A Morning Like Any Other

The Crayon Wolf Cave smelled like fresh paint and pine bark.

Deep in the heart of Artwork Forest, the cave wasn't really a cave at all — it was a home. Curved walls glowed softly with painted murals. Shelves held stacks of sketchbooks, half-finished sculptures, and one very large, very blue crayon propped against the corner like a trusted old friend.

Crayon She Wolf stood at the cave entrance, coffee mug in hand, gray-and-white fur catching the morning breeze. Her blue mask sat slightly crooked on her face. She hadn't fixed it yet.

"Another perfect morning," she said to nobody in particular.

A deer in a yellow apron jogged past on the forest path below. "Morning, Crayon!" she called up cheerfully.

"Morning, Fawna!" She Wolf called back, lifting her mug.

She took a long sip. Overhead, the sky above Artwork Forest was vivid and wide — deep blue fading into gold at the edges.

It was beautiful.

For now.

What the Morning Forgot

She Wolf was halfway through her second mug of coffee when the gold at the edges of the sky simply vanished.

Not like a cloud passing over. Not like rain rolling in. The gold just — left. Like someone had scraped it away with a palette knife.

She stood up straight.

The blue overhead began to thin next, fading in patches, the way watercolor paint washes out when you add too much water. Within seconds, the entire sky above Artwork Forest had gone the color of old chalk.

Then, from somewhere high above the treetops, came a sound. A low, mechanical hum — steady and enormous, like a machine the size of a building had just switched on.

She Wolf squinted upward. Through the pale, colorless sky, she could make out something hovering above the forest canopy — a massive silver structure, roughly circular, with a giant transparent tank attached beneath it. The tank was already faintly tinted with color. Gold and blue swirled inside it like trapped paint.

Her coffee mug hit the cave floor.