Post by Lajos on Jul 29, 2006 21:43:34 GMT -5
Ok, as a novelist and poet, I warn you of the somewhat graphic nature of the story you are about to read (If you are going to read it). Also, please note that, even though the story has a similiar name as my previously posted one, there is no affiliation:
Red River
By John Strickland
A paw. A ripple in the red river.
That river ran red with blood, a liquid, laced with the crimson substance that clouded and danced about within it. This dance was sickening, yet, like everything, it held beauty, for beauty is in the mind, and there is none beyond.
It was on this starlit night, beneath a flowing waterfall, that our tale begins, as a wolf stares sadly down toward the corpse of his own mate. Bewildered, he steps away, paws soaking the moonlit grass with blood. Even over the roar of the cascading falls, his howl could be heard, and it was a majestic howl, as always, and a baleful one, as well. It was a song holding the pain and sadness to fill a thousand souls. Even so, there was a victorious hint to this howl--a beautiful dash to it.
Yet again, beauty is nothing--It exists only in the eye of the beholder. Shouldn't it be overlooked? And so, this night; this beauty, was an ugly one...
Finne let out a short whimper as he awoke that icy morning in the den. Once, they said, the den was a human creation, a great terrible beast they called a "Mil". Thank Acheron it was dead, now. Life wasn't as bad as it was for many of the Gralla, or wolves. It could have been much worse, as it was in the olden times, when the once great empire of wolves shattered, come the entrance of Acheron, savior of the wolves. Somewhere, Finne heard, they still worshiped The Others, living gods that aided in the annihilation of the empire and the death of Acheron. In these times, if you worshipped the others and were cought, you weren't dead. You were an outcast, doomed forever to roam the packless lands.
Finne was not at all surprised, come the time the head Unkra, or male wolf, sometimes dubbed "Alpha Wolf" came to him in the cold stone corner of the den. He had been expecting it, and he knew what was to be said even before the words came.
"Where's Kaina?"
The yearling unkra looked up at his imposing, towering leader through calm, shining amber eyes. His mother called them beautiful; his father called them evil. Amber eyes were an uncommon trait. They had not been seen in Orea since the times of Acheron, who had them, as well. Finne knew little of his parents. His mother was killed by his father, and his father was exiled long ago into the Kiri, or mountaintops. He had been exiled because of his "sacrafice" made to The Others--a sacrafice consisting of Finne's own mother. There was a rumor that Finne's father left to find Topanga, The land of the Red River; Paradise. Either way, Finne didn't care. He had been suckled by a barren she-wolf of this pack until he knew how to walk--around that time, the she-wolf was found mauled in the forests. It was agreed that it had been the work of a deer, or maybe a rouge wolf. No one knew.
"I do not know."
Finne spoke the words, and as he did, he could feel his sin shocking through his frail form. He knew... he knew where Kaina was.
* * *
"A loner!"
"A real one? Come, let's watch his death!"
The nine pups in the large pack were the last to hear of the stranger in their packland. The pupsitter, or the packs lowest ranked member, had told them. He was a polite youth--not necessarily nice, but polite. He wasn't a child of the Head Unkra, and thus, was treated unkindly. His parents were slaughtered immediately following the discovery of their pups, and their slaughter was commited by the Head Krora, or leading she-wolf in the pack. She was brutal, often leading the hunts, just like the hunts in which the pack just partook in their spacious packland. Even so, for any wolf in the pack besides the lead pair to breed... That was a disgrace to Acheron!
"Why kill him?" Finne sat on his haunches in the freezing corner, snow drifting in on the cold midnight air from a cobblestone window. He had spoken for the first time since the sunlit morning, and now, each of the eight grey pups stared unkindly with bright yellow eyes toward their white-pelted underling, Finne.
"It's only reasonable that an intruder on our packland fight the Lead Unkra," one slender krora piped up,"Do you honestly think some loner unkra could face him?"
"Maybe. I wouldn't know until I saw the competitor."
Each youth; each wolfling, glared with those yellow eyes which Finne so envied. "Acheron should smight you, outcast." one ebony unkra hissed, malice dripping like the spat that flew from his accursed maw.
"I don't believe in Acheron."
A gasp from each of the youths in that desolate, dark corner of the mil. The pups began to whisper to one another, a hushed sussuruss in which Finne was not involved. It was always like this, and Finne knew they were talking about him. As they spoke, Finne slipped away into the darkness beyonded the rotten and agape wooden door that led to the outside. As the young unkrah neared it, he could feel the cold rush of wind, and snowflakes brushing his scrawny white form. In the distance, his powerful eyes saw Grack, the Lead Unkra, in the distance, with his gorgeous slender mate. Finne was shocked to find that both their pelts were clean. The pack had just returned from a hunt! If Finne's eyes weren't mistaken, he would have thought that his leaders had actually cleaned themselves! Even now, he could hear them speacking...
"Leave this land, prophet."
There was a third wolf as well, an Unkra. He, too, seemed well groomed. Perhaps this wolf was one of the Others, the powerful mortal gods from the north, mediators of the creator's will. Only one such as they took upon such a splendid, dominating posture nowadays. Even now, Finne could see his Alphas dipping their muzzles low in a sign of respect. All in all, Fine was discombobulated.
Yet uknown to him, greater things were in the works; about to break lose. This was destiny; fate, all in one, their sick spawn.
Finne wondered if his leaders knew he was there. He hoped not. Again, the unkra sniffed at his paw, making sure there were no traces of blood left upon it. That would spell his doom, for sure! Even still, Finne's large ears twitched as they heard the conversation that took place at the edge of the river, past a small grove where deer roamed in the morning hours. During the day, Finne saw it as beauty, snow littered about it in icy fragments, light streaming through the European forests--beautiful. However, when night came, there was no beauty. There was anxiousness, and to Finne, confusion as he listened...
"In exchange for the location of the of the one I seek," That cool, calm voice began,"I shall tell unto you the fate of thy beloved daughter."
Silence. Finne knew that each of the wolves were thinking. Then, fear shot like a mighty electric jolt through his fragile heart. They would know! They would know!
"His dubbance is Finne.. The one who killed thy daughter."
Crash! Finne watched as his beady eyes met the great, wide slits of his master. Then, before Finne could even react, he felt the great mass of the elder unkra smash against his own frail facade. He was knocked backward, flying through the air, and then, as the lead unkra slammed full force into Finne's limp body, left upon the icy, moist ground, everything went hazy, red washed over the young wolve's eyes.
"Why? Why did you kill her? Damn you, Finne, I thought you loved her!"
Through the clouded mass of bloodlust that lay like a cloack over his eyes, Finne's soft glance became a hard stare into the eyes of his opponets, while the two onlookers behind watched, mere shadows upon the riverside. "I killed her because I hated her."
"What?"
"That bitch... I could stand it no longer!" Finne's quiet speach had mutated, become a snarl. He felt no shame, any more. He had killed Kaina, and that was the truth. The two had been friends; they had even loved each other, if you could call it that. Then, Finne despised her. Or maybe he just despised the world... She was his only companion, and yet she whined constantly; she was with him, constantly. There was no silence; no peace. Nothing but Kaina. He couldn't give a damn about himself, just Kaina.
So he tempted her. To the river. They met late that night, and Finne drowned her. Drowned her and killed her. Tore her apart, finally rid of his forever plauge.
Yet baleful eyes stared from within the darkness; a silver, moonlit glow. Finne only saw it for a moment before it faded away. The head unkra was now atop him, teeth bared in a deadly snarl. "I'll kill you, bastard. I let your family in my pack, let you be suckled by my own she-wolf, and you still defile us? Damn you to hell!"
Splash! A great splash, and what Finne first thought was water lay beneath him and about him. A dark red liquid seeped about the snow, standing out like black upon white. He heard the Lead Jrora give out a scream, and watched as ripples formed in the blood circling Grack's great carcass, once so mighty, now so dilapidated. These ripples came from a second set of paws, those of a massive, shaggy grey wolf that had stepped in the pool forming around Grack's slit neck. Finne felt intimidated by the reagal beast before him, and, now that the rage that inhabited him had departed, weak and shy before this mighty unkra.
"He had to die. That would make sure you lived, Graa Finne."
Graa! Finne never thought he would earn that term. In the wolven language, it was the equivilant of "Lord" or "Prince", and the unkra's small heart swelled with something like pride as the term was added to his formery useless dubbance. But was this unkra against him?
"Your turn, madame. Step up and take this gracefully. The rest of your pack will be with you soon."
The head krora had once seemed so malicious. Now, she was nothing. Nothing but a bitch about to die. The white krora had no choice... This massive unkra could kill her any moment he pleased. Finne closed his eyes as the she-wolve's head was clasped in the bloody jaws of her powerful adversarie.
Crunch!
Red River
By John Strickland
Prolouge:
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee
--Macbeth; William Shakespeare
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee
--Macbeth; William Shakespeare
A paw. A ripple in the red river.
That river ran red with blood, a liquid, laced with the crimson substance that clouded and danced about within it. This dance was sickening, yet, like everything, it held beauty, for beauty is in the mind, and there is none beyond.
It was on this starlit night, beneath a flowing waterfall, that our tale begins, as a wolf stares sadly down toward the corpse of his own mate. Bewildered, he steps away, paws soaking the moonlit grass with blood. Even over the roar of the cascading falls, his howl could be heard, and it was a majestic howl, as always, and a baleful one, as well. It was a song holding the pain and sadness to fill a thousand souls. Even so, there was a victorious hint to this howl--a beautiful dash to it.
Yet again, beauty is nothing--It exists only in the eye of the beholder. Shouldn't it be overlooked? And so, this night; this beauty, was an ugly one...
Chapter One: The Loner
"With that truncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh in thy body."
--Sir Balin to Garlon; Malory's Morte d'Arthur
"With that truncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh in thy body."
--Sir Balin to Garlon; Malory's Morte d'Arthur
Finne let out a short whimper as he awoke that icy morning in the den. Once, they said, the den was a human creation, a great terrible beast they called a "Mil". Thank Acheron it was dead, now. Life wasn't as bad as it was for many of the Gralla, or wolves. It could have been much worse, as it was in the olden times, when the once great empire of wolves shattered, come the entrance of Acheron, savior of the wolves. Somewhere, Finne heard, they still worshiped The Others, living gods that aided in the annihilation of the empire and the death of Acheron. In these times, if you worshipped the others and were cought, you weren't dead. You were an outcast, doomed forever to roam the packless lands.
Finne was not at all surprised, come the time the head Unkra, or male wolf, sometimes dubbed "Alpha Wolf" came to him in the cold stone corner of the den. He had been expecting it, and he knew what was to be said even before the words came.
"Where's Kaina?"
The yearling unkra looked up at his imposing, towering leader through calm, shining amber eyes. His mother called them beautiful; his father called them evil. Amber eyes were an uncommon trait. They had not been seen in Orea since the times of Acheron, who had them, as well. Finne knew little of his parents. His mother was killed by his father, and his father was exiled long ago into the Kiri, or mountaintops. He had been exiled because of his "sacrafice" made to The Others--a sacrafice consisting of Finne's own mother. There was a rumor that Finne's father left to find Topanga, The land of the Red River; Paradise. Either way, Finne didn't care. He had been suckled by a barren she-wolf of this pack until he knew how to walk--around that time, the she-wolf was found mauled in the forests. It was agreed that it had been the work of a deer, or maybe a rouge wolf. No one knew.
"I do not know."
Finne spoke the words, and as he did, he could feel his sin shocking through his frail form. He knew... he knew where Kaina was.
* * *
"A loner!"
"A real one? Come, let's watch his death!"
The nine pups in the large pack were the last to hear of the stranger in their packland. The pupsitter, or the packs lowest ranked member, had told them. He was a polite youth--not necessarily nice, but polite. He wasn't a child of the Head Unkra, and thus, was treated unkindly. His parents were slaughtered immediately following the discovery of their pups, and their slaughter was commited by the Head Krora, or leading she-wolf in the pack. She was brutal, often leading the hunts, just like the hunts in which the pack just partook in their spacious packland. Even so, for any wolf in the pack besides the lead pair to breed... That was a disgrace to Acheron!
"Why kill him?" Finne sat on his haunches in the freezing corner, snow drifting in on the cold midnight air from a cobblestone window. He had spoken for the first time since the sunlit morning, and now, each of the eight grey pups stared unkindly with bright yellow eyes toward their white-pelted underling, Finne.
"It's only reasonable that an intruder on our packland fight the Lead Unkra," one slender krora piped up,"Do you honestly think some loner unkra could face him?"
"Maybe. I wouldn't know until I saw the competitor."
Each youth; each wolfling, glared with those yellow eyes which Finne so envied. "Acheron should smight you, outcast." one ebony unkra hissed, malice dripping like the spat that flew from his accursed maw.
"I don't believe in Acheron."
A gasp from each of the youths in that desolate, dark corner of the mil. The pups began to whisper to one another, a hushed sussuruss in which Finne was not involved. It was always like this, and Finne knew they were talking about him. As they spoke, Finne slipped away into the darkness beyonded the rotten and agape wooden door that led to the outside. As the young unkrah neared it, he could feel the cold rush of wind, and snowflakes brushing his scrawny white form. In the distance, his powerful eyes saw Grack, the Lead Unkra, in the distance, with his gorgeous slender mate. Finne was shocked to find that both their pelts were clean. The pack had just returned from a hunt! If Finne's eyes weren't mistaken, he would have thought that his leaders had actually cleaned themselves! Even now, he could hear them speacking...
"Leave this land, prophet."
There was a third wolf as well, an Unkra. He, too, seemed well groomed. Perhaps this wolf was one of the Others, the powerful mortal gods from the north, mediators of the creator's will. Only one such as they took upon such a splendid, dominating posture nowadays. Even now, Finne could see his Alphas dipping their muzzles low in a sign of respect. All in all, Fine was discombobulated.
Yet uknown to him, greater things were in the works; about to break lose. This was destiny; fate, all in one, their sick spawn.
Finne wondered if his leaders knew he was there. He hoped not. Again, the unkra sniffed at his paw, making sure there were no traces of blood left upon it. That would spell his doom, for sure! Even still, Finne's large ears twitched as they heard the conversation that took place at the edge of the river, past a small grove where deer roamed in the morning hours. During the day, Finne saw it as beauty, snow littered about it in icy fragments, light streaming through the European forests--beautiful. However, when night came, there was no beauty. There was anxiousness, and to Finne, confusion as he listened...
"In exchange for the location of the of the one I seek," That cool, calm voice began,"I shall tell unto you the fate of thy beloved daughter."
Silence. Finne knew that each of the wolves were thinking. Then, fear shot like a mighty electric jolt through his fragile heart. They would know! They would know!
"His dubbance is Finne.. The one who killed thy daughter."
Crash! Finne watched as his beady eyes met the great, wide slits of his master. Then, before Finne could even react, he felt the great mass of the elder unkra smash against his own frail facade. He was knocked backward, flying through the air, and then, as the lead unkra slammed full force into Finne's limp body, left upon the icy, moist ground, everything went hazy, red washed over the young wolve's eyes.
"Why? Why did you kill her? Damn you, Finne, I thought you loved her!"
Through the clouded mass of bloodlust that lay like a cloack over his eyes, Finne's soft glance became a hard stare into the eyes of his opponets, while the two onlookers behind watched, mere shadows upon the riverside. "I killed her because I hated her."
"What?"
"That bitch... I could stand it no longer!" Finne's quiet speach had mutated, become a snarl. He felt no shame, any more. He had killed Kaina, and that was the truth. The two had been friends; they had even loved each other, if you could call it that. Then, Finne despised her. Or maybe he just despised the world... She was his only companion, and yet she whined constantly; she was with him, constantly. There was no silence; no peace. Nothing but Kaina. He couldn't give a damn about himself, just Kaina.
So he tempted her. To the river. They met late that night, and Finne drowned her. Drowned her and killed her. Tore her apart, finally rid of his forever plauge.
Yet baleful eyes stared from within the darkness; a silver, moonlit glow. Finne only saw it for a moment before it faded away. The head unkra was now atop him, teeth bared in a deadly snarl. "I'll kill you, bastard. I let your family in my pack, let you be suckled by my own she-wolf, and you still defile us? Damn you to hell!"
Splash! A great splash, and what Finne first thought was water lay beneath him and about him. A dark red liquid seeped about the snow, standing out like black upon white. He heard the Lead Jrora give out a scream, and watched as ripples formed in the blood circling Grack's great carcass, once so mighty, now so dilapidated. These ripples came from a second set of paws, those of a massive, shaggy grey wolf that had stepped in the pool forming around Grack's slit neck. Finne felt intimidated by the reagal beast before him, and, now that the rage that inhabited him had departed, weak and shy before this mighty unkra.
"He had to die. That would make sure you lived, Graa Finne."
Graa! Finne never thought he would earn that term. In the wolven language, it was the equivilant of "Lord" or "Prince", and the unkra's small heart swelled with something like pride as the term was added to his formery useless dubbance. But was this unkra against him?
"Your turn, madame. Step up and take this gracefully. The rest of your pack will be with you soon."
The head krora had once seemed so malicious. Now, she was nothing. Nothing but a bitch about to die. The white krora had no choice... This massive unkra could kill her any moment he pleased. Finne closed his eyes as the she-wolve's head was clasped in the bloody jaws of her powerful adversarie.
Crunch!
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