04-13-2008, 05:50 PM
He was losing it all over again. Phoenix could sense it. One by one, he was losing everything—his health, his mate, his children… even his home. But the aches in his body didn’t even compare with the aches of his heart. He had been asleep as Skoll dragged him out of his den and away from the fire, but as he awoke he realized Icarus hadn’t been behind them, and it was too late to go back. As soon as he was able to, though, Phoenix took his other two sons to go search for Icarus. But Phoenix already knew in the back of his mind that his son hadn’t made it. Phoenix could sense the void in his heart, but he had to make sure that his telepathy wasn’t just playing a dirty trick on him, see it with his own eyes. Kansas and Moon deserved to do this with him as well, but he had insisted Ember stay behind in the temporary care of Pilot. He didn’t want any gruesome sights haunting his baby girl.
Wearily Phoenix trudged through the charred landscape that he was pretty sure had once been his home. Nothing remained in their den, not even the photos he had taken of his family—the one of Iskata sitting on her favorite sunning rock, Sun and Moon the day he had brought them home, his and Iskata’s litter the day they had been born. All gone. He still had the memories, but he still felt like he had lost a major portion of his life. He was weary, not just in body, but in spirit. He knew nothing in life lasted, but he had expected to at least live the rest of his life here, and eventually die surrounded by his children and grandchildren and be buried in these lands. But life had given him another reminder than he could plan for nothing. Phoenix gagged as he repressed the urge to weep. His sons needed him to be strong for them, but Phoenix didn’t know how much more loss he could take.
Amongst the stench of the charred landscape it was hard to make out anything. The scavengers and raiders counted on this as they moved about stealthily, searching for stragglers to prey on. Phoenix’s gait was that of an old man, slow and tired. An adolescent and a stocky male looked strong, but not much of a challenge. They were exactly what the raiders were looking for, and as soon as their leader signaled, they descended upon the trio like lightning on a metal pole. Phoenix in his halfling form was still a force to be reckoned with, and though he didn’t know who these wolves were, it was obvious they were not friendly and instantly Phoenix slipped into defend mode to protect his sons. He leapt up, biting one in the neck and feeling the life drain from it within a few seconds. Kansas screamed; Moon tried to fight back as well but was pinned down under a net. Two more leapt on Phoenix and clubbed him behind the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. Moon was not a fighter and quickly subdued as well.
“What do we do with this one?” one of them hissed, kicking Phoenix in the ribs. “He killed Stonehenge. We should pay for that.”
“No,” their leader declared. “He was only defending himself—you would have done the same. Besides, if he is as zealous about the safety of his comrades as he seems to be, the agony of awakening with them gone should be more agonizing than death. Still…” The leader bent down and paused when he took a closer look at Phoenix. There was something familiar about this wolf…
“What are you waiting for, Anubis?”
Anubis didn’t realize it, but as he plunged his knife into the brunneous male to mar the lightning-bolt tattoo on his haunch, he was cutting the flesh of his own son. “That should give him something to remember us by,” he said as he picked up Kansas and hoisted none other than his grandson over his shoulders. “Grab the other whelp and let’s go.”
***
Phoenix awoke an hour later, feeling the tang of his own blood in his mouth. But that was ignored when he saw his sons were missing. “Kansas!? MOON!?” he screamed. But the scents in the air were still strong, and Phoenix instantly took off, following the trail and ignoring the pain in his side. His wounds were unimportant compared with what was taken from him. He paused a minute to look back at the mountain where his friends were taking refuge. Perhaps he should go back to get help, but there was no time. It was now or never. He only had time to howl a message in the vain hope that it would somehow resonate far enough to someone who could then deliver the message to Skoll or Pilot before turning around and chasing his sons’ capturers. Ember would be all right in Pilot’s care until he got back… if he ever did.
This was not the end of Phoenix’s story. The end of his tale in Bleeding Souls, perhaps, but certainly not the end of his life. It was a new beginning, and like he always did, he would arise anew from the ashes of his old life. He didn’t know it at the time—one rarely did when great change was upon them—but he was about to engage in his greatest adventure yet.
Wearily Phoenix trudged through the charred landscape that he was pretty sure had once been his home. Nothing remained in their den, not even the photos he had taken of his family—the one of Iskata sitting on her favorite sunning rock, Sun and Moon the day he had brought them home, his and Iskata’s litter the day they had been born. All gone. He still had the memories, but he still felt like he had lost a major portion of his life. He was weary, not just in body, but in spirit. He knew nothing in life lasted, but he had expected to at least live the rest of his life here, and eventually die surrounded by his children and grandchildren and be buried in these lands. But life had given him another reminder than he could plan for nothing. Phoenix gagged as he repressed the urge to weep. His sons needed him to be strong for them, but Phoenix didn’t know how much more loss he could take.
Amongst the stench of the charred landscape it was hard to make out anything. The scavengers and raiders counted on this as they moved about stealthily, searching for stragglers to prey on. Phoenix’s gait was that of an old man, slow and tired. An adolescent and a stocky male looked strong, but not much of a challenge. They were exactly what the raiders were looking for, and as soon as their leader signaled, they descended upon the trio like lightning on a metal pole. Phoenix in his halfling form was still a force to be reckoned with, and though he didn’t know who these wolves were, it was obvious they were not friendly and instantly Phoenix slipped into defend mode to protect his sons. He leapt up, biting one in the neck and feeling the life drain from it within a few seconds. Kansas screamed; Moon tried to fight back as well but was pinned down under a net. Two more leapt on Phoenix and clubbed him behind the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. Moon was not a fighter and quickly subdued as well.
“What do we do with this one?” one of them hissed, kicking Phoenix in the ribs. “He killed Stonehenge. We should pay for that.”
“No,” their leader declared. “He was only defending himself—you would have done the same. Besides, if he is as zealous about the safety of his comrades as he seems to be, the agony of awakening with them gone should be more agonizing than death. Still…” The leader bent down and paused when he took a closer look at Phoenix. There was something familiar about this wolf…
“What are you waiting for, Anubis?”
Anubis didn’t realize it, but as he plunged his knife into the brunneous male to mar the lightning-bolt tattoo on his haunch, he was cutting the flesh of his own son. “That should give him something to remember us by,” he said as he picked up Kansas and hoisted none other than his grandson over his shoulders. “Grab the other whelp and let’s go.”
***
Phoenix awoke an hour later, feeling the tang of his own blood in his mouth. But that was ignored when he saw his sons were missing. “Kansas!? MOON!?” he screamed. But the scents in the air were still strong, and Phoenix instantly took off, following the trail and ignoring the pain in his side. His wounds were unimportant compared with what was taken from him. He paused a minute to look back at the mountain where his friends were taking refuge. Perhaps he should go back to get help, but there was no time. It was now or never. He only had time to howl a message in the vain hope that it would somehow resonate far enough to someone who could then deliver the message to Skoll or Pilot before turning around and chasing his sons’ capturers. Ember would be all right in Pilot’s care until he got back… if he ever did.
This was not the end of Phoenix’s story. The end of his tale in Bleeding Souls, perhaps, but certainly not the end of his life. It was a new beginning, and like he always did, he would arise anew from the ashes of his old life. He didn’t know it at the time—one rarely did when great change was upon them—but he was about to engage in his greatest adventure yet.