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Eternity is like the Ocean...
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Another chill wind nipped at the black-dappled fur. The off-white of the beasts pelt was matched only by the dreary watercolor of the flurries that swirled around him as his steps brought him to the forest's edge. Frozen earth beneath frozen paws, Orca's thoughts were drawn ever back to the pulsing throb and sting in his shoulder. The cold air did nothing for the injury and it seemed even the earth had no sympathy for him as his paws, numb from travel and cold, scraped tender-made pads against the ground. The gash, now crusted with dark dried blood, pulsed with the beat of his own heart, and an impossibly hot burning made the flesh on his shoulder irritated and swollen. Still... the wind was cold.
Orca relished at the thought of a warm den tucked away somewhere within the rocks and dirt of the mountain. But such thoughts were just fantasies... With the time it would take to dig a den, the night would come and the flurries would pass. Besides, Orca would have rather lain on the frozen ground, as tired as he was.
Orca's nostrils flares for a moment, taking in the urine scents of the border-marking. His blue-streaked muzzle, tucked low to keep the wind from cutting at his eyes, lifted momentarily to take in the fullness of the land. He could smell the mountain itself, all the wolves that came and went there and smelled alike, all the trees and earth and rock. It was a scent as pleasured as a cool breeze on a humid August day.
The male's cerulean eyes wandered across the timberline, seeking the watchful form of the scout who patrolled the borders. Whether there was a wolf, in wait, watching him Orca wasn't aware. But for the moment he saw nothing but the trees that steadily darkened as the sun made it journey towards the horizon. A snow-frosted wind blew across him, tiny frozen beads of mist splintering in his flesh. His eyes searched desperately for the patroll. Silent. Waiting.
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it can be cruel and beautiful at the same time. |
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