---

Something tickled the end of his nose, and Mekh opened his eyes.

Expecting the comforting glow of amber sands and the warmth of the sun upon his brow, he was surprised to see naught but a sea of white.

It felt - cold. Startlingly cold.

Was this a dream?

Standing up on long, thin legs, the coywolf shook a layer of snow from his tawny pelt and looked around with an air of perplexed curiosity. This must certainly be a dream, he thought, for it would have been impossible to reach a place such as this on his own. Mekh would not abandon his Pharoah, his Seti, his very raison d'être - so he would pursue this interesting fantasy with a casual air of nonchalance. As a lazy smile wove its way up his cheeks, he tested the snow beneath his paws with a satisfying crunch, fascinated by its chill and texture.

So much like white sand, yet entirely unique.

His head swiveled to take in the surrounding landscape. Tall, frigid pine trees loomed overhead, their shape foreign and unnatural to the coywolf - not at all like the spindly palms from home, he thought. A strong gust of wind whipped at his fur and he shivered.

It felt so real.

Mekh remained nonplussed. He would surely awaken soon.

What exotic strangers might occupy this all-too-vivid dream of his as well, and what impossible stories might they have to share?

He tilted his head back and howled. It wasn't fully wolf, nor was it the exaggerated scream of a coyote, but the sound lingered somewhere between the two in a strange and unsettling way to those unfamiliar with its origin.

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