.
But he had nowhere to run to anymore.
So he just ran in place. And ran. And ran. And ran.
And the fire kept licking at his fur.