Years too late

Mortis woke with the deep seated knowledge that it was samhain, and they were coming for his mother. He could almost feel the icy tendrils of death sliding through the air. They were coming for her. To claim Zee as their own. He shot to his paws and raced blindly through the woods. The territory looked wrong to him. He was looking for the tall grasses of his childhood. Not these strange, twisted trees.


The boy raced on, raising his head and howling out for Zee. “Mum! Mum!” He called, frantic as the woods opened up to a mountain pass. He raced ahead, through the two mountains. To the strange, and unfamiliar world that opened up between them.


A wolf stepped into his path. A white wolf, with fatalis marks across their eyes. But a stranger to him. A wolf that would stand in his way while his mother was slaughtered. “Move, wolf!” He snarled, aiming to shove his shoulder into theirs. Calling all the while. “Mum!!”