06-17-2009, 12:11 AM
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500+
The wolf ran, but she knew that Brennt had already eluded her. The woman pushed her body, and she ran at full speed even knowing that the predator did the same. Her claws scraping against the concrete was her only sign of her passing, for all else was silent, as if she were merely a passing shadow in this long forgotten realm of man. The yellow-eyed predator had passed here—the trail of his scent was stronger than it had been elsewhere, but already the breeze was distorting the path that should have been clear. Like a black blur, she passed through the shadowed city, following the distorted trail of his scent and the call of the pied Raven above who had seen someone ahead. Whoever it was, she did not think that they would have stopped Brennt. But she did not expect them to either.
Then the warrior stopped, her eyes turning briefly to not the form of Dawali against the brick. Her eyes were fierce, as feral as Brennt’s had been. But she turned away, looking at the path ahead of her. But the scent here was everywhere, and the path that the predator had taken was indiscernible in that intangible mess. The woman’s tail waved once behind her, as if she were in thought. She had lost him again—this time, she had not even been wounded. A soft growl escaped the woman’s maw as she lowered her nose to scent the ground. But nothing new enlightened her, and she left standing there at the edge of a path she could not find, so overgrown as it was with weeds. Finally, the woman sighed, expelling that frustration that she felt. Today she may have failed again, but tomorrow would be different, she felt. There would always be a tomorrow.
Turning, the woad marked wolf looked upon Dawali, dipping her maw respectfully to AniWaya’s leader. "Dawali," the warrior greeted. She could sense his uncertainty. She knew that Brennt must have passed through her, and she knew that Brennt had escaped. But the warrior was not disappointed with the leader. To face the predator, the same form had to be used. The taller smaller optime form would be useless against the wild attacks of the primal creature. She was only lucky that at each encounter she had donned the correct shape to battle him. "He’s escaped me again," the soft melody explained, the feral light within her eyes fading as they became calm once more. Fluidly the woman crossed the distance between them, approaching the troubled leader with slow, measured steps. The white eyes sought him with quiet understanding. The woad tipped tail waved once, this time in a comforting gesture. But it was difficult for the wolf to interact with the greater, optime form. "Do no be troubled," the soft lilt said softly. "Next time, he will not be so lucky." With each encounter, regardless of the situation, she came closer and closer. The child of Nemain believed that next time would be the last time.
500+
The wolf ran, but she knew that Brennt had already eluded her. The woman pushed her body, and she ran at full speed even knowing that the predator did the same. Her claws scraping against the concrete was her only sign of her passing, for all else was silent, as if she were merely a passing shadow in this long forgotten realm of man. The yellow-eyed predator had passed here—the trail of his scent was stronger than it had been elsewhere, but already the breeze was distorting the path that should have been clear. Like a black blur, she passed through the shadowed city, following the distorted trail of his scent and the call of the pied Raven above who had seen someone ahead. Whoever it was, she did not think that they would have stopped Brennt. But she did not expect them to either.
Then the warrior stopped, her eyes turning briefly to not the form of Dawali against the brick. Her eyes were fierce, as feral as Brennt’s had been. But she turned away, looking at the path ahead of her. But the scent here was everywhere, and the path that the predator had taken was indiscernible in that intangible mess. The woman’s tail waved once behind her, as if she were in thought. She had lost him again—this time, she had not even been wounded. A soft growl escaped the woman’s maw as she lowered her nose to scent the ground. But nothing new enlightened her, and she left standing there at the edge of a path she could not find, so overgrown as it was with weeds. Finally, the woman sighed, expelling that frustration that she felt. Today she may have failed again, but tomorrow would be different, she felt. There would always be a tomorrow.
Turning, the woad marked wolf looked upon Dawali, dipping her maw respectfully to AniWaya’s leader. "Dawali," the warrior greeted. She could sense his uncertainty. She knew that Brennt must have passed through her, and she knew that Brennt had escaped. But the warrior was not disappointed with the leader. To face the predator, the same form had to be used. The taller smaller optime form would be useless against the wild attacks of the primal creature. She was only lucky that at each encounter she had donned the correct shape to battle him. "He’s escaped me again," the soft melody explained, the feral light within her eyes fading as they became calm once more. Fluidly the woman crossed the distance between them, approaching the troubled leader with slow, measured steps. The white eyes sought him with quiet understanding. The woad tipped tail waved once, this time in a comforting gesture. But it was difficult for the wolf to interact with the greater, optime form. "Do no be troubled," the soft lilt said softly. "Next time, he will not be so lucky." With each encounter, regardless of the situation, she came closer and closer. The child of Nemain believed that next time would be the last time.