There was blood on my pillow. For that matter, there was blood in my mouth; It tasted like copper. I don't usually notice the taste of blood, but this caught me somewhat by surprise.
I got up, gargled some water, and carefully probed my mouth with my tongue. As far as I could tell, nothing hurt, and no more blood was coming out. Maybe I cut myself early in my sleep.
I got up properly, fully enjoying the freshly risen sun which was busy spraying it's yellow rays through the forest canopy. There was a fresh campfire pit just visible from my home, choking out the last of the smoke from the chipped wood. When I looked closer, there was a spit, and most of the corpse of a rabbit, medium-rare, still sitting on the spit.
Goddamnit. That explained it. Must've been a full moon last night. I had to clean this up before the other wolves found out.