07-08-2009, 07:30 PM
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| http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v228/ ... 1247095913); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:10px; padding-left:25px; padding-right:25px; padding-bottom:298px;"> 1. Molochai de Odi Lykoi 2. August 30th 2005 3. Luperci Orctus 4. 62.5% Canis lupus ortus, 25% Canis latrans ortus, 12.5% Canis familiaris ortus 5. Male 6. MSN: obi_15@hotmail.com AIM: tattered fiend It had taken almost two full weeks of constant searching to find the scent trail that eventually led him back. He had abandoned the thought of these lands since he had left - no fled - to find sanctuary elsewhere. The sanctuary had been a comfortable den away from the packs, vermin wolves and memories that seemed to flood him. Yet even after he figured he was safe he couldn't escape the nightmares that plagued him whenever he shut his golden eyes. Wolves dying, which was fine, and then fires and hellish screams that sounded so close to home. The smoke suffocated him whenever he tried to take a breath and those dreams always ended with the wolves that he had taught the pups to torment, turning into the pups themselves. Freud would have been happy to take the creature as a patient. His life had become a simple one, devoid of everything but the basic needs to kill and eat and to sleep to rest for the next days hunt. Often he came home with nothing, those were long days when even the most sluggish vole escaped his jaws. Those days were penance for things he did that he didn't believe were wrong. His subconscious apparently had another idea. One of those many months was marked by a fall, and even now as he traced his beloved mother's scent to the place where Inferni now lay its borders he limped. The limp was gone as a fully-shifted Optime, relegated to his left arm but his strength was weak enough that shifting often took everything he had. When you were by yourself you couldn't afford to be showy and weak, he knew that well from his days training the youngsters that now as adults bore the Lykoi name. What would Mother think of him? Why was he tracing her scent when he had been a coward for so long? Moonlight colored fur bristled slightly at the wolf skulls bordering Inferni lines, the darkness and shadows playing havoc on his eyes. No, it was just a skull, another trophy to show the world the coyote would always triumph over wolf. Scarred muzzle and limbs tensed momentarily as the clouds cast the moonlight on another and he pondered again what he was doing here. "Let this make the nightmares end." He quietly spoke, barely a hush amongst the sounds of night and darkness. His leg tired and still slightly sore where the bone had been reset, he laid down and waited. It seemed Molochai did a lot of waiting in a life that was supposed to be his own. |