Post by André on Feb 11, 2005 21:54:31 GMT -5
Blood was life, in more ways than one. Blood was food, and future in more ways than one. Blood meant not having your family slain, and your cubs taken away. Blood meant that the humans would leave, and that no wolf would have to endure what Andre had went through. Blood was what Andre had left to seek: Human blood.
And find it he did, after many a-months trek. After Andre had been trapped, and had nearly lost this leg, and died, he had vowed to attack the Humans, and spill their blood out onto the ground. He had journeyed afar looking for villages, and attacking them in cold blood. Hundreds he had killed every week, sometimes decimating whole valleys of towns. He had travelled consumed by the bloodlust night and day, and always thinking of his son and his mate, whom he would return with no news but that he had slain countless Humans, that he had rid the land surrounding the lush valley from all of the human's artifice and work of wolfbane.
And now Andre returned to his home, a blood-soaked warrior, with far too many years behind him, and far too little before him. Andre had a look of age that had not settled in until just recently, but now it was possible to see how old he actually was, and to see how the years had changed him.
He padded slwoly across the meadows of amber grass. Ice clung to the stalks now, and they glowed like silver strands of angel-hair in the moon. The only sound was the soft rustle of his red pelt against the ice-encased vegetation, and the dull crunch his feet made in the hard snow. The moon was full overhead, and he felt drawn back to his packlands more than he ever had before. He needed to get home, and he needed to see his family once more.
The traveller had returned.
And find it he did, after many a-months trek. After Andre had been trapped, and had nearly lost this leg, and died, he had vowed to attack the Humans, and spill their blood out onto the ground. He had journeyed afar looking for villages, and attacking them in cold blood. Hundreds he had killed every week, sometimes decimating whole valleys of towns. He had travelled consumed by the bloodlust night and day, and always thinking of his son and his mate, whom he would return with no news but that he had slain countless Humans, that he had rid the land surrounding the lush valley from all of the human's artifice and work of wolfbane.
And now Andre returned to his home, a blood-soaked warrior, with far too many years behind him, and far too little before him. Andre had a look of age that had not settled in until just recently, but now it was possible to see how old he actually was, and to see how the years had changed him.
He padded slwoly across the meadows of amber grass. Ice clung to the stalks now, and they glowed like silver strands of angel-hair in the moon. The only sound was the soft rustle of his red pelt against the ice-encased vegetation, and the dull crunch his feet made in the hard snow. The moon was full overhead, and he felt drawn back to his packlands more than he ever had before. He needed to get home, and he needed to see his family once more.
The traveller had returned.
= New Message 
= No New Message