Boys will be boys

Turbulent days turned into turbulent nights. Turbulent nights meant uneasy sleep. Ever since Daemon had turned a yearling, it felt like what he knew to be stable and true was starting to erode away. There was always that lingering wonder of if Elysium would still exist when he woke in the morning or if everything would have finally fallen apart. There was no doubt in the lad's mind that his uncle Deimos was a weak leader and would bring the downfall of their family's pack, but he was powerless to do anything to stop it. On top of all that, going into adolescence had awoken things inside Daemon—feelings and things he didn't know how to explain. Aggression towards other brutes, a sudden keen interest in the faes around him... But with everything else going on, the boy just stewed in his own head, letting the maelstrom of hormones and unbridled drives run rampant.

His unsettled state even manifested itself in his sleep. Slumber came uneasy to Daemon, the lad tossing and turning in his bed while a storm rumbled outside. At a year old, Daemon had hit his massive dire size, and much of his puppy fat had begun to melt away, now somewhere in the middle of the metamorphosis from pup to adult. Thin and built of not quite rippling muscle, but more like lean planes waiting to be chiseled away and defined. His paws kicked at the furs as he slipped into a restless sleep, falling into the darkness of unconsciousness. No dreams came to him yet, just an empty blackness of possibility that he felt like he was slowly falling into, like sinking into the dark abyss of the ocean.

This did not feel like his normal dreams.

"Daemon Mendacium"