Here we go again

Atticus had always prided himself on his ability to read the weather and its established patterns. However, lately, things had taken an unexpected turn. The climate had shifted abruptly, growing more humid and sweltering than in previous months. Atticus felt a compelling need to comprehend this change and to uncover the reasons behind it. As he moved, the ground trembled beneath him, and confusion flickered in his eyes, his ears pressed flat against his head. What was happening? Surely, there had to be explanations, and he was determined to find them. He was confident he would unearth the answers, but it might take some time. The brute would have to acclimate to the occasional tremors of the land. Could it be the legendary volcano that was responsible? The very one he'd heard tales about? After all, even legends often held grains of truth—most weren’t just mere fantasies. Atticus was a seeker of truth, a clever brute, and a formidable ally. Many said he possessed wisdom beyond his years. Were those merely whispers carried by the winds, or was there an element of truth in them?

Violet eyes and icy sapphire orbs scanned the surroundings, aware that Kronos, his brother, would also be intrigued by Atticus's unique skills. Together, the two males could generate ideas, tracing their thoughts and discussing them to reach a conclusion. However, the situation at hand was concerning. Whispers of the earth consuming itself, leading to its own destruction, echoed in his mind. Atticus hoped fervently that this was not part of that dire prophecy. Thoughts swirled in his head as he raised his gaze to the sky, where no clouds softened the harsh rays of the sun. Frankly, Atticus wasn’t reassured by the landscape he beheld, but he was no novice and had learned a thing or two over the years. Yet, he worried about others and the other packs. How would they cope?

Each tremor that rumbled beneath the ground sent the animals fleeing, causing the water to splash and ripple at the edges of the small grassy slope. Tree branches yielded to the force, with several breaking and crashing to the ground. A powerful call echoed out, searching for his brother, who couldn't be too far away. Atticus was also nearby, so the call could easily reach him across the valley to the expansive, vibrant plains of the dancefloor. Ears perked up as vigilant eyes meticulously surveyed the surroundings.

The tremors weren't as intense as they could have been, but they were powerful enough to topple some smaller trees. As he lifted himself up, he felt the weight of twin peaks on his skull, and the skies hinted at a brewing storm, perhaps bringing the promise of rain. He could only wish for it; the dry grasses desperately needed nourishment to regain their vibrant green hues. Hope was all they could cling to, especially with so many smaller water sources all but dried up. Suddenly, the ground shook again, this time with greater force than before.

His two-toned eyes of a deep rich plum and a softer ice like azure surveyed the surroundings, searching for any signs of movement. The prey Insomnia had been tracking had scattered, revealing a crack in the earth. Atticus knew this situation wouldn't end well, but he could only hope for the best. The heat of the days was intensifying, and the ground beneath him shook and trembled, an unsettling feeling in response to the shifting weather. The fissure in the ground was shallow, barely an inch deep, and would likely be filled in if rain were to arrive. This heat was the most intense he had experienced in these unfamiliar lands. Despite this, he remained indifferent, even as the nights offered little promise of relief. A low growl escaped his throat as he rose to examine the new scar in the landscape.

He felt ideas beginning to flow and swirl in his mind, intertwining with thoughts about what might come next. Although he was uncertain, he knew he had to warn the rest of Insomnia, even if they didn’t take him seriously. If he turned out to be right, they would be foolish to ignore his warning. Shaking his head, he diverted his attention back to the earth, pressing his ear to the ground to listen for any signs of tremors. However, no clear signals emerged. Only by paying close attention could he discern the subtle shifting of rocks, a strange sight indeed. Atticus Dunamis couldn’t shake the feeling that this winter would be harsh for all the pack members.

At that moment, he had reached his limit. A sense of urgency compelled him to seek shelter before the storm intensified, and sure enough, the dark clouds looming overhead unleashed their fury. It wasn't a light drizzle; it was a harsh, icy downpour that sent a chill rattling through his very bones. Despite his decision, he couldn't shake the worry for the packs scattered across the land. Whatever was unfolding was bound to be unforgiving and brutal, a stark contrast to the beautiful spring weather they had recently enjoyed..

Word Count : 851 of 800