Word Count → 1,121. Erm, I apologize for the length. orz; Wolfgang is in Optime form and along the Inferni-Dampwoods border.
Wolfgang would awake to soft ginger curls touching the tips of his black nose within his dazed state. His blue eyes would blink twice before they narrowed with a content grin upon his dark lips. His girl lay beside him, sleeping away deeply. His pink tongue would roll out from his lips to lick the top of them until he leaned forward, a hand brushing through her ginger hair and he kissed her cheek to which she hesitantly opened her eyes like a Princess being awakened by her Prince. Hushed, he whispered a ‘good morning’, to which she smiled and mumbled one sleepily back before rolling on her side, leaning her back onto the man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his nose between her ginger curls, breathing in her scent before he closed his eyes once more.
Those were the morning until recently. His eyes were drawn to slits as he turned his head to look up to the morning sky, the colors just changing from darkness into soft hues of blue and gold. Wolfgang was posed forward, his back upon a pine with his left knee perched up while the other leg laid flat against the ground. His left elbow leaned on his knee, his lips clenched shut, wrinkles under his eyes due to lack of sleep. He looked as if at any moment the man would fall over with the weakest gust of wind. Dangling from his left hand were blood worn bandages over his knuckle, then curling over the rest of this hand until it reached his wrist. The ends were loose and swayed gently in the wind. He leaned his head back, staring before him instead of the sky before he closed his eyes. He was not dreaming, nor was he calling for sleep to come to him. Merely, the hybrid was thinking. Thinking of what could possibly be with him in the future.
He drew back his lips, sneering slightly before he regained his composure. The Vorrakess were a stoic Kingdom, no expression was allowed to cross their lips. It was a forbidden, especially with a wolf in such a position as he. No, he was not the Crowned Prince. In truth, he wasn’t even very much a Prince. His father, Vorrakess Manuel, was the Duke. Wolfgang was his only child with his Second Wife, Karin. His Grandfather was Vorrakess Ekkehard, High King of Vorrakess. He led besides his Step-Grandmother. Yet, the peaceful times of Wolfgang’s birth were left behind quickly as the neighboring rogue Kingdom of Zheynche started war. The first attack had been an ambush. They had somehow tracked within the higher mountains of the Vorrakess territory before descending down into their city. The attack had cost them many men. And in return, the royal family mostly went into hiding. The old King, Ekkehard, however, charged off to war, leading his troops into battle without fail. While his grandfather was aged, none of Vorrakess could doubt his skill with the sword. It was skill that none of Vorrakess had seen before. His father, Manuel, took off to battle as well as the children – Princes and Princess – were captured like cattle to hide in a secret area.
It was then, within the cold cambers that he had to ultimately forget about his love, for she was not just a normal gal that could crawl into his arms. No, she was the wife of his uncle, Wolfram. He was the Crowned Prince, making her the future Queen of Vorrakess. Their affair was never surfaced to the world, but no matter how much he loved her, he could never completely have her. With his ears drawn back he spoke to his closet friend, a man named Klemens, who was also his beloved personal guard. With permission granted from the High King, he took off by horse, fleeing away from the Vorrakess Kingdom with the enemy hot on his trail. It was the perfect plan. He would sacrifice himself for the country and person he loved, and become a hero only by name. Yet, somehow amidst the plan, he lived and arrived in this place.
He drew in a deep breath, panting still from the running on foot when his steed had been shot down by arrow. A dark brown cloak over his body, a wound not bandaged on his shoulder and a deep cut on his right leg, just above the hock. All night, he ran. Only now did he sit to take in the full account of his wounds. His ears flicked back, his lips opening to help him breath. He pressed his hand on his cut. And after a few more minutes of resting, he hoisted himself up, his hands on the back of the tall pine until he could stand. The blood dripping down from his left shoulder and right leg onto the ground, he limped forward, walking in a slow pace. His right hand clenched his left shoulder. The area of the clock was soaked a darker color. His breath visible in the cold air and every five feet or so, he would turn and zigzag just in case the enemy was still on his trail. It didn’t matter much, as the blood drops were already a clean enough trail for them to follow. But he had seemingly lost them hours ago… near three am. Or perhaps they had given up.
Before him, pathways and trails curled around with the thick scent of a pack. Wolfgang was cautious, watching the area for any possible hostile movement. His vision, however began blur, white spots faded in and out. Narrowing his eyes, he moved his bloodied hand, wiping it on the ragged cloak before he backed to a tree. There was hope that the pack he had seemingly ended up on the border of was not hostile; that they were not allies somehow of the Zheynche clan… but then again, it would be a peaceful and quick end to the Prince. His body sank to sit along the roots of the tree, blood still freshly dripping as he eyed the skulls lining the border a dozen feet away. His breathing still heavy, heaving as if he could not swallow down a breath to keep his body pleased. His heart beat fast against his ribcage, but he didn’t dare call for those within the pack. No, for if the enemy was still searching, they would recognize his voice and they would crowd the border of the pack he was now at. Of course, there were only three… but it would cause unnecessarily trouble for them. And they could easily decide to feed Wolfgang to them without worry, or even join in for the kill.
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