A light snow falls.
A portal opens.
The peace is shattered as a swirling picture-window, into what could easily be confused with hell, rips open the icy air. From the juxtaposition of darkness and flame, a young wolf steps out in a blast of heat that melts the snow around him. The gritty tundra below is bare as his broad, black paws steam against the should-be frozen earth as he finds his balance. Behind him, there is the sound of a void being created - and then a pop as the arctic air refills in the space where Tephra had briefly been.
Then silence.
For a moment the wolf wonders if he has found the great white oblivion, so quickly had he been thrown from chaos into the nothingness. Not even another mind brushes against his own. But it is a passing thought, and the yearling is almost disappointed as his dark head turns and he realizes he has seen this place in the thought of others.
Confused yet unscathed, Firen sits and waits for he knows not what and wings of flame ripple above his brindle back. The residual heat rolling off his thick coat causes the frozen earth below his haunches to groan but he does not stir. He was nothing if not patient - too passive for his own good - his father liked to say, and he finds solace in the silence.
Still shook and a little disoriented, he is content to remain a nameless figure somewhere along the coast of a barren winter world, looking out across the great North Sea.
A portal opens.
The peace is shattered as a swirling picture-window, into what could easily be confused with hell, rips open the icy air. From the juxtaposition of darkness and flame, a young wolf steps out in a blast of heat that melts the snow around him. The gritty tundra below is bare as his broad, black paws steam against the should-be frozen earth as he finds his balance. Behind him, there is the sound of a void being created - and then a pop as the arctic air refills in the space where Tephra had briefly been.
Then silence.
For a moment the wolf wonders if he has found the great white oblivion, so quickly had he been thrown from chaos into the nothingness. Not even another mind brushes against his own. But it is a passing thought, and the yearling is almost disappointed as his dark head turns and he realizes he has seen this place in the thought of others.
Confused yet unscathed, Firen sits and waits for he knows not what and wings of flame ripple above his brindle back. The residual heat rolling off his thick coat causes the frozen earth below his haunches to groan but he does not stir. He was nothing if not patient - too passive for his own good - his father liked to say, and he finds solace in the silence.
Still shook and a little disoriented, he is content to remain a nameless figure somewhere along the coast of a barren winter world, looking out across the great North Sea.
![[Image: Firen-insane.gif]](https://i.postimg.cc/fL1FKyZk/Firen-insane.gif)