07-27-2010, 07:57 PM
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A long time ago Gabriel had been arrogant. He was cruel and uncaring, a beast made up only to please his own whims. He had been formed out of two egos that were umatched in their time. He had been formed in sin and given his life through fire. Death had been following him since birth, since the time he had watched it come in the form of a crooked-toothed wolf and rip his brother apart while he still drew breath. When he had killed first, he had fled. When he had killed again, he had fled. He feared retribition as all boys do.
Then came the desert. At first he had feared it, for the unknown expanse of nothing was staggering. The sky pressed down from all corners and the sun burned his feet and boiled his blood. It had been the coyotes who had reminded him of his pride—why he had been hailed as a prophet not a year beforehand. Pride turned into arrogance, and it was arrogance that sought to destroy him. Battles were games. Then another wolf came. Gabriel did not remember his face anymore, but imagined it to look like Haku’s. The scar on his muzzle had reminded him he was mortal. So too had the fear.
Fear had stayed with him despite his denial of it. Now, though, there was no fear. There was a terrible hollow thing that focused his senses and moved his body. The weight of the blue-eyed demon was far too great and Gabriel fell. He landed hard on his back and felt white hot pain rush down his spine, but there was no time for pain. A monster was on him, a two-hundred pound beast that was nothing but muscle and tooth and claw. Gabriel’s ears fanned flat and buried themselves in his too-long hair, and his hands gripped the two ends of the spear and thrust the length of it back against a hungry maw. Both feet scrambled under the beast, seeking a grip on him, on the ground, on anything he could manage. Amber eyes burned into the face of hell and incredibly, Gabriel’s snarling mouth seemed to be a madman’s smile.
The wooden spear began to crack under the wolf’s bite.
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A long time ago Gabriel had been arrogant. He was cruel and uncaring, a beast made up only to please his own whims. He had been formed out of two egos that were umatched in their time. He had been formed in sin and given his life through fire. Death had been following him since birth, since the time he had watched it come in the form of a crooked-toothed wolf and rip his brother apart while he still drew breath. When he had killed first, he had fled. When he had killed again, he had fled. He feared retribition as all boys do.
Then came the desert. At first he had feared it, for the unknown expanse of nothing was staggering. The sky pressed down from all corners and the sun burned his feet and boiled his blood. It had been the coyotes who had reminded him of his pride—why he had been hailed as a prophet not a year beforehand. Pride turned into arrogance, and it was arrogance that sought to destroy him. Battles were games. Then another wolf came. Gabriel did not remember his face anymore, but imagined it to look like Haku’s. The scar on his muzzle had reminded him he was mortal. So too had the fear.
Fear had stayed with him despite his denial of it. Now, though, there was no fear. There was a terrible hollow thing that focused his senses and moved his body. The weight of the blue-eyed demon was far too great and Gabriel fell. He landed hard on his back and felt white hot pain rush down his spine, but there was no time for pain. A monster was on him, a two-hundred pound beast that was nothing but muscle and tooth and claw. Gabriel’s ears fanned flat and buried themselves in his too-long hair, and his hands gripped the two ends of the spear and thrust the length of it back against a hungry maw. Both feet scrambled under the beast, seeking a grip on him, on the ground, on anything he could manage. Amber eyes burned into the face of hell and incredibly, Gabriel’s snarling mouth seemed to be a madman’s smile.
The wooden spear began to crack under the wolf’s bite.