It was finished.
The last burial ground of his past life. He stood, eyes sliding meticulously over the area that surrounded him, and finally, surveying his work. A deep hole lay birthed and destroyed, dug under the anger of an approaching storm and filled as thunder rolled overhead, rain cleansing the wounded earth with water that pooled like tears, trickling and eventually streaming around the uneven surface. By the morning, it would be apparent that something had happened here, but the details would be washed away. It would be hidden by nature alone. More rain would come, the shrubs would creep blindly across the ground again, and the dead leaves would mar what was left of the tale beneath the ground. The earth had a way of dealing with the dead, it always had. Bones may linger, but this hadn't been the first hole, though he swore it would be the last.
He turned away then, moving silently through the noise and back through the thicket of secrets. His eyes were sharp on the area around him, moving with purpose and with care so that he would follow only one path; a path consumed by the rain. It was cold, almost a relief after his work, though his flesh shuddered lightly in response to his lengthy exposure. It was the wind that did the work of sapping his stamina alongside the hours of muscle use he had put in previously. But he had been ready for this, and his stamina wasn't little. Artuo would make this last trek through the thicket and he would not return.
He paused for an instant, finally reaching the border of the thicket, and looked back. The sky was black overhead, masking the deeds of the night in darkness until only a flash of lightening lit up the foliage at abrupt intervals. This was how it was to be now. The shapes contorted in the night, casting shadow and darkness over all, and as the stark yellow eyes radiated in the night, he knew that he must start again. And in the next instant, as darkness consumed the world, he turned away once more, his gaze forward and did not look back again.
----
It was early the next morning that Artuo awoke, his body cleansed from the pouring rain and a dastardly brush the creek, finding himself in surrounded by orchard of trees. The birds called to one another from their perches and small insects flew haphazardly through the air. It was a sunny morning, the warm rays penetrating his still damp fur and warming him in such a way the shivers of delight coursed up his spine. He rose halfway from his nest of leaves, rump still comfortably planted amongst them, and gazed about. There was nothing here that suggested trauma or danger. From the content noises of the wild creatures, <span class='word'>jubilate</span> in the their goings, to the plopping of overripe cherries to the ground. He thought that, here perhaps, was his new beginning. And with the sounds of contentment that surrounded him, he closed those ever watchful eyes and reveled in the sun. </blockquote>
(This post was last modified: Jul 25, 2012, 09:22 PM by Artuo.)