Darkness was fleeing quickly before the onslaught of the sun. The shadows were still dark, the stars still glowed, and owls still called hauntingly, but the shadows were shrinking, the stars were fading, and the owls soared leisurely back to their hollows. Vidar had tarried in the faded fields for too long. He had relished the feel of the sun on his hide, hotter and closer here than below the tree line. On his second night in the alpine meadow, the wolf had noticed a strange violet glow coming from beneath the trees of the black forest. It thinned out considerably as it grew up the side of the mountain. The treeline was less of an actual line, and more of a gradient of large trees transitioning into shrubs into bushes into grasses. Curiosity, somehow rekindled by his time in this strange realm, had tugged at him. What lay beneath the shadows of the trees? An insect? A monster? Glowing flowers? It could quite literally be anything here. So the wolf had picked his way down the slope, using the light o the moon to guide his steps.

It was strange. As night had fallen on his second day in these realms, he had felt his ardor for Morpheus fade. He no longer felt fixated on the god's beauty, inner or outer. His fate and happiness no longer depended solely on the other's approval. Somehow the god had gone from the second love of his life to merely his dearest friend. Vidar was perturbed. Truly, his infatuation with the god of dreams had been concerning, to say the least, as he had thought himself utterly devoted to Berry. Now that his new love had disappeared so soon, he feared he had become fickle. How else could one go from in love to not?

Branches brushed Vidar's fur as he pushed his way through the last barrier of undergrowth that had grown unruly without the canopy of a tree to limit it. The source of the violet glow revealed itself to be crystals which seemed to grow from the leaf litter of the forest floor as organically as the plants. Vidar gazed at them in wonderment. This was indeed a realm of dreams, even without the god by his side. He stopped beside one particularly pretty cluster of crystals, admiring their rich indigo shade. He had never seen anything else in nature that particular color, not even a flower. He wondered what such a plant would like. Nothing large, but not too close to ground lest it grow unnoticed. Perhaps a vine, thin and delicate, winding gracefully up the trunk of the tree before him like a serpent. The flowers would stud it lightly, to inherently pretty to trend toward ostentatious. Yes, little clusters of three would be best, all the deepest indigo, framed by velvety, heart-shaped leaves.

Vidar felt a tug on his heart. Energy flowed out of him through his paws, leaving him weak and gasping. What was happening? Had he been poisoned? The earth at the base of the tree began to quiver. A curling green shoot forced its way out with a spray of dark soil then began to wind its way up the trunk of the tree. It put out first leaves, then flowers, all as he had thought. Vidar goggled. Had he done this? Surely not. It was impossible! Your powers will grow as you do. Morpheus had said so. Was this one of the powers he had spoken of? To create life to his own specifications? Incredible!

As the wolf stared, the first real rays of sunlight touched his coat. A cacophony of noise filled his ears, causing him to star up into the canopy in confusion. By all the gods, what was that noise? Where were the wolves that bickered and cursed like fishmongers? Surely they were not hiding in the branches, not in these numbers. A bird, plain and brown like any other, flitted down from the tree with the brand new vine and landed on a twig not so far away from where Vidar stood. "Who do you think you are? What makes you think you can just walk up and change someones home? Wolves! You're all the same!" Vidar started. Talking birds? Could that be what was making all that noise? How could he understand them? Part of his new power? He liked it less already. "I - I'm sorry? I didn't realize birds cared about things like that."

The bird trilled sharply. "Not care? NOT CARE? I'll show you not care!" Viciously, she swooped down from her perch and yanked out a large tuft of fur from Vidar's back. He yelped and cringed. No matter how ferocious a wolf thinks he is, he is absolutely not prepared for aerial attacks. Vidar was far from ferocious. He scowled after the bird as she flew away, chirping triumphantly. Birds were much less beautiful than his new vine. Why, he would bet the vine was even grateful, not like that shrew of a bird.

tags: open
words: 853
notes: playing with powers and his new curse!