Post by Gryffin on Jan 3, 2006 1:15:57 GMT -5
Gryffin's emerald orbs were streaked with grief and pain. She had not seen her father in moons and yet when she finally reunited with the great crimson male it was on his dying day. Gryffin remembered cursing the gods before, when she was younger for the death of vargs and a brilliant Lyft had told her that death was not something one should be angry and grieved about and that she should not curse the gods for the deaths.. But then why was Leohlic dying?
Gryffin let out a pitiful whine and padded closer to the jittering dragga. What was she to do now? Gryffin was perceived herself like a whimpering pup. But she knew she must stand strong. She lifted herself and she sighed, her crimson ears, that bore the trademark red of Leohlic, pulled against her skull.
She could detect the agitation that Fiory brought to Serg and Gryffin could care less. She merely acknowledged the situation with a flick of her drooping tail.
Thinking back Gryffin remembered when she had first met eye to eye with her father. She was a reckless pup and a bundle of energy and she had tried on endless accounts to surprise her father with a tackle or a pounce. She also remembered how she had wanted ever so badly to join the balkar when her brother's had joined but was told that she could not. still she crept into the balkar lands. Her father scolded her everytime but she still came back.
But Gryffin was thrown forcefully from the shelves of the past and memories to the daunting present and reality. Gryffin shook her muzzle and nudged her father. "You will be able to meet up with mother now." She said softly. and oh if only wolves could cry. "Father" Gryffin nudged and licked his muzzle, "In my womb lives the future of List. Your blood will live on, and List will prosper again and forever thrive.I will not let you down father. and I will tell them the story of a great Dragga. The Dragga of List, the First of the balkar. Who their grand sire was. Your story will live on as will mother's" Gryffin said and ran her tongue over his blood spattered muzzle once more. "You will not be forgotten"
Gryffin sat on her haunches and with that she sent a shivering howl, that told a story of a great dragga into the frosty black air of the balkar terrain. A place where it was rare to hear such a high pitched song sung from the chasms of a femme. But as soon as it started the song ended. But Gryffin could still hardly believe her father was dying.
Gryffin let out a pitiful whine and padded closer to the jittering dragga. What was she to do now? Gryffin was perceived herself like a whimpering pup. But she knew she must stand strong. She lifted herself and she sighed, her crimson ears, that bore the trademark red of Leohlic, pulled against her skull.
She could detect the agitation that Fiory brought to Serg and Gryffin could care less. She merely acknowledged the situation with a flick of her drooping tail.
Thinking back Gryffin remembered when she had first met eye to eye with her father. She was a reckless pup and a bundle of energy and she had tried on endless accounts to surprise her father with a tackle or a pounce. She also remembered how she had wanted ever so badly to join the balkar when her brother's had joined but was told that she could not. still she crept into the balkar lands. Her father scolded her everytime but she still came back.
But Gryffin was thrown forcefully from the shelves of the past and memories to the daunting present and reality. Gryffin shook her muzzle and nudged her father. "You will be able to meet up with mother now." She said softly. and oh if only wolves could cry. "Father" Gryffin nudged and licked his muzzle, "In my womb lives the future of List. Your blood will live on, and List will prosper again and forever thrive.I will not let you down father. and I will tell them the story of a great Dragga. The Dragga of List, the First of the balkar. Who their grand sire was. Your story will live on as will mother's" Gryffin said and ran her tongue over his blood spattered muzzle once more. "You will not be forgotten"
Gryffin sat on her haunches and with that she sent a shivering howl, that told a story of a great dragga into the frosty black air of the balkar terrain. A place where it was rare to hear such a high pitched song sung from the chasms of a femme. But as soon as it started the song ended. But Gryffin could still hardly believe her father was dying.