let them see your black heart, baby

Micah Sunrise Lykoi · 03-11-2011, 04:21 PM

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For any and all of you that want to jump in. Smile

He'd broken off from them long before, though still after two of his sisters had already gone. Sage was the first, wasn't she? He couldn't remember why the eldest sister had so desired to break from the pack she loved so much, though she had always been the one with the most logic, he believed — other than himself, of course. China had been next, polite and prompt in her departure, most likely to follow after her eldest sister's footsteps. He and Clover had remained, for the longest time, brother and sister; he had been more bonded to she than all the rest, and that included the whole of Juniper Peace, for there he had never belonged at all.

No, Clover had been "Ocean's Girl" after her two sisters had gone. There was no talk of Razekiel, no concern as to what came of him and his relation to the alphas or Storm Lily. All that was heard of him was "Razekiel's Boy," when they looked at Micah, with suspicion in their smoke-clouded eyes. He had never been his mother's son like Clover, for he had never taken up their ways of peace and love and sex. No, he would not fool himself into such fantasies. There was war in every soul, and to believe all would be right under the protection of a false earth mother was no more than sheer idiocy.

And yet he had been the last to leave them. He was a coward. His sisters had all moved on to better things, most likely together, and had not looked back at their idiot little brother who wasn't like them. He missed them, indeed, like he missed their mother, but their ways he did not. Micah was not one of them. Micah was not his mother's son, and not his father's son, either.

Micah was not a murderer, like he.

Now he had grown, over a full year; he was thin, tall and long as his minor wolven genetics allowed, but thin and gangly like the coyotes his father so loved. There had been a snowstorm some weeks past where he had spent several days trapped and starving; as a result he had thinned out considerably since, but hardly enough to grow concerned for his own health. Dusk hung overhead, painting the winter sky pinks and purples, a sight Micah did not drink in like his sisters might. Nose at the ground, the male tracked his way in and out of trees, following a scent he vaguely thought he knew, but did not hold any hopes about. He'd meandered about for some time, months even, in search of nothing in particular but a place to eat and sleep on each passing day.

Chocolate eyes on the ground, he paused only when his nose tapped against a stake. Eyes ran up the length of it, freezing at the skull on its tip, and instantaneously the male backed up quickly, mouth agape, ears flipped, tail between his legs. What kind of loonies ran this place? Ducking into the bushes, the male quickly shifted into his two-legged for, deciding it best should he run into someone, and continued following the scent in winding trails, the skull-tipped stakes yet always in view.

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