Winter Month: 2 
Night 
Blizzard Moon: 
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚞𝚗
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
Present Day
Location: Southern Africa
You stir in your den, the air around you crisp in the early morning before the sun has made its appearance. Your eyes blink awake and your pupils dilate, trying to adjust against the darkness of your underground den, the only place you really feel safe. In your eyes' failing attempt to adjust, you give a small huff and push your body up off the ground, tight muscles and tired bones creaking and popping. Clods of dirt and dead grass coat your matted fur from where you were resting, so you give a half-attempt at shaking it out before you decide to poke your head out of the den's entrance for a breath of fresh air.
Walking out, you draw in a big yawn and try to rid yourself of the grogginess from a restless night, but that's nothing new. Thinking back on it you really haven't gotten a good nights rest in nearly 90 days, and just the thought sends shivers down your spine. Paw step after paw step, you've finally made it out of the den but don't stray far from its entrance in case danger sends you fleeing back in. As a pup you enjoyed watching the sun rise peak over the horizon, casting a beautiful mixture of oranges, pinks, and purples across the cloud-blotted sky. But that all changed mere months ago, because now you and your pack hide in the depths of your den for the sun has grown red and ill, infecting, some would say, anything the light touches. You and your pack have been fortunate enough to survive this long, blindly navigating through life itself.
But then again, it's been an entire 3 months. Members of your pack grow restless in the confinement of the den and food rations won't last much longer. Only time will tell when limits are pushed and someone is forced out into the open air in attempt to not only provide for the rest of their pack, but survive.
But those who touch sunlight become savages, and the shadows are always watching.
Beginning
No one really knows exactly how the sun grew ill. It started as a harmless sickness and it was figured to be from a prolonged amount of sun exposure with symptoms along the lines of heat exhaustion. But the animals never got better. Their eyes glazed over and they became blinded by the infection, they began to over salivate and lose liquids which lead to dehydration and wrinckled their skin. Soon enough they were called Savages, they plenty looked the part, that was no doubt. It's as if their entire nature had been altered, they began to turn on their own kind, killing even packs of lions in the masses. Those who were smart fled into hiding and dug an underground system in which they were to live. Many figured out quite fast to stay out of the sun, which meant they could only hunt during the nighttime hours. But even in the dark they weren't safe, for the infected animals still lurked in the shadows.
Their impaired vision made things easier at night, so as long as you didn't make a noise or stayed downwind so your scent wouldn't reach the noses of the infected, you'd be safe, but you only have a short window of time before the sun rises again and forces you back into hiding. You've made it this far but start to wonder how much longer life can go on in these ways. This is no longer a simple fight for answers, but a full blown battle to survive.