In the chill of the night, they fled. Lightning shook the charming, yet average house. Glass shattering, the booming noise waking all in confusion. The last of any peaceful slumber for moons to come.
The wolves entered first, leaving no picture frame unturned. Their noses sniffing for any scent, operating on orders to hunt and kill. The pack found the empty bedrooms – windows opened, curtains flapping in the wind. No sight of the family. Their fear lingered in the air. Sometimes psychological terror had to be enough. Tomorrow another day and the phoenix couldn’t hide forever.
Note: Story is set in my mythological novel world. The lightning came from Lighting Birds and the wolves are shapeshifting Guardians.