06-18-2009, 03:43 PM
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611.
In the last moments of that ascension, she cried out—not for him, but for herself. The sensation was overwhelming, as it had been so long since she had felt such a thing. As she reached that peak she began to float. Her body went limp and was no longer her own. She was only vaguely aware of his claws cutting into her neck. Then she was a part of the earth again and the crow wolf was gone. Her eyes opened to watch him leave, and a terrible and wicked smile crossed her face. Whatever he thought he had gained was for naught; he had wanted her soul, but another man had taken it while she was a child. Now, though, she had what she wanted.
Aurèle felt the weight of the earth under her once more, and this time it sought to pull her down completely. So she shut her eyes and exhaled, body where the crow-wolf had left it. She could smell the earth and the tall grass, and further from this the clean water running nearby. All around her the landscape was speaking; birds called to one another, and the rumble of thunder in the distance warned her that time in the open was running short. She cared not for the warning, and instead found one sound overpowering. A crow, laughing. Its voice grew repetitive, timed. Even as she attempted to focus on the source, the weight of her bones was dragging her mind further towards the earth. Then there were no other sounds.
She fell into sleep with the crow’s voice in her skull. It began to echo, frantically. The dream-world was empty and black, and broken as the last half-hour replayed. Again, the crow-wolf raped her, and again she rippled with pleasure and pain. Then, suddenly, he was not with her but another woman, the red wolf with the scarred face, and the thin wolf was screaming as Aurèle had cried out and the man remained emotionless. She vanished, and another woman came—but her face and body were indistinguishable. This time, though, the crow-wolf laughed. Then his throat was cut open and the darkness was flooded with crimson. Aurèle’s fur was saturated and the smell of iron overpowered the still-lingering scent of sex and the stranger.
The crow laughed again. It flew out of the darkness, a shape of iridescent black and white, and circled her. The woman snarled and her hand flew up, but so coated in blood as it was it was slowed, and she missed the bird. Red dots marred its white breast, and then it rushed forward and seemed to grow to immense proportion. Aurèle panicked, and felt fear flood her, but she did not scream. Instead, she let out a terrible roar, and the crow collided with her body and she felt its talons cut the back of her neck, but its feathers were being torn from its body and falling all around her—
Aurèle woke suddenly, in the wake of rain. The summer storm had come quickly, and now broken. It was pouring, and soaking her fur. She quickly made the shift to her lupus form, feeling the dull burn of the scars against her neck, and grunted. Still, the smile remained on her face. Even though she had no proof yet, she knew. She was immortal. The smile vanished suddenly as a noise broke her thoughts; a crow, calling out. Aurèle’s head turned sharply, and found the pied bird perched nearby. She frowned and pinned her ears, then quickly turned and began to head towards Aniwaya. Behind her, the persistent bird followed, though it was now silent.
In the last moments of that ascension, she cried out—not for him, but for herself. The sensation was overwhelming, as it had been so long since she had felt such a thing. As she reached that peak she began to float. Her body went limp and was no longer her own. She was only vaguely aware of his claws cutting into her neck. Then she was a part of the earth again and the crow wolf was gone. Her eyes opened to watch him leave, and a terrible and wicked smile crossed her face. Whatever he thought he had gained was for naught; he had wanted her soul, but another man had taken it while she was a child. Now, though, she had what she wanted.
Aurèle felt the weight of the earth under her once more, and this time it sought to pull her down completely. So she shut her eyes and exhaled, body where the crow-wolf had left it. She could smell the earth and the tall grass, and further from this the clean water running nearby. All around her the landscape was speaking; birds called to one another, and the rumble of thunder in the distance warned her that time in the open was running short. She cared not for the warning, and instead found one sound overpowering. A crow, laughing. Its voice grew repetitive, timed. Even as she attempted to focus on the source, the weight of her bones was dragging her mind further towards the earth. Then there were no other sounds.
She fell into sleep with the crow’s voice in her skull. It began to echo, frantically. The dream-world was empty and black, and broken as the last half-hour replayed. Again, the crow-wolf raped her, and again she rippled with pleasure and pain. Then, suddenly, he was not with her but another woman, the red wolf with the scarred face, and the thin wolf was screaming as Aurèle had cried out and the man remained emotionless. She vanished, and another woman came—but her face and body were indistinguishable. This time, though, the crow-wolf laughed. Then his throat was cut open and the darkness was flooded with crimson. Aurèle’s fur was saturated and the smell of iron overpowered the still-lingering scent of sex and the stranger.
The crow laughed again. It flew out of the darkness, a shape of iridescent black and white, and circled her. The woman snarled and her hand flew up, but so coated in blood as it was it was slowed, and she missed the bird. Red dots marred its white breast, and then it rushed forward and seemed to grow to immense proportion. Aurèle panicked, and felt fear flood her, but she did not scream. Instead, she let out a terrible roar, and the crow collided with her body and she felt its talons cut the back of her neck, but its feathers were being torn from its body and falling all around her—
Aurèle woke suddenly, in the wake of rain. The summer storm had come quickly, and now broken. It was pouring, and soaking her fur. She quickly made the shift to her lupus form, feeling the dull burn of the scars against her neck, and grunted. Still, the smile remained on her face. Even though she had no proof yet, she knew. She was immortal. The smile vanished suddenly as a noise broke her thoughts; a crow, calling out. Aurèle’s head turned sharply, and found the pied bird perched nearby. She frowned and pinned her ears, then quickly turned and began to head towards Aniwaya. Behind her, the persistent bird followed, though it was now silent.