Stories are just words without meaning.
#9
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OOC: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed reading that. It's strange, I'm finally piecing together what happened. ^_^




Perhaps the two were more alike than Lubomir cared to consider. Of course, he thought Skoll was in many ways his superior, a stronger wolf, a fighter, a protector. Lubomir looked up to the yellow wolf in much the same way he had done to Keiro, not for his strength alone, but for the way he chose to employ it. He listened to Skoll, he almost deferred unconsciously, out of a deep sense of respect. Where Lubomir had chosen the path of flight, the other would have stayed to fight and perhaps even died along with his pack. He listened intently to the yellow wolf and found himself nodding. 'It could be that you are right, Skoll. Like I said, I was attacked from behind and perhaps indeed knocked out. Though why I am alive today remains a mystery to me.' He paused. Tough? Lubomir could hardly consider himself a warrior, a hunter and were it not for his talent and his ability to read and write, he doubted he would be much of an addition to any pack. The next few statements, however, threw him off completely. He could not imagine Skoll dying. The mere thought was enough to make him feel ill. A strong wolf like him, hacked to pieces?




'I do not know what Tayui would do, but I could not live with the thought of someone dying in a pack yet again, Skoll. Call me a fool, but perhaps I would go after the one who killed you. Perhaps you do not see yourself as I do, but you certainly are no failure. You are stronger than I could ever dream of being and you protect the lives of those who live here. Death is not release by any means, nor is life a fetter. I would do my utmost to destroy those who take you away from Shadowed Sun.' There was raw passion in Lubomir's voice now and his eyes had almost a manic glint in them. He took a deep breath and steadied his heart beats, ready to resume his story. Right. Great Frozen Plains.




'I ate for the first time in days at the edge of one of the last cities. I scraped by, ashamed of what I looked like and afraid of meeting Frigg's children. I did not know where they were and I could not bring myself to explain that their parents were dead and I, of all in the pack, had survived. I shifted into Optime form and scavenged what I could. The Old Country was a cursed place to me now and I would turn East. I do not know why I chose thus and did not go West. Perhaps because the rising Sun gave me strength and purpose, it hallowed my journey. Whatever the reason, I made haste and a little while later, I changed back to my four-legged state and, holding the bag in my mouth, started my journey. The Great Frozen Plains begin after one crosses a sheer mountain range. Before that, hunting is good and the lands are plentiful. Many packs make their homes before this mountain range. But after... after one crosses, Skoll, there is endless snow, bitter cold and scarce meat. My reserves did not last long. Oh, there are elk and rabbits, but I cannot take on elk on my own and the rabbits there are more cunning than the ones I had known. The pack lands are few and far between, but the territories are bigger, though the number of wolves in each pack is smaller.' Lubomir drew another breath and carried on, 'For many turnings of the moon I saw no wolf there. At times, I thought I would lie down and let my bones rot in that wilderness but something drove me on. I do not know how I survived, on what little food I could catch. I also knew nothing of what lay on the other side of the Great Frozen Plains or whether I would make it there. And then, Skoll, I came across the most gruesome scene in my life: a pack torturing an innocent puppy.' He stopped. Perhaps Skoll would not care to listen to more tales of blood and meaningless murder.




707 words. I'll mark thread as mature, for the mention of blood and torture
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