Soteria

[Tristan]

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Wyldfire the wolf-man sat squat a rocky ridge overlooking a distant fjord. He was panting from the long run up the mountain, though deep down he knew the panting was unnecessary. There was something freeing about a loose tongue and heaving chest. It was life. Freedom. He devoured such things greedily.

Alongside sat on his haunches a wolf that ran with him this night. The two sat side by side, thoughts and images swirling between them like sand caught on the wind. Neither spoke. The only sound were their distinctive breaths.

Suddenly, a piercing darted through the world of the wolf dream. It stuck in his head like an arrow thunked into a tree. There was urgency, need. Wyldfire growled, teeth bared slightly for the wrongness. The wolf sensed it too. Ears prickled straight. Its nose pointed into far distance, but they both knew.

With a push, Tristan shoved himself from the cliff, hurling himself in an arc of emptiness to the cavern floor hundreds of meters below. His feet hit the ground running, and with each bound, he leaped great distances with only a streak of color to be seen in the motion.  

He came to a stop suddenly, ears flat, teeth bared for a fight. A red-painted door stood erect, and he reached cautiously forward to open it.