Aw shit, here we go again

The evening was growing dark and cold as the sun began its descent down towards the western horizon. The giant ebony and crimson-marked brute trudged his way through the snow around the perimeter of the lake, dark eyes cast up and scouring his surroundings for any signs of threats. Lately, Alastor had been having more and more frequently recurring dreams of the lake. Well, less dreams and more like nightmares. He remembered the cave beneath the lake, the perils he'd faced, the cloaked firefly figure as it taunted him and cursed him. Memories he hadn't thought about in an age. Why they were coming back all of a sudden was unknown to the brute, but regardless they made him feel uneasy about the safety of his family. So he patrolled, circling the lake while keeping his eyes and guard up, praying that the dreams meant nothing but preparing himself for the worst.

"Alastor Mendacium"