Impossible Creatures: Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own Impossible Creatures, Rex Chance or any of its characters.
Summary: A strange dream unsettles the man known as Rex Chance, newly arrived in a place that no longer feels like home.
Animal voices echoed in the still air around him. At first he thought none of them were close, but a deep sixth sense warned him such a conclusion was incorrect.
He stiffened with fear as the creature appeared, moving towards him gracefully, fearlessly. He knew at once he was dreaming. The intelligent face of a wolf and the rangy body were instantly recognizable as canine, but the springy athletic legs, they were feline. They were covered in thick tawny fur, while the torso and head bore mottled-grey wolf fur.
This was certainly a strange dream.
The strange hybrid moved closer still and two more things become apparent. The first was the size. It stood as tall as a Clydesdale at the shoulder, powerful muscles rippling majestically under its fur. The wolf head was about the size of a tiger's and the jaws looked capable of crushing bone. The second thing was the eyes. Their were no pupils, and they glowed an eerie whitish-blue colour.
Closer and closer it prowled on silent feline feet, until it was inches away, terrifyingly real. The hairs along the neck bristled, the sound of it exhaling, the twitch of the whiskers. This was getting far too strange.
Wake up, Rex! Wake up!
Rex Chance sat bolt upright in bed, a sheen of sweat bathing him in a soft glow from the weak light cast by a stubby candle beside the bed. Outside the sky was still dark. It took him a second to get his bearings before he pushed aside the covers and headed for the bathroom, leaning heavily against the porcelain basin. That had been a vivid dream.
Rex was a tall man, all sinew and muscle, and it was quite obvious at a glance at his tanned skin and calloused hands he was used to a life outdoors. His hair was thick, medium brown, and had a slight wave. Long brows accented wide-set dark brown eyes, eyes that shone with a hint of compassion under the steely outer barrier. He had strong features, well-defined cheekbones, and a small cleft in his stubble-dusted chin. At the moment he look tense and frazzled, anxiously running a hand through his thick hair. He couldn't recall having a dream like this since he was a very young child.
Far too restless and keyed-up now to go back to bed, Rex instead went downstairs. He had returned home late the previous evening and stumbled straight to bed without even checking over his apartment. Being fired had proved oddly exhausting. Or perhaps it had been the visit to the local pub afterwards that had tired him out?
There was a layer of dust over everything, but otherwise it was the same old cramped apartment. The pot-plant his ex-girlfriend had given him the previous year was dead. This was unsurprising, since Rex had left on his latest - and last, it turned out - assignment the day after she'd given it to him. He didn't think he'd even watered it, and he felt a momentary touch of guilt looking at the whithered skeleton of the plant that was all that remained in the dusty pot of earth and another failed relationship. This was the first night he'd spent in his apartment in five months. Sighing, his eye fell upon the stack of letters he must have stepped right over upon entering last night. He stooped to pick them up and thought about sitting down to sort through them. He'd been away for Christmas - perhaps there was a card or two among the various bills, photography magazines, and free samples.
A sudden bout of loneliness struck him as he stood in his hallway, which now seemed less familiar to him than the cabin he'd spent the previous four weeks in during the trip home. He bowed his head and dropped the pile of of mail on the table as he headed back to his room. Pushing the door closed against the sight of the empty, dusty, barren apartment that looked as if it had been abandoned by its owner, he heaved a sigh and lay back down on the bed.
The mail could wait until morning.
