08-20-2009, 10:54 PM
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| http://digital-bonsai.com/katew/rp/kae/kae_jaws.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:221px; padding-left:25px; padding-right:25px; padding-bottom:10px;"> The first three paragraphs are flashblack/dreams. ^_^ ♥ for replying. The coyote was young again, whole—she walked along the old beach with her head held high. She did not yet possess the crown of Inferni—but then again, her happiest moments were in no way connected to leadership of the coyote clan. No, this was long before the word "Aquila" had ever even passed her lips. There were children surrounding her, all eight of them. This was when they were very young, before Baneesh died and Gabriel left, before Ikatha was killed. They were still ungainly and small, flipping over each other and tumbling here and there in the sand. Their tiny paws weren't made to walk on sand, but even then, Kaena had known these small things would make them stronger. The hybrid woman continued on this way for a moment, her children bunched tightly around her feet. Several feet in front of them, there he was—the golden-furred man with those blood-red eyes. He was dead now, yes, but for those moments of black unconsciousness, he was still alive and whole. The children surged forward in front of her, all of them barreling toward Ahren in one stumbling, awkward heap. A chorus of happy yips and yowls rang out from the puppies as they saw their father, and the hybrid woman smiled, halting a few feet in front of him. The sand was hot beneath her feet, the ocean raging just behind her. The salty breeze licked at her fur and tousled it this way and that. Once the initial excitement of seeing Father had worn off, the children broke off into groups, a few of them play-wrestling while others explored. Even as the grizzled hybrid stalked to Ahren's side and sat next to him, her single golden eye roved over all of the children again and again, silently and swiftly counting eight heads, as if to cease counting would make one of them disappear. Though she was nearing five years old, Kaena Lykoi was still a young mother. There was much she had to learn about caring for children, and that had given her to over-protectiveness and paranoia. The gray-furred woman settled down by Ahren's side, both of them silent and content to simply watch as their children played and romped. There was a deep, contented sigh from the hybrid woman, and she leaned closer to him, pressing her head against his body, nuzzling her nose up to his cold skin. Cold? Her scarred head jerked back, and there was nothing in his place. Her children were gone, and so was the greenery and wonder of life surrounding their territory—burned to ash and nothing by the fire. Fear gripped the coyote in an instant, and she dashed forward, looking wildly for her children and Ahren. There was nothing, just the charred remnants of what once was. There was warmth against her cheek, and cool over her body, as if it was raining. The coyote stirred, feeling as lethargic as if she had just slept for days. There were hands on her, somewhere, pressing painfully against her neck. A snarl of sallow teeth showed momentarily as the coyote turned in half-consciousness on her attacker, her head falling to the ground only halfway into striking whoever or whatever was near her. There was pain, and it was all that registered on the hybrid's mind. Her conscious had failed her again, however, and as soon as she had stirred and lifted her head she was gone again, drifting off. This time, there were no dreams, just darkness. There was a voice, faintly calling her name—pulling her back from the other side steadily. Her eagle's eye flared open, darting around and searching for that chocolate wolf again. Instead of baby blues, the coyote saw only familiar red, blinking rapidly as she focused. Memory and consciousness flew back into her head in a moment, and the coyote knew it was Jezebel. She was safe now—there was only a soft whine from her throat, wordless thanks for the woman who had found her here. |