Against a tree. His black body blended almost perfectly with the shadows, wings helping to cloak the lighter markings on his pelt. But he couldn't hide the red patch across the bridge of his muzzle. It stood out, plain as day. His sides moved up and down in an uneven rhythm as he slept. Occasionally his body would twitch, and he would whine as some dream plagued him. It was evident that this poor wolf was troubled. Suddenly his body began to tremble violently, as if protecting itself from a blast of cold air. His eyes opened, revealing pure white orbs that held no emotions. Grunting, the wolven creature got to his feet. Once there he lowered his head and shook out his coat, a feeling of dread still clinging to him. He then looked up. There was nothing but empty forest.