[POV: Ruvan]
When Ruvan finally forced his eyes open, he had no idea where he was.
He was in an enclosed space, surrounded by darkness and a growing sense of claustrophobia. Out of panic, Ruvan shot a hand above him, the strength of the movement bursting the stone that trapped him into pieces.
Stone dust and dirt exploded into the air in a gray puff.
Ruvan sat up quickly, anxious to breathe fresh air. Bright light filtered into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. As he blinked away the whiteness permeating his vision, he slowly started to remember things.
"This is… this is where he stabbed me," Ruvan hissed.
He was in a grand altar he had built for himself, situated atop the tallest mountain in the northern wolflands. The view below was nothing like he remembered.
Where there had once been cities, there were only ruins and extensive forests. The roads he used to traverse were overgrown and hidden.
…and there wasn't the scent of another wolf. Not even one.
