It was quiet, all quiet.
The darkness and silence only disturbed by a gentle breeze. He was perfectly happy just existing and being caressed by an invisible breeze. He could have stayed like that, enveloped in darkness forever. But he breeze picked up, the darkness seemed less compact and the tall grass around him started whispering secrets he could not understand. Somehow he knew that the whispers concerned him, and that it was important, but that was all he could grasp. The feeling of merely existing was slowly being replaced by a growing sense of anticipation, and what would come made his fur stand on end.
The grass had warned him, but he was not prepared. Something bigger than a predator approached on the wings of the breeze, he could feel it coming. Other creatures brushed past in a blind panic, but his hooves were planted firmly to the ground and he waited. Could he not move or did he not want to? It was coming on the wings of the wind and a red glow warmed his back. It was coming on the wings of the storm and he welcomed it.
An inferno of roaring flames was over him, louder and brighter than anything. He was in the middle of it, he was the fire and the flames and the howling gale feeding it, his hot breath fed the crescendo of heat, noise, flames.
And then it was all quiet.
