It is a normal day, not unlike any other day as of late, and yet he cannot seem to shake the queasiness of his stomach churning from the nothing he had for lunch. He knows not how it came to be, as nothing out of the ordinary has happened nor crossed his mind. It is a sort of sixth sense, trying to tell him something he cannot understand. What had he done for this feeling to grow and slowly fester inside? He keeps glancing over his shoulder, wondering if he is being followed, but there is no one to be seen in this desolate land. Nevertheless, his fur still stands on end and his fists remain clenched as he chews lightly on his bottom lip, keeping all other senses alert should something unexpected happen. He tries to push it off as he picks up his pace, but it continues to gnaw away at him, refusing to be ignored.

The wind picks up, pushing the jackal from behind and nearly throwing him to the ground. This wind is familiar to him, something he has not encountered for many moons. Something he used to avoid at all costs. He grounds himself, daring to turn back to discover the source of this sudden strong gust. The wind is near blinding; he has to shield his eyes from the wind with his arm in order to see. His muscles tense up, and he feels the breath leave his body at the sight. What he sees confirms the sudden sense of alarm his body had given him before. In the distance, a wall of sand miles high and long bears down on him and threatens to swallow him whole. He knows full well that he cannot outrun the storm, so he looks around anywhere to see if there is some kind of cover, but there is nothing but tan sand as far as he can see.

He does the only thing he can do in a moment like this: close your eyes and mouth, don't breathe, and brace yourself.

The wall hits him hard, and his ears fold against his head to shield from the deafening roar of the winds that whip all around him. Battered from every side, now the storm swirls around him as if he is in the center of a cyclone. He and the Jackal Squad always knew that it was unwise to travel when a sandstorm was about, and now trapped in the middle of one, he finally understands why.

His hand reaches out to the edge, but hisses as he pulls back when the force of the sand is too strong, his hand now starting to swell from the sprain. He can no longer hold his breath as he is forced to exhale, but when he tries to breathe in again to revitalize his oxygen-deprived lungs, he realizes that he can't, as the storm swirling around has taken almost all of the air like a vacuum. The only thing that does make its way inside is sand. He chokes on the invading material that has entered his body, feeling dizzy from all of the winds that try to toss him back and forth. He needs to get away, but he cannot move his feet, the sand waves have engulfed his boots and anchored him to the ground.

He continues to gag as he collapses to his knees, his good hand wrapping around his neck and tears forming in his eyes he can hardly keep open from how much they sting. His lungs cry out for air yet not a sound leaves his mouth. The winds finally push him down to the ground, his strength leaving him and rendering him nearly paralyzed. The sand blows harder, and slowly begins to bury him into his grave.

"Why…?"

Everything changes, it is no longer sand, but cubes, just like the ones he used to be able to conjure up with just a wave of his hand. It was his chosen weapon of fear, fueled by his anger and hatred for the world thanks to the power of the Phantom Ruby. Now they seem to work against him, surrounding him from all sides, from above and below, from anywhere and everywhere. They continue to force their way down his throat as he sinks deeper into the red sea of cubes.

This voice–no, voices…he knows them from somewhere, he thinks he used to treasure them, and yet they haven't said a word in a long time.

Because the Jackal Squad is gone.

And it's all my fault…

"Boss…why couldn't you save us…?"

He jolts upright, his lungs filling with air he never thought he'd be blessed with again. His trembling form struggles to hold this position, almost a contest to see if the body can last longer than the mind. The tear streaks that stain his muzzle cannot be concealed by his sweat-dampened fur.

"F-Finn…?" He hears a groggy voice calling his name over to his left. He is startled until his vision clears up, now recognizing where he is. He is in Gadget's apartment, a place that he has slowly learned to call home over the past several months. Gadget is one of the lucky ones whose home was not completely wrecked during the war that took so much from everyone, even the mighty jackal who caused it himself. And now, after a long time of trying to redeem himself, he finds himself waking up in his boyfriend's bed.

The wolf reaches out a hand and gently places it atop the jackal's. "Nightmare again?"

The jackal says nothing, his eyes fixed upon the comforter that keeps his body warm. He is not shaking so much anymore, but internally is still a mess.

Gadget, now a little more awake than before, sits up as well and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Switch?"

It is an agreement the two have made with one another; each have their own nightmares, and typically when one does, the other will offer their chest to lie on top of and hold in a safe embrace. Finn slowly nods, unwilling to admit he is afraid of falling back asleep again, but still will take cuddling with the wolf whenever offered. Gadget lies back down, and Finn is soon to follow, turning his body to lie on top of the wolf, their legs entangled and Finn's head resting on top of Gadget's chest. He doesn't like imagining the image of what the two must look like, but right now he doesn't care, as his boyfriend is warm and he really doesn't want to move from his comfortable position.

Gadget plants a soft kiss on the jackal's forehead and weaves his fingers through the long white locks of hair, his claws lightly scratching against Finn's black scalp. A small smile makes its way across his maw, sinking deeper into Gadget's embrace. He knows that while he may be weak at times, he allows his weakness to be visible only when he is alone or with his partner. He has come to trust his wolf with his heart, a decision he never thought he would make, but did this little red savior prove him wrong, and he doubts he will ever go back on that risk again.

A/N: So I needed to catch a little break for a little bit and try out something different. The other day, I gave myself a challenge to improve my writing skills in the ability to show rather than tell, and in order to do that, I gave myself a prompt and decided that it was going to be limited to 1000 words.

Safe to say I failed that by about 240 words, but I'm not about to scrap it, and I'm pretty satisfied with it, so here it is. Not really sure if it's the greatest thing I've ever done (as most of this was written well past midnight), but heck.

As this was a challenge for me to improve my skills in writing, I would highly appreciate any kind of criticism you may have, so please leave a review if you have any suggestions for me!