01-02-2008, 11:41 PM
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As if racked by terrible pain, Phoenix curled his body tighter into itself and whimpered in agony. Yet his torment was not physical. Quite the contrary; he couldn’t be healthier. The source of his misery was something more unusual; it was psychic in nature. Even though Phoenix had become quite adept in using his strange sixth sense, he still didn’t fully understand why he could read minds or how. Nor, apparently, was he still fully in control of it. Occasionally his perceptiveness flared and he lost control. At those times his mind began reaching out, searching for something to connect with, and no matter how hard he tried he could not real himself back in. Usually he had to concentrate to read someone else’s mind; right now he was putting as much focus into not connecting with anything. Unfortunately, when this happened it was always a losing battle. He had woken up in the morning with the shock of memories not his own; he saw himself towering over his children through their eyes, he felt his mate’s resentments and fears. He even felt the thrill of flight from some kind of bird taking off from the tree outside his den. He’d gotten out of there as quickly as he could, heading north and taking the long route out of Storm to avoid violating any of his pack mates’ minds. Whimpering and staggering all the way, he finally reached his destination, an area of the valley where few wolves bothered to tread. Now that he was here he could only hope that no one else ventured within range until the maelstrom in his head died down. He felt so helpless. |