11-27-2009, 12:49 AM
I tend to just go with the flow, lol.
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Snake had grown up rough, in a city full of wolves that decided their places in society by how much they could be violent to their competitors. His ‘father’ had been the leader of all of that chaos, and had instilled it in his assumed children. He had urged Foxhound and Snake into prematurely shifting, a month before the proper time. And in that confusion of switching bodies for the first time, he had placed a knife into Foxhound’s hand and asked him who would be the superior brother. It was this situation that Snake had to thank for the scar that lingered on his ribs. He had been tempered by the pain, and he had been tempered by the omnipresent fear. He was supposed to be the ideal warrior now, a soldier hand-made by Patriot himself. He didn’t feel surprise.
At least, he didn’t think he did. But when the body of the light-furred wolf contorted and suddenly sprung at him, he started. He tried to step backwards quickly, to avoid the pouncing wolf, but the loose autumn leaves slipped beneath his paws. He fell, but it was in these milliseconds that his training came back to him. Suddenly his twin brother’s form replaced that of the white-furred, red-haired woman. He was taken back to their fights so many months ago—Foxhound, the stronger of the two, had often pushed Snake just as he was falling now. He knew what to do.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, lifting his fists to that they covered his face. He managed to tuck his legs up underneath him, ready to kick at whatever came towards him. And he would have done so to his assailant if he hadn’t hit his head on a leaf-covered rock on the way down. The breath was knocked out of him, and he saw stars. Momentarily stunned, and at the mercy of whatever this crazed creature was.
Snake had grown up rough, in a city full of wolves that decided their places in society by how much they could be violent to their competitors. His ‘father’ had been the leader of all of that chaos, and had instilled it in his assumed children. He had urged Foxhound and Snake into prematurely shifting, a month before the proper time. And in that confusion of switching bodies for the first time, he had placed a knife into Foxhound’s hand and asked him who would be the superior brother. It was this situation that Snake had to thank for the scar that lingered on his ribs. He had been tempered by the pain, and he had been tempered by the omnipresent fear. He was supposed to be the ideal warrior now, a soldier hand-made by Patriot himself. He didn’t feel surprise.
At least, he didn’t think he did. But when the body of the light-furred wolf contorted and suddenly sprung at him, he started. He tried to step backwards quickly, to avoid the pouncing wolf, but the loose autumn leaves slipped beneath his paws. He fell, but it was in these milliseconds that his training came back to him. Suddenly his twin brother’s form replaced that of the white-furred, red-haired woman. He was taken back to their fights so many months ago—Foxhound, the stronger of the two, had often pushed Snake just as he was falling now. He knew what to do.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, lifting his fists to that they covered his face. He managed to tuck his legs up underneath him, ready to kick at whatever came towards him. And he would have done so to his assailant if he hadn’t hit his head on a leaf-covered rock on the way down. The breath was knocked out of him, and he saw stars. Momentarily stunned, and at the mercy of whatever this crazed creature was.
table credit goes to jacoby
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