Basya was standing in the middle of a heavily, fogged field. His breath was coming out in quick, short pants, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he tried to catch his breath in the heavy air and he didn't know why, but he was scared. His tail was wagging slowly and low to the ground, ears flickering up/down/up/up/down. Breath puffed up around in short,white clouds and he realized abstractly that he was freezing. The fog around him was beginning to pick up an unnatural pace, swirling in curlicues and intricate figures around him. Basya could feel his heart pounding in his ears and his fear swelling like a tide and pushing into his limbs. The fog pressed closer and closer and he found himself being overwhelmed. It was stifling and Basya couldn't breath, couldn't run, could only stand there as a burning sensation began in his lungs. Through his line of sight, Basya saw the figure of a wolf appear in the fog. Basya couldn't in anyway discern who the figure was. It moved forward a step, then stopped, raised its eyes upwards to the night sky and howled a low mournful note and he knew who it was.
Basya woke up shivering. The remnants of his dream were still skirting around the edges of his conscious and he repressed the urge to whine. The closed space of the den was becoming very claustrophobic very fast. He shakily got to his paws and carefully picked his way out, giving a flat eared apology and a mournful wag of tail to the few he disturbed along the way. The past week had been a nightmare, and this wasn't the only time he had woken up a few others with his spasmodic twitching and grunts. He hadn't known the wolves lost as best friends, but they were pack and pack meant family and Basya mourned them. The reasons of their death were tremulous and strange, and even though Basya hadn't been there personally, he couldn't help but notice the gossiped murmurs around camp and tense stances, belying something bad was going to happen or was already happening.
Basya's eyes looked over the few wolves up, seeing if there was anyone to join. They completely skirted Ulfric, as he made Basya jittery just by a look at his intense eyes. Basya was suspicious of the new comers. A part of him protested it was silly and prejudiced and that the pack had accepted them and so should he, but with all the shady things that had happened recently and their appearance, Basya didn't feel right with it. His eyes skirted over Sabine, Ansel, and Sani. Then there was Helaku. Reliable.
Basya padded over and sat near him. He nodded his head in greeting, and, belatedly realizing he was slightly blocking the other wolf's sun, moved a bit farther away. "Sor-" Basya cut off at the rusty sound of his voice first thing in the morning, then restarted, normally. "Sorry," His tail sweeped the ground and he glanced at Helaku. He noticed the cutting, strong figure Helaku made, all glowy in the sun and glanced down at himself. Then back up to Helaku. "All right then?"
Basya regretted his words immediately, because small talk was a really awful thing to resort to. Sitting in the sun in relative silence would have been better. Basya shivered, and tucked his tail closer to himself.