Sex: MaleHe paused momentarily to survey the rolling breezes for any word from the lake, lost amidst the distant mountains to the east. There was something in his soul that longed to be with them, but such thoughts were rushed from his conscious mind nearly as soon as they had surfaced. He didn’t belong to the mountains anymore, or to the waters of the lake or the fog that was such a part of what was left of him. It was a given that there would be an adjustment period revolving around this transition into pack life, and it was beginning to take its toll, slowly chipping away at his sense of individual identity. Part of him knew that this was both a normal and temporary feeling, but that knowledge did not lessen his degree of uncertainty.
The feeling of the mud beneath his feet, slimy and cold and treacherous, was similar to the way his brain felt. Stress was building a nest inside of him, creating foundations with his bones and filling in the holes with mortar of his blood and siding of his skin. Was he going to last beneath the crushing weight of his own expectations for himself? Only time would tell, he reiterated to himself as he pressed forth into the marsh. Memories of the way she spoke and the stories told by her eyes of anguish and torture played endlessly, reminding him again of the parallel between his state of mind and the mud on which he walked. There were so many questions left unanswered, and it seemed as though the more he wondered, the less he wished to know. He was unsure of the quality of his own future, which was now functional only to serve the needs of his pack mates. It was a fair trade—he was sure of this. He did accept the gift of his life to these strangers, because he knew that his efforts—past, present, and future—would not be in vain. Someday, someone, somehow, would benefit from his blood, sweat, and tears, and today that notion was the only thing that kept him from forsaking himself.
He continued through the mire, which now caked his thickening black and silver coat, pausing for a second as he approached a small pool of water, mottled with dying cattails. The transition into the cool water was rejuvenating as it flowed over his back, and he paddled gracefully through it, dodging the aqueous plants and remnants of decaying acacia as they lie untouched and scattered throughout the wetland. The sky was overcast, and he wished that the sun would find a way through the cloud cover to dance upon his dark, scarred mask. He longed for its warmth, and he knew in his soul that he was not the only one. There was a darkness about Relic Lore; it was an unforgiving landscape with nothing to offer to the weak of heart, only an ability to suck the life force from those who were ill-prepared and unexpecting.
The male’s toes touched the slope of the far bank sooner than he had hoped for. He quenched his thirst, watching his precarious, black and white reflection as he dipped his muzzle into the dark water. He had spent enough time wandering, wasting his energy on an endless pursuit of the unknown and its possibility.
(This post was last modified: Nov 14, 2011, 09:47 PM by Kade.)
