Werewolves (RP 10): The Song of the Mountain - part 2
Quote from Mae on December 21, 2018, 12:44 pmKratos stood at the edge of the rushing water with his arm held tightly in Bianca's hands. His face was somber. Bianca's hands trembled. Words of despair were written in her features. Kratos stood unbending. Then, without speaking, he pulled her close to himself and lifted her body off the ground. Easily, like a man with a child, Kratos set Bianca on his shoulders and stepped into the water. Icy mud filled the spaces between his lion-like toes. Cold water rushed up his legs and dragged his tail downstream. Then he left the ground behind him and went fully into the water with Bianca's arms around his neck.
No pleasantness is ever described by those who pass into the depths of despair, for the chill penetrates every muscle, and the water is in constant commotion. Shafts and stones swirl about, and dislodged trees threaten to beat to pieces anything that stays afloat. So, for a time, submerged darkness takes hold. There is nothing but moving forces tearing in all directions, no sense of up or down, nor forward or back. All is a suffocating mass of confusion.
Yet it is for a small moment. Despair while threatening forever doom flies fleetly. Then out again; that first desperate breath comes just after darkness, and the will to live brings another. Soon the pattern of many gasping breaths brings the realization that all is not lost.
Kratos and Bianca had survived. Kratos dragged them both out of the water the moment his hands touched stone, and thus onto land they both ascended. Water drained off their backs like a fountain. And though the world was no warmer on the other side of the river, the air felt strangely soothing compared to the icy water that had engulfed them.
Kratos set Bianca on the ground and untied her from him, for at some point unknown to her his cloak had been wrapped about her shoulders. Kratos then surveyed his passenger for injury while bracing her up from the mud with his massive forearm. "Are you alright?" He asked.
Kratos stood at the edge of the rushing water with his arm held tightly in Bianca's hands. His face was somber. Bianca's hands trembled. Words of despair were written in her features. Kratos stood unbending. Then, without speaking, he pulled her close to himself and lifted her body off the ground. Easily, like a man with a child, Kratos set Bianca on his shoulders and stepped into the water. Icy mud filled the spaces between his lion-like toes. Cold water rushed up his legs and dragged his tail downstream. Then he left the ground behind him and went fully into the water with Bianca's arms around his neck.
No pleasantness is ever described by those who pass into the depths of despair, for the chill penetrates every muscle, and the water is in constant commotion. Shafts and stones swirl about, and dislodged trees threaten to beat to pieces anything that stays afloat. So, for a time, submerged darkness takes hold. There is nothing but moving forces tearing in all directions, no sense of up or down, nor forward or back. All is a suffocating mass of confusion.
Yet it is for a small moment. Despair while threatening forever doom flies fleetly. Then out again; that first desperate breath comes just after darkness, and the will to live brings another. Soon the pattern of many gasping breaths brings the realization that all is not lost.
Kratos and Bianca had survived. Kratos dragged them both out of the water the moment his hands touched stone, and thus onto land they both ascended. Water drained off their backs like a fountain. And though the world was no warmer on the other side of the river, the air felt strangely soothing compared to the icy water that had engulfed them.
Kratos set Bianca on the ground and untied her from him, for at some point unknown to her his cloak had been wrapped about her shoulders. Kratos then surveyed his passenger for injury while bracing her up from the mud with his massive forearm. "Are you alright?" He asked.
Quote from Mae on December 21, 2018, 12:57 pmThough the question lingered dangerously in Jackie's eyes, and the armed woman read it plainly, there was no question in the latter's mind.
Mercy Danbrook would not only fire again, but would herself become a living weapon in the defense of her child. The gun was a convenience - a tool in the absence of fangs and claws. But if the distance did not afford another shot then Mercy would use the rifle as a club and battering ram. It did not matter if she lived or died in the attempt. The presence of her son would make her fierce beyond reason. More than that, Mercy feared the werewolf with great passion. She would sooner die killing it than become its victim.
"Stay behind me Charles!" Mercy yelled at her son, and then it would seem he was forgotten, for she positioned herself in front of him and took aim.
"Jackie!" Ulric suddenly shouted from behind, and he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her fiercely back into the narrow tunnel. Another shot rang clear - bullet on stone!
Though the question lingered dangerously in Jackie's eyes, and the armed woman read it plainly, there was no question in the latter's mind.
Mercy Danbrook would not only fire again, but would herself become a living weapon in the defense of her child. The gun was a convenience - a tool in the absence of fangs and claws. But if the distance did not afford another shot then Mercy would use the rifle as a club and battering ram. It did not matter if she lived or died in the attempt. The presence of her son would make her fierce beyond reason. More than that, Mercy feared the werewolf with great passion. She would sooner die killing it than become its victim.
"Stay behind me Charles!" Mercy yelled at her son, and then it would seem he was forgotten, for she positioned herself in front of him and took aim.
"Jackie!" Ulric suddenly shouted from behind, and he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her fiercely back into the narrow tunnel. Another shot rang clear - bullet on stone!
Quote from Indy on December 21, 2018, 1:26 pmJackie did not break her gaze away from Mercy’s, not until the last moment when Ulric pulled her back into the tunnel she’d come from. She considered the long end of the weapon, the whimper of the boy, and the fear that danced in their eyes. They both spoke the language of the cornered animal, and as soon as one struck the other would be forced to defend their own to the death.
It didn’t need to be this way, did it? No one needed to get hurt, no one must die today…
She didn’t know why retreating further into the cave didn’t occur to her. Or perhaps, it did occur to her, but going back meant relinquishing the only escape from the narrow, twisting turns of the mountains passages, which surely meant suffocating...
Jackie did not break her gaze away from Mercy’s, not until the last moment when Ulric pulled her back into the tunnel she’d come from. She considered the long end of the weapon, the whimper of the boy, and the fear that danced in their eyes. They both spoke the language of the cornered animal, and as soon as one struck the other would be forced to defend their own to the death.
It didn’t need to be this way, did it? No one needed to get hurt, no one must die today…
She didn’t know why retreating further into the cave didn’t occur to her. Or perhaps, it did occur to her, but going back meant relinquishing the only escape from the narrow, twisting turns of the mountains passages, which surely meant suffocating...
Quote from Mae on December 21, 2018, 11:12 pmSometime earlier...
Charles shivered. He sat with his mother's blanket spread out on the gravelly floor under him, alone. In one hand he held his little flashlight, in the other was a toy truck. Warily he stared down one of the long dark paths. He thought he heard wispy voices, but maybe it was just the wind. He shuffled the blankets slightly, finding his teddy bear buried in the folds. Then, sitting with his back against the hard stone wall, he waited. At length, a cold wind coursed down the tunnel and Charles stirred expectantly. He shined his little yellow flashlight down the opposite tunnel and waited only a moment more before his mother came around the corner.
"Momma!" Charles exclaimed, and he quietly went to meet her.
Mercy entered the cavern weary and wet. "Go sit down, Charlie." She said.
"Are you cold, momma?" Charles whispered.
"No, Charlie. Go sit down and play with your truck." Mercy said again.
She went to the corner and sat down on a pile of pillows with some effort. Her four-year-old son appeared to notice her pain. He patted the pillows carefully for her, and helped her put her walking stick on the ground. Then, more mindful of his own discomfort than of hers, he gently snuggled up close to her leg and began rolling his truck across the blanket.
"Not right there, Charlie." Mercy said suddenly. "Momma's leg hurts, remember? Go sit over there."
Mercy pointed to the corner, and Charles reluctantly complied. He walked over to the eerie tunnel wherein he could still hear strange echoing sounds and sat down.Charles faced the big black hole and began rolling his little truck across the sandy cave floor. Although his hands were preoccupied using the truck's plastic bucket to lift and shovel dirt, Charles' bright blue eyes continued to stare into blackness. Then, as if thinking to himself, "Just to be safe," he planted his flashlight facing the tunnel. He felt better being able to see the big rock jutting out in the middle, it made the path look shorter and less windy.
"Don't go down there." Mercy warned, noticing the boy's unyielding gaze. Charles nodded and continued to play quietly.
Mercy, meanwhile, rested her head against the stone wall. She wiped the unseen tears off her cheeks and breathed an unheard trembling sigh. The nights were getting colder, and food was running out. Even if tonight was like every other night and she never heard the cry of the wolves, she knew the storm would make a morning hunt impossible. Thus, not for the first time, Mercy's mind trailed back to every decision that led her here. Tears traveled down her olive cheeks. She regretted everything. Never did she feel so alone and so desperate as to hide herself and her child in a mountain cave. But she was afraid, with nowhere else to turn, and her child's life depended solely on her.
A sound suddenly broke the hallow-winded silence. Mercy grabbed the sniper rifle beside her thigh, and listened keenly to the distant sound of rain. A muffled rumble came down the south tunnel. Charles sat staring at it quietly. Mercy waited, and then her heart began to beat again.
"Did you hear that, Momma?" Charles asked.
"It's just the storm." Mercy said reassuringly.
Reluctantly, Charles began playing again.Then another sound echoed down the opposite way - a far more sinister sound, and one Mercy long dreaded - the sound of a werewolf's cry. Charlie felt his mother's fear almost tangibly as she got up and faced the opposite cave. He watched her for a few minutes, and then looked back at his own quiet tunnel. The wind wasn't blowing anymore... He sat staring at the jutting boulder in the narrow passage. It seemed almost like he could hear something. It sounded like one of Harvey Bolt's big dogs breathing quietly, but getting closer. Charles continued to stare. Then, on the ground by the boulder, he saw the tips of furry white toes appear at the edge of his little light. Long curved claws stretched into the sand. Charles opened his mouth. Eyes like ice emerged from the blackness, followed by a long white face. Charles screamed!
Mercy turned on a heel and shot at the werewolf! The bullet ricocheted off the jutting stone. She shot again, and the werewolf ducked into the long dark tunnel.
Charles curled into the blankets behind his mother's legs, as if the covers really could protect him from the monsters. Mercy knew better."Get out! Get out of here!" Mercy yelled at the werewolf hiding out of sight. She shot the boulder one more time, then saved her fire with a trembling heart.
"Don't shoot!" She heard someone say suddenly. "We're not going to hurt you."
The voice was too human to come from anything else, it sounded like the voice of a young man. Mercy held her fire, but did not lower her weapon.
"I said get out!" She demanded."We can't." The voice replied. "The exit is blocked on this side. We need to get passed you. Please, don't shoot."
"Who are you?" Mercy answered.
"My name is Ulric. We're not here to hurt you, I promise."
"Are you a werewolf?""... We would change back if we could, but the moon is full. Please understand, we just want to leave."
Mercy felt her hands trembling. "Well you can't come this way." She said.
******
Ulric, meanwhile, held his back against the stone. His paws were raised and his ears tilted back listening as he surveyed Jackie's countenance. His face almost seemed to ask if she was okay, but mostly he wondered how she held up.
Sometime earlier...
Charles shivered. He sat with his mother's blanket spread out on the gravelly floor under him, alone. In one hand he held his little flashlight, in the other was a toy truck. Warily he stared down one of the long dark paths. He thought he heard wispy voices, but maybe it was just the wind. He shuffled the blankets slightly, finding his teddy bear buried in the folds. Then, sitting with his back against the hard stone wall, he waited. At length, a cold wind coursed down the tunnel and Charles stirred expectantly. He shined his little yellow flashlight down the opposite tunnel and waited only a moment more before his mother came around the corner.
"Momma!" Charles exclaimed, and he quietly went to meet her.
Mercy entered the cavern weary and wet. "Go sit down, Charlie." She said.
"Are you cold, momma?" Charles whispered.
"No, Charlie. Go sit down and play with your truck." Mercy said again.
She went to the corner and sat down on a pile of pillows with some effort. Her four-year-old son appeared to notice her pain. He patted the pillows carefully for her, and helped her put her walking stick on the ground. Then, more mindful of his own discomfort than of hers, he gently snuggled up close to her leg and began rolling his truck across the blanket.
"Not right there, Charlie." Mercy said suddenly. "Momma's leg hurts, remember? Go sit over there."
Mercy pointed to the corner, and Charles reluctantly complied. He walked over to the eerie tunnel wherein he could still hear strange echoing sounds and sat down.
Charles faced the big black hole and began rolling his little truck across the sandy cave floor. Although his hands were preoccupied using the truck's plastic bucket to lift and shovel dirt, Charles' bright blue eyes continued to stare into blackness. Then, as if thinking to himself, "Just to be safe," he planted his flashlight facing the tunnel. He felt better being able to see the big rock jutting out in the middle, it made the path look shorter and less windy.
"Don't go down there." Mercy warned, noticing the boy's unyielding gaze. Charles nodded and continued to play quietly.
Mercy, meanwhile, rested her head against the stone wall. She wiped the unseen tears off her cheeks and breathed an unheard trembling sigh. The nights were getting colder, and food was running out. Even if tonight was like every other night and she never heard the cry of the wolves, she knew the storm would make a morning hunt impossible. Thus, not for the first time, Mercy's mind trailed back to every decision that led her here. Tears traveled down her olive cheeks. She regretted everything. Never did she feel so alone and so desperate as to hide herself and her child in a mountain cave. But she was afraid, with nowhere else to turn, and her child's life depended solely on her.
A sound suddenly broke the hallow-winded silence. Mercy grabbed the sniper rifle beside her thigh, and listened keenly to the distant sound of rain. A muffled rumble came down the south tunnel. Charles sat staring at it quietly. Mercy waited, and then her heart began to beat again.
"Did you hear that, Momma?" Charles asked.
"It's just the storm." Mercy said reassuringly.
Reluctantly, Charles began playing again.
Then another sound echoed down the opposite way - a far more sinister sound, and one Mercy long dreaded - the sound of a werewolf's cry. Charlie felt his mother's fear almost tangibly as she got up and faced the opposite cave. He watched her for a few minutes, and then looked back at his own quiet tunnel. The wind wasn't blowing anymore... He sat staring at the jutting boulder in the narrow passage. It seemed almost like he could hear something. It sounded like one of Harvey Bolt's big dogs breathing quietly, but getting closer. Charles continued to stare. Then, on the ground by the boulder, he saw the tips of furry white toes appear at the edge of his little light. Long curved claws stretched into the sand. Charles opened his mouth. Eyes like ice emerged from the blackness, followed by a long white face. Charles screamed!
Mercy turned on a heel and shot at the werewolf! The bullet ricocheted off the jutting stone. She shot again, and the werewolf ducked into the long dark tunnel.
Charles curled into the blankets behind his mother's legs, as if the covers really could protect him from the monsters. Mercy knew better.
"Get out! Get out of here!" Mercy yelled at the werewolf hiding out of sight. She shot the boulder one more time, then saved her fire with a trembling heart.
"Don't shoot!" She heard someone say suddenly. "We're not going to hurt you."
The voice was too human to come from anything else, it sounded like the voice of a young man. Mercy held her fire, but did not lower her weapon.
"I said get out!" She demanded.
"We can't." The voice replied. "The exit is blocked on this side. We need to get passed you. Please, don't shoot."
"Who are you?" Mercy answered.
"My name is Ulric. We're not here to hurt you, I promise."
"Are you a werewolf?"
"... We would change back if we could, but the moon is full. Please understand, we just want to leave."
Mercy felt her hands trembling. "Well you can't come this way." She said.
******
Ulric, meanwhile, held his back against the stone. His paws were raised and his ears tilted back listening as he surveyed Jackie's countenance. His face almost seemed to ask if she was okay, but mostly he wondered how she held up.
Quote from Adriana on December 22, 2018, 12:18 amWater dripped from every hair on Bianca's figure, falling around her feet and creating tiny pools in the already soupy earth. Her blue eyes drew beyond Kratos to the river behind him, then back to his own eyes. She nodded, slowly as if in disbelief, "Y-yes. I'm fine.."
She let loose of his arm and stepped back, ready to follow him again. "I c-c-can stand." she added.
Water dripped from every hair on Bianca's figure, falling around her feet and creating tiny pools in the already soupy earth. Her blue eyes drew beyond Kratos to the river behind him, then back to his own eyes. She nodded, slowly as if in disbelief, "Y-yes. I'm fine.."
She let loose of his arm and stepped back, ready to follow him again. "I c-c-can stand." she added.
Quote from Mae on December 26, 2018, 3:15 pmKratos nodded solemnly. "Good." He said. "Then lets go."
As the two continued their journey up the hither shore, the rain came again like a wave through the trees. Kratos had his back to it, and guarded Bianca from behind. For awhile they were caused to ascend away from the river, but it was not long before the ground began to slope down again. Now, however, Kratos did not steer them down the mountain as he did before. Instead, he directed Bianca west, and they clambered for a time over rough stones with a grade on their right and a slope on their left. Pine trees were strewn along the way and sometimes lay directly across their path. But while the moon was yet to illuminate the hazards, the eyes of the werewolves were keen even in the dark.
"There." Kratos said at long last. "Go down into that cleft."
Whether it was the angle of the mountain, or a jutting cliff, Kratos and Bianca came into an area where the wind was shallow. The rain lessened and the trees became thicker. Soon, a rooted mass covered in pine needles replaced the forest floor, and a thick piney canopy blocked out the howling wind.
Once again, Kratos and Bianca descended into literal blackness. Unlike the river, however, the pines offered a strange sort of pleasantness. The wind was less, so the air was warmer. It was quieter, too. The boisterous clatter of leaves was left behind, replaced only by the rustle of needles in the uppermost branches of the trees. But there was nothing to see, and the farther Bianca and Kratos traveled the less they could smell. At first the smell of pines was intense, but after awhile it faded into a dull suggestion to the senses.
Kratos came close to Bianca, knowing her strength must be near its limit now. He walked behind her the whole time.
"We're almost there." His deep voice came out of the darkness. Kratos no longer needed to speak over the wind. He urged Bianca on with his own strength which all the while seemed impossible to fail. As the two must yet continued their journey, he spoke again at length.
"My father taught me to see in the dark by closing me in a dark room. He showed me that by resetting my eyes in a blink, to the count of ten, that my eyes would detect the shallow light in the room where they did not before. From this little training I taught myself how to adapt more quickly to the dark. I found that my eyes possessed unnatural keenness even before the first change. So, when I found myself staring into the blackness under the rails, it only took me a moment to see what was there." Kratos steadied Bianca with his arm as he continued relating his story from before.
"I saw a face; the face of a scrawny boy. I could see him sitting in the mud, staring up at me with his dirty face and red eyes through the rails. He was a boy from a class I attended..."Presently, the darkness thinned. The thistley details of a world etched in grey was revealed, and the glowing windows of a house could be seen through the sloping black branches up ahead.
Kratos nodded solemnly. "Good." He said. "Then lets go."
As the two continued their journey up the hither shore, the rain came again like a wave through the trees. Kratos had his back to it, and guarded Bianca from behind. For awhile they were caused to ascend away from the river, but it was not long before the ground began to slope down again. Now, however, Kratos did not steer them down the mountain as he did before. Instead, he directed Bianca west, and they clambered for a time over rough stones with a grade on their right and a slope on their left. Pine trees were strewn along the way and sometimes lay directly across their path. But while the moon was yet to illuminate the hazards, the eyes of the werewolves were keen even in the dark.
"There." Kratos said at long last. "Go down into that cleft."
Whether it was the angle of the mountain, or a jutting cliff, Kratos and Bianca came into an area where the wind was shallow. The rain lessened and the trees became thicker. Soon, a rooted mass covered in pine needles replaced the forest floor, and a thick piney canopy blocked out the howling wind.
Once again, Kratos and Bianca descended into literal blackness. Unlike the river, however, the pines offered a strange sort of pleasantness. The wind was less, so the air was warmer. It was quieter, too. The boisterous clatter of leaves was left behind, replaced only by the rustle of needles in the uppermost branches of the trees. But there was nothing to see, and the farther Bianca and Kratos traveled the less they could smell. At first the smell of pines was intense, but after awhile it faded into a dull suggestion to the senses.
Kratos came close to Bianca, knowing her strength must be near its limit now. He walked behind her the whole time.
"We're almost there." His deep voice came out of the darkness. Kratos no longer needed to speak over the wind. He urged Bianca on with his own strength which all the while seemed impossible to fail. As the two must yet continued their journey, he spoke again at length.
"My father taught me to see in the dark by closing me in a dark room. He showed me that by resetting my eyes in a blink, to the count of ten, that my eyes would detect the shallow light in the room where they did not before. From this little training I taught myself how to adapt more quickly to the dark. I found that my eyes possessed unnatural keenness even before the first change. So, when I found myself staring into the blackness under the rails, it only took me a moment to see what was there." Kratos steadied Bianca with his arm as he continued relating his story from before.
"I saw a face; the face of a scrawny boy. I could see him sitting in the mud, staring up at me with his dirty face and red eyes through the rails. He was a boy from a class I attended..."
Presently, the darkness thinned. The thistley details of a world etched in grey was revealed, and the glowing windows of a house could be seen through the sloping black branches up ahead.
Quote from Mae on December 26, 2018, 5:26 pm[Meanwhile]
On the north side of the mountain the black sky broke and milky white rays of moonlight streamed through the cracks in the clouds. The rocks around Logan's knees were bathed in ivory blue hues, while the shadows curled and retreated to nothingness under spindly twigs and branches. A cold wind still blew from the north, but the howling tempest fell faraway.
Then, rising over the trees, a soft sound was heard echoing. It rose and fell in a familiar way, note for note identical to Timothy's song, but it was not a voice. It was a breathy whistle; a hallow-sounding tune; the sound of a flute distantly playing over the hills.
[Meanwhile]
On the north side of the mountain the black sky broke and milky white rays of moonlight streamed through the cracks in the clouds. The rocks around Logan's knees were bathed in ivory blue hues, while the shadows curled and retreated to nothingness under spindly twigs and branches. A cold wind still blew from the north, but the howling tempest fell faraway.
Then, rising over the trees, a soft sound was heard echoing. It rose and fell in a familiar way, note for note identical to Timothy's song, but it was not a voice. It was a breathy whistle; a hallow-sounding tune; the sound of a flute distantly playing over the hills.
Quote from Indy on December 27, 2018, 3:11 amThe walls constricted around her. They pressed around her, Ulric as well. Her breath came out short and fast and every inch of her body trembled. Even with her eyes shut and her arms pressed over her ears, she could still feel them from the smell of warm, stagnant air holding the vapors of their breath and the way the echoes of their voices were projected. There was no escaping them, not in this form, and she could feel them with painstaking clarity as they moved against her.
Go forward! a voice cried, yet she knew she could not. To go forward was to push past the woman with the gun and the boy with the wide, frightened eyes. To push forward would hurt them, and that she could not allow…
Oh, but would she make it so far down the constricting halls before the woman was ready with the gun? To spare her of the agony of knowing there was no escape…
Another voice echoed in her mind, not her own, but a man’s voice that lived in memories so strange and twisted that they had been buried. "Let go…" the voice urged, collapsing the walls around her, "Let go of your fear. Let nothing hold you back. Do not even fear death itself…."
No !
She tensed, her muscles constricting as though to be called to action. Yet the strength of those muscles strained terribly only to keep her in place, to hold her body from the temptation of flight.
The walls constricted around her. They pressed around her, Ulric as well. Her breath came out short and fast and every inch of her body trembled. Even with her eyes shut and her arms pressed over her ears, she could still feel them from the smell of warm, stagnant air holding the vapors of their breath and the way the echoes of their voices were projected. There was no escaping them, not in this form, and she could feel them with painstaking clarity as they moved against her.
Go forward! a voice cried, yet she knew she could not. To go forward was to push past the woman with the gun and the boy with the wide, frightened eyes. To push forward would hurt them, and that she could not allow…
Oh, but would she make it so far down the constricting halls before the woman was ready with the gun? To spare her of the agony of knowing there was no escape…
Another voice echoed in her mind, not her own, but a man’s voice that lived in memories so strange and twisted that they had been buried. "Let go…" the voice urged, collapsing the walls around her, "Let go of your fear. Let nothing hold you back. Do not even fear death itself…."
No !
She tensed, her muscles constricting as though to be called to action. Yet the strength of those muscles strained terribly only to keep her in place, to hold her body from the temptation of flight.
Quote from Mae on December 27, 2018, 4:43 pmUlric knew he needed to act. He could see Jackie fighting herself. She would not win against her own nature, she did not have the training for it. Ulric felt his heart beat quicken. His own muscles tightened into a garnered spring at what he would have to attempt.
"Please, don't shoot. I am coming out so you can see me. I will not hurt either of you."
Oh, Charles, as terrified as he was, could not help but peek out of the blanket at this word. Mercy opened her mouth, but just as soon as she did, the auburn red eyes of another werewolf appeared around the boulder and was followed by a long tawny-brown face. Mercy recognized it at once - for several months ago she looked through the hunter's net and admired the strange rabbit-like fur of this werewolf. Charles trembled, but he felt too secure behind his mother's stalwart stance and ready-aimed rifle to squeak.
Ulric came out steadily, almost ready to jump back at any moment, until he was fully in the light of Charle's little yellow flashlight.
Ulric knew he needed to act. He could see Jackie fighting herself. She would not win against her own nature, she did not have the training for it. Ulric felt his heart beat quicken. His own muscles tightened into a garnered spring at what he would have to attempt.
"Please, don't shoot. I am coming out so you can see me. I will not hurt either of you."
Oh, Charles, as terrified as he was, could not help but peek out of the blanket at this word. Mercy opened her mouth, but just as soon as she did, the auburn red eyes of another werewolf appeared around the boulder and was followed by a long tawny-brown face. Mercy recognized it at once - for several months ago she looked through the hunter's net and admired the strange rabbit-like fur of this werewolf. Charles trembled, but he felt too secure behind his mother's stalwart stance and ready-aimed rifle to squeak.
Ulric came out steadily, almost ready to jump back at any moment, until he was fully in the light of Charle's little yellow flashlight.
Quote from Adriana on December 28, 2018, 8:19 pmBianca listened, feeling the Alpha's presence as clear as a lighthouse in the dark, and as sturdy as a mast unshaken in the storm. Even so, the Alpha was right to note her own dwindling strength. In spite of it, however, she would walk those last steps.
Kratos' story brought a chill to her, a chill different and somehow worse than the chill that gnawed at the marrow of her bones. Her pace slowed-if it was possible, and she searched the Alpha's eyes for answers to a question she had yet to voice-hardly noticing the lights of the structure up ahead.
---
The injured werewolf's ears swiveled towards the sound. Eventually, her head was lifted, and her eyes slowly blinking took in her surroundings shrouded in their new light. With a groan and a foggy sigh, she utilized her good arm and the makeshift walking stick to pull herself back up and began slowly towards the sound. Could a werewolf produce a sound such as that she heard? No-surely Timothy had sung the same song in his own wolfish voice.
Logan trudged up the ribs of the mountain and towards it's spine, seeking the player of the song.
Bianca listened, feeling the Alpha's presence as clear as a lighthouse in the dark, and as sturdy as a mast unshaken in the storm. Even so, the Alpha was right to note her own dwindling strength. In spite of it, however, she would walk those last steps.
Kratos' story brought a chill to her, a chill different and somehow worse than the chill that gnawed at the marrow of her bones. Her pace slowed-if it was possible, and she searched the Alpha's eyes for answers to a question she had yet to voice-hardly noticing the lights of the structure up ahead.
---
The injured werewolf's ears swiveled towards the sound. Eventually, her head was lifted, and her eyes slowly blinking took in her surroundings shrouded in their new light. With a groan and a foggy sigh, she utilized her good arm and the makeshift walking stick to pull herself back up and began slowly towards the sound. Could a werewolf produce a sound such as that she heard? No-surely Timothy had sung the same song in his own wolfish voice.
Logan trudged up the ribs of the mountain and towards it's spine, seeking the player of the song.
