03-10-2009, 10:41 AM
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500+
It drizzled lightly in the early dawn, and the world lay in a blanket of greys and blues. It was cold, but the air was still, and the bite of winter’s dying teeth was lessened. It was silent, and the world was filled with a simple profundity. The forest and the glade seemed empty, but the earth welcomed the form of a black warrior who shared the blue patterns of the earth upon her fur and the light of the moon in her eyes.
Cwmfen stood within the center of the glade. The white orbs gazed slowly about in that calculating way, and she remembered that, only weeks before, she had practiced here the passions of her life. Her soul remembered. Her body remembered. The woad banded toes inched forward as she remembered there, wishing that her body would be ready for such things once more, rising stronger than she had been so that defeat may teach and strengthen her body and resolve. But she knew with a certainty that it was too early. The orbs turned earthward as a soft sigh escaped the woman’s maw as she accepted that fact, and it rose like a cloud to the heavens, slowly before dissipating in the cold, wet air. Her fur was damp as it clung to her body, but the down near her skin was dry and warm. The long scar down her back rose visibly now, a sure reminder of what carelessness could do. Her gaze lifted to the heavens at the sound of the crow’s voice, and she felt as if that sound of death were mocking her and her frustration. She found no solace in that Raven, and she felt no longer that it was a part of her Dream. Perhaps it had been, but the pied Raven seemed to grow distant and yet too near all at once.
The woad warrior reached back, touching gently that scar upon her back. It had healed well with her patience, and it no longer tugged with an urgency when she moved. Perhaps she could shift down to her lupus form and avoid the temptations of her optime. Perhaps it was too early, but idleness made her impatient. Gathering up her will and energy, the female willed her body to change in that strange and unnatural way of the luperci. Like the wind and water. The black fae’s form began to melt and change, but suddenly, there was a pain, and it shot out in every wound that the coyote had given to her. The warrior cried out, and her will was broken as she fell panting to the earth. She growled at herself for her impatience as she slowly lay herself in the wet grass that cradled her form. The woad warrior admitted her defeat and the price of her impatience as the wound on her back split to give up some of her life to the earth.
Her fist still clenched the tuft of fur she had found near the lake, and it held within it the scent of that stranger who had sought to take her life.
500+
It drizzled lightly in the early dawn, and the world lay in a blanket of greys and blues. It was cold, but the air was still, and the bite of winter’s dying teeth was lessened. It was silent, and the world was filled with a simple profundity. The forest and the glade seemed empty, but the earth welcomed the form of a black warrior who shared the blue patterns of the earth upon her fur and the light of the moon in her eyes.
Cwmfen stood within the center of the glade. The white orbs gazed slowly about in that calculating way, and she remembered that, only weeks before, she had practiced here the passions of her life. Her soul remembered. Her body remembered. The woad banded toes inched forward as she remembered there, wishing that her body would be ready for such things once more, rising stronger than she had been so that defeat may teach and strengthen her body and resolve. But she knew with a certainty that it was too early. The orbs turned earthward as a soft sigh escaped the woman’s maw as she accepted that fact, and it rose like a cloud to the heavens, slowly before dissipating in the cold, wet air. Her fur was damp as it clung to her body, but the down near her skin was dry and warm. The long scar down her back rose visibly now, a sure reminder of what carelessness could do. Her gaze lifted to the heavens at the sound of the crow’s voice, and she felt as if that sound of death were mocking her and her frustration. She found no solace in that Raven, and she felt no longer that it was a part of her Dream. Perhaps it had been, but the pied Raven seemed to grow distant and yet too near all at once.
The woad warrior reached back, touching gently that scar upon her back. It had healed well with her patience, and it no longer tugged with an urgency when she moved. Perhaps she could shift down to her lupus form and avoid the temptations of her optime. Perhaps it was too early, but idleness made her impatient. Gathering up her will and energy, the female willed her body to change in that strange and unnatural way of the luperci. Like the wind and water. The black fae’s form began to melt and change, but suddenly, there was a pain, and it shot out in every wound that the coyote had given to her. The warrior cried out, and her will was broken as she fell panting to the earth. She growled at herself for her impatience as she slowly lay herself in the wet grass that cradled her form. The woad warrior admitted her defeat and the price of her impatience as the wound on her back split to give up some of her life to the earth.
Her fist still clenched the tuft of fur she had found near the lake, and it held within it the scent of that stranger who had sought to take her life.