Post by Andarial on May 21, 2010 20:18:35 GMT -5
Notes: I know it's not going to be flawless but one can always hope?
“It is a horrible place. Full of horrible things, the stuff of nightmares. Things you never would think could ever happen, happen there. And I never want to go back even if it means dying at the hands of one of my own kind in the ring being watched for pure enjoyment,” I sighed sadly. What was wrong with these days?
Suddenly Creekrunner stood, still quiet as death itself, and said to me, “Let’s not think about these things. Let’s merely enjoy the rush of the fight.”
Though we were not fully healed we moved quickly to the ring of sand, eager to move away from the subject we had been discussing. Deciding to fight in human form he jabbed at me and I ducked. I was faster than him but he was much, much stronger and with every hit that was landed I felt the wind rush out of my lungs in a pained grunt. I ducked and punched back but I had never been a good fighter in the human way.
Quickly when I was knocked over I crouched and swept my foot out at his legs causing him to fall. He began to laugh hoarsely, the wind barely coming back into his lungs when he started. It was a cheerful laugh one that made me laugh to and I helped him up.
He said, “You really should focus on using your feet more often they are more powerful than your arms.”
I nodded and we continued like this into the day, him correcting me or giving me tips as the sun rose then fell outside of the Coliseum. I was soon tired and though we took breaks quite often it didn’t seem to help at all. It was because, as Creekrunner said, I hadn’t had real exercise in probably years. I shook my head at that and refused to believe I had become weak.
“You’re not weak just tired and malnourished,” he said as we took another break. It was becoming harder and harder to keep my eyes open.
I hadn’t realized that I had said that aloud and flushed slightly when he said that. I sat against the wall and sighed as I leaned my head back against the solid and cool cement. I must have drifted off because before I knew it I was being shaken awake by Creekrunner and was being forced to stand.
“It’s nighttime already,” he said quietly and gently began to push to the line of werewolves near the open door that we had come out of. I guess it was time to sleep. I already had though and though I was still sleepy I didn’t really feel that tired.
We moved through to the cells again and once again I was sick to my stomach. The silver and metal mixed bars had made me lose all the freedom I had felt at there, even with the heavy steel collar around my neck. Acid anger burned in my chest as the cell door closed on me once I stepped into the room. I would have to wait a whole eight hours to feel that freedom again. So I settled myself down against the wall and rested, keeping myself in view of Creekrunner.
“You know, I have heard of Ancients who could touch silver. Is it true?” I asked trying to make conversation though my eyes were closed.
“Yes, I am one of those Ancients,” he said matter-of-factly.
My eyes snapped open and I crawled towards him, “What do you mean? Then why are you really still here? You could get out so easily!!”
I was so confused. What was he doing? Why was he really here? He was holding something back. But what?
“As I said before I am tired of running!” his voice grew vicious, yet it was still calm, in a way that told me to drop it. And I did, I was afraid of him; I didn’t want to anger my only possible friend, even though I knew he was lying.
I slumped backwards against the left wall of the cell and sighed. Why wouldn’t he tell me what was wrong? Perhaps he didn’t trust me enough. After all we had just met today but we were in a place where one needed a friend. And still even if we weren’t in this place I would still feel this way. I felt like I had known him for the longest time. Like I was tied to him somehow. Like my soul was his soul.
I laid down and mused over this. Exhausted, I soon fell asleep; dreams once again plagued my mind:
What was this strange forest that I always found myself in when I slept? As soon as I fell asleep I was transported to this strange dream place full of redwood trees and fog. I glanced around nervous. I crept forward; I didn’t like the fact that I could smell very little because of the thick scent of rotting undergrowth and the moisture of the fog. My emerald eyes were searching, looking for another being and my black fur held onto the droplets of water.
I suddenly walked into a clearing. There was a horrible scene before me, the tawny wolf from before, with the golden eyes that looked so much like Creekrunner’s, lay on the ground bleeding from a terrible wound. His breathing was shallow and all I could do was watch as his breathing began to stop.
A whimper left my muzzle. My paw came up to touch his fur. Fur that was so soft it felt like silk. Another of my kind gunned down by humans! I howled in fury and sorrow, a blood-curdling howl that hurt the soul. I mourned him in that cry.
“It is a horrible place. Full of horrible things, the stuff of nightmares. Things you never would think could ever happen, happen there. And I never want to go back even if it means dying at the hands of one of my own kind in the ring being watched for pure enjoyment,” I sighed sadly. What was wrong with these days?
Suddenly Creekrunner stood, still quiet as death itself, and said to me, “Let’s not think about these things. Let’s merely enjoy the rush of the fight.”
Though we were not fully healed we moved quickly to the ring of sand, eager to move away from the subject we had been discussing. Deciding to fight in human form he jabbed at me and I ducked. I was faster than him but he was much, much stronger and with every hit that was landed I felt the wind rush out of my lungs in a pained grunt. I ducked and punched back but I had never been a good fighter in the human way.
Quickly when I was knocked over I crouched and swept my foot out at his legs causing him to fall. He began to laugh hoarsely, the wind barely coming back into his lungs when he started. It was a cheerful laugh one that made me laugh to and I helped him up.
He said, “You really should focus on using your feet more often they are more powerful than your arms.”
I nodded and we continued like this into the day, him correcting me or giving me tips as the sun rose then fell outside of the Coliseum. I was soon tired and though we took breaks quite often it didn’t seem to help at all. It was because, as Creekrunner said, I hadn’t had real exercise in probably years. I shook my head at that and refused to believe I had become weak.
“You’re not weak just tired and malnourished,” he said as we took another break. It was becoming harder and harder to keep my eyes open.
I hadn’t realized that I had said that aloud and flushed slightly when he said that. I sat against the wall and sighed as I leaned my head back against the solid and cool cement. I must have drifted off because before I knew it I was being shaken awake by Creekrunner and was being forced to stand.
“It’s nighttime already,” he said quietly and gently began to push to the line of werewolves near the open door that we had come out of. I guess it was time to sleep. I already had though and though I was still sleepy I didn’t really feel that tired.
We moved through to the cells again and once again I was sick to my stomach. The silver and metal mixed bars had made me lose all the freedom I had felt at there, even with the heavy steel collar around my neck. Acid anger burned in my chest as the cell door closed on me once I stepped into the room. I would have to wait a whole eight hours to feel that freedom again. So I settled myself down against the wall and rested, keeping myself in view of Creekrunner.
“You know, I have heard of Ancients who could touch silver. Is it true?” I asked trying to make conversation though my eyes were closed.
“Yes, I am one of those Ancients,” he said matter-of-factly.
My eyes snapped open and I crawled towards him, “What do you mean? Then why are you really still here? You could get out so easily!!”
I was so confused. What was he doing? Why was he really here? He was holding something back. But what?
“As I said before I am tired of running!” his voice grew vicious, yet it was still calm, in a way that told me to drop it. And I did, I was afraid of him; I didn’t want to anger my only possible friend, even though I knew he was lying.
I slumped backwards against the left wall of the cell and sighed. Why wouldn’t he tell me what was wrong? Perhaps he didn’t trust me enough. After all we had just met today but we were in a place where one needed a friend. And still even if we weren’t in this place I would still feel this way. I felt like I had known him for the longest time. Like I was tied to him somehow. Like my soul was his soul.
I laid down and mused over this. Exhausted, I soon fell asleep; dreams once again plagued my mind:
What was this strange forest that I always found myself in when I slept? As soon as I fell asleep I was transported to this strange dream place full of redwood trees and fog. I glanced around nervous. I crept forward; I didn’t like the fact that I could smell very little because of the thick scent of rotting undergrowth and the moisture of the fog. My emerald eyes were searching, looking for another being and my black fur held onto the droplets of water.
I suddenly walked into a clearing. There was a horrible scene before me, the tawny wolf from before, with the golden eyes that looked so much like Creekrunner’s, lay on the ground bleeding from a terrible wound. His breathing was shallow and all I could do was watch as his breathing began to stop.
A whimper left my muzzle. My paw came up to touch his fur. Fur that was so soft it felt like silk. Another of my kind gunned down by humans! I howled in fury and sorrow, a blood-curdling howl that hurt the soul. I mourned him in that cry.