The crunching of pawsteps over brittle bone, that was the only noise made deep within the ethereal clearing. Bones littered the ground everywhere you turned, some still had flesh clinging stubbornly to the edges of the exposed edges. The trees stunted, twisted and skeletal, much like the pale figure that trended over the bones. The wolf was colorless, his fur a ghostly white that was complemented by a skeletal appearance. At one point, the fur may have been soft and clean, but now, it was was covered in a thin layer of dirt, the figure’s bones jutted out quite easily as Icicle lived off of whatever he could scavenge. His movements were always slow and deliberate, the familiar aching in his joint was one of few friends the spectre had way out out.
For weeks now, the albino had been living out her,e away from other wolves, ever since he had been rejected from Grizzly Hollow, the act itself, he understood perfectly, no one wanted a diseased looking figure among their ranks, a figure who seemed like he would keel over at anytime, but he had lasted this long, and he was determined to continue. He had found this place, the Cor Ossum, though it’s name unknown to him, meer days after he had chosen to retreat away from the hurt and rejection that was caused by being near others. Out here, he felt an odd connection to the land around him, in a way they were simmler, his bones, like the trees could be twisted with flesh clinging tightly to life. Out here, he was safe, out here, Icicle had developed a persona of what most people saw him as, a diseased and dying wolf, though, for now, he still clung onto life, though for how long..he didn’t know.
Is it worth living… He wondered as he settled down next to the bones of an unknown animals, his dirty pelt still managing to keep an ethereal and ghostly appearance as he looked around, his light pink eyes, once filled with a small spark of hope were now devoid of any such illumination, instead cold and hard as the almost perpetual twilight provided by the ominous forest allowed him to see without fear or pain of the sunlight, nor the burning warmth it brought. Slowly, those eyes closed as Icicle’s mind wandered while he sat on his haunches within the graveyard clearing.
ThoughtIcicle’s Dialogue