06-14-2009, 12:18 AM
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That's okay!
500+
"As much as we would like to blame an individual for the start of something like a war, it is impossible," the warrior replied gently. "Your grandmother and the revenge of Haku may have been the catalyst, but there were many things that could have been done to prevent war." The leaders should have expressed more severely that there should be no attacks in times of tension. The individuals who had acted as a catalyst should have restrained themselves, should have turned to someone else for guidance first. "I do not know much of the war. But I know that one must also remember peace in times of war, and war in times of peace." As a simple creature that lived for that thrill of battle and war, the thrill of Death chasing at her heels, she would have loved to fight in the war, and she would have done so for Cercelee had the time been right. But she had entered at the end. She remembered thinking how it would have been nice to be able to fight.... Her duty, however, was not to begin wars but to protect the pack, to prevent war through violence. It was ironic, but she did it without question and with passion.
The white orbs turned back to the golden coyote. "Do not be eager to engage in battle. Warriors do not pick fights—we allow the fights to choose us, and we fight where we are needed, not when we need them."
The woman paused. It was strange how that question had arisen once before not too long ago, and the woman wondered what it must mean. "I do," she said at length, her voice quiet. "For the first year of my life, she was the only other wolf that I knew aside from my father." Her eyes looked into the distance, as if reminiscing upon some distant memory that was pulled in from the blue haze of the far-away. "She was gentle and loving.... It was—" The woman struggled with the right words to express her idea. "Comfortable," she said with a sigh, but she knew that that was not quite the proper words. With a soft smile and a quiet laughter in her eyes, she turned back to the boy. "She was able to give me what I needed before she was killed." Corvus had given that to her as well, but it had been rougher, silent and unforgiving. And he had been unkind to her body when she had fled. But Corvus had otherwise never harmed her—it was strange. She remembered now that he had always been careful. "But she exists only as a memory now, and I have accepted that."
"What about you?" the woman asked suddenly, that melody still gentle. "I’ve heard about your father, and I have met him. But I have not met your mother...." And the warrior wondered also whether the question about her own mother had arisen from a desire that had been felt within himself.
That's okay!
500+
"As much as we would like to blame an individual for the start of something like a war, it is impossible," the warrior replied gently. "Your grandmother and the revenge of Haku may have been the catalyst, but there were many things that could have been done to prevent war." The leaders should have expressed more severely that there should be no attacks in times of tension. The individuals who had acted as a catalyst should have restrained themselves, should have turned to someone else for guidance first. "I do not know much of the war. But I know that one must also remember peace in times of war, and war in times of peace." As a simple creature that lived for that thrill of battle and war, the thrill of Death chasing at her heels, she would have loved to fight in the war, and she would have done so for Cercelee had the time been right. But she had entered at the end. She remembered thinking how it would have been nice to be able to fight.... Her duty, however, was not to begin wars but to protect the pack, to prevent war through violence. It was ironic, but she did it without question and with passion.
The white orbs turned back to the golden coyote. "Do not be eager to engage in battle. Warriors do not pick fights—we allow the fights to choose us, and we fight where we are needed, not when we need them."
The woman paused. It was strange how that question had arisen once before not too long ago, and the woman wondered what it must mean. "I do," she said at length, her voice quiet. "For the first year of my life, she was the only other wolf that I knew aside from my father." Her eyes looked into the distance, as if reminiscing upon some distant memory that was pulled in from the blue haze of the far-away. "She was gentle and loving.... It was—" The woman struggled with the right words to express her idea. "Comfortable," she said with a sigh, but she knew that that was not quite the proper words. With a soft smile and a quiet laughter in her eyes, she turned back to the boy. "She was able to give me what I needed before she was killed." Corvus had given that to her as well, but it had been rougher, silent and unforgiving. And he had been unkind to her body when she had fled. But Corvus had otherwise never harmed her—it was strange. She remembered now that he had always been careful. "But she exists only as a memory now, and I have accepted that."
"What about you?" the woman asked suddenly, that melody still gentle. "I’ve heard about your father, and I have met him. But I have not met your mother...." And the warrior wondered also whether the question about her own mother had arisen from a desire that had been felt within himself.