The Truth about Justice

[Alaine Winters]

[html]

http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... _table.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;"> There was a persistent ringing in the child's ears, like the whine of a mosquito that no amount of twitching could dissuade. It was only after a moment of irritated curiosity the the droning turned into words, speech. This dawning of realization was quickly followed by a sharp poke to the ribs, by which Caillen was finally roused. His eyes, clear sky blue that was dappled slightly with red, lifted to the stranger and was struck in awe by miles and miles of golden fur. Fear was quick to follow - Mama had always told him to never, never, NEVER trust strangers, especially the ones who knew how to stand up straight on their back legs, like this mister was doing. Blinking warily, the whelp tried to sink back into his mother, his skinny little frame submerged in the silky fur of her ruff. But, undeterred, the stranger kept right on talking, and in spite of the weariness that pinched his sweet little face hollow, Caillen continued to listen. He needed... He needed his help? Blink, again, the fatigue stinging behind his eye-lids, small stomach rumbling in protest to the thrumming and droning in his little skull. Why would this mister need HIS help? He was just a little boy. But still, Mama had always told him to be polite. Besides, this mister didn't look all that strange to him. " M-m-my name is... Caillen. This is my m-m-mama." His voice was soft, the words broken by a thick stuttering that the child had had ever since he'd been able to talk. Alaine had told him not to be ashamed of it, but he had seen the way her eyes had shadowed when this speech flaw had never faded away. It made him self-conscious, and the weedy little pup frowned, shrank smaller before the stranger. " There is a bad m-m-m-m... Fellow, after us. But my Mama said t-t-that we would be alright, Mister. She's just s-s-s... Tired, thats all." As if in response, Alaine let loose a soft moan that died down to a thrumming in her throat. The wounds had grown scabby and festered on her beautiful pelt, but her paws twitched as if in her mind, they were still running away. Consciousness came fleetingly, her piercing emerald eyes rolling back down, heavily lidded as they stared through a fog of illness at the stranger that crouched low of her body. There was a spasm that shuddered through her famished frame, and as it continued along her body, but she did not move from the fetal position on the ground. Could not, perhaps. Her eyes were glazed and glossy as they lifted to the golden-pelted boy. " Please, don't hurt him... Please... Save my son..."

[/html]