07-26-2009, 07:58 PM
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The towering gray hybrid jerked around at the voice. Light blue eyes darted quickly to the red gaze that stood out so drastically in the dead landscape. Though his heart skipped several beats, Warren merely drew back his ears slightly and took a few steps away from the beast, for his sudden appearance also alerted the hybrid to the scent that lingered all around him: coyote. And there it was, that irrational fear. His memory fell into a timeless flurry of scenes and feelings, and the entire time terror was on his tongue like sea water. A second later, however, Warren cleared his throat and gave a half-smile, showing no sign of his inner chaos. "Yes, I suppose we are," he said, glancing back at the row of skulls. Warren did not believe in Hell—at least, not as most imagined it. He liked to think that the bad got what was due them when they died, and did not share the afterlife with the good. Who the judge was, Warren was uncertain of. Nevertheless, the hybrid figured the land beyond the morbid perimeter could pass for Hell, depending on how you looked at it. "I always thought there would be more fire and brimstone," he mused, turning a wary eye back to the stranger. Though the other's scent did not match that of the territory further up, Warren had a suspicion that he belonged there. |
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