Flat Lined [Private]

[Dakota Spirit]

[This takes place after Dak's threads in Deor]

We would stand in the wind
We were free like water

The wind howled viciously across the desolate marshlands. It's frigid temperature bit at the wolf, digging it's icy fingers deep into his coat to reach for exposed skin until he no longer knew warmth. His blood felt chilled, rushing through his body at blinding speeds, heart pounding like mad. Standing at the thresh hold to Sarnes lands the wolf felt more alone then he ever thought possible. Like removing himself from the comforting embrace of the sun, he had left his familiar homelands in search of this frozen atmosphere. His soul ached for the company of those close to him, for the beloved fae often by his side and for the support only she could offer. His missed the familiar paths of Deor's pack lands and the habitual duties that he held. It was like being a cub again, experiencing a whole new world. The swamps spread out ahead of the wolf, daring him to come further in. He was looking for someone, honoring a promise he'd made during a time that now felt to be years in the past.

Stepping carefully between the bare trees, Dakota entered Sarnes land once and for all. His paws sank readily into the watery mud, the cold robbing his toes of any further sensation. For a moment he paused, mouth twisting up in displeasure and distaste. How anyone could willingly pick this place for their home, the male didn't know. It seemed to him that the trees and water's depths acted as spiderweb, drawing in wayward souls with the promise of something they craved. He'd seen this reflected in his friend's eyes once, or at least it had seemed that way. An aching loneliness that he himself had been able to relate to, enough so that he was now risking now only his own life but the safety of others by venturing so deep into foreign territory. Still, it was so important that he came, that he did what he promised. After all, it was this same sworn statement that had given Dak new life...that had given him a reason to continue on, the strength he needed. And even beyond that, Dak wanted his friend back. He'd known the lost wolf once, the one he searched for, long ago in their youth. They had forged a bond then, a friendship he hadn't even expected. They had been partners for a time, traveling together, surviving together. The dark wolf didn't know what had happened, but somehow that had ended. Somehow when they had met again, things had changed between them. As the memories came back, Dakota's handsome face showed a mask of deep regret. Dane had never said it, at least not then, but Dak's protective mind had been all too willing to take on the blame and responsibility for his friend's condition. After all, it was his responsibility, wasn't it? To watch over those he loved? The male's head nodded slightly at this thought, confirming what his heart already believed. With a better course of action he may well have been able to prevent the events leading up to Dane's fall from grace, his lose of faith. Gritting his teeth sharply, Dakota drove the despairing thoughts from his mind with sheer determination. He would make up for that failure to protect now and in doing so, would restore the link he'd once had with his wayward brother.

Fat drops of rain began to fall from above, landing with small splats in the already formed puddles. Dak swept his ears back against his skull, offering only one quick sneer at the unwelcoming sky before focusing on the path ahead. His deep green eyes shone brightly in the dusky overcast, burning with a fire even he couldn't quite control. The two wolves, him and Dane, had a road that was now intertwined together, both surging toward the final outcome. For good or bad there was no turning back now, no leaving things unfinished. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Dak stepped forward again, moving further into the trap that had already ensnared many before his time.

Now it's cold and we're scared
And we've both been shaken

[Dane]

The masquerade has started now

The trees swayed in the wind, scattered as they were like crooked lines of toy soldiers. Caught off-guard by the tumultuous gust, they dug their roots into the unreliable soil as far as they were able. The beginning of winter had fallen onto the land of Transylvania, a treacherous season where each year seemed more harsh and bitter than the last. There were no pleasant winters, for all were devastating to the land and its inhabitants as though Wolfbane himself had harnessed the power of ice and snow. As was to be expected, some areas suffered more than others, and while the hellish time of year was by no means relenting for any sect of the forest, there were some lands still that seemed doomed to misery moreso than the rest.

The swamplands to the north were frozen, though not completely, for Winter itself was not enough to tame the viscous sinkholes dispersed throughout the Sarnes territory. The marshland was like a planet in itself, isolated as it was from the rest of the world. It seemed the perfect environment for monsters to dwell, and in a way, they did. The murky landscape was home to the dregs of the forest, pitiful wretches who had no hope of seeking salvation elsewhere. Confined to the cesspools they festered, bitter grudges and vengeful desires left to mold the individuals until they became completely unrecognizable for what they used to be. Sullen creatures, they resembled creeping rats or slinking snakes, anything besides the regal creatures they had been before entering the badlands.

Padding with ease over the moist terrain, a tri-hued mann moved effortlessly with calculated steps. He had long since made the land his home, nearly a year he had been their captive, and his actions were practiced and careful. Such sure-footedness had taken him endless failures to learn, though the value of the skills he now possessed far outweighed the errors of the past. The position he held was that of a warrior, and it showed in the thick muscles beneath his muddy pelt. Only slightly larger than an average male, his size was still nothing out of the ordinary. Even his pelt consisted of unremarkable hues; brown and gray mingled together, fading to a light tan on his legs and underbelly and darkening to black along his back and tail. His only striking feature, perhaps unusual enough to make up for his average appearance, was his eyes. Cursed with two opposing hues, the left was an unnerving shade of amber while the right was a cold steel with all the bite of winter held within it. Rhythmically his legs moved, his muddied paws carrying him farther from the dens and closer to the front-line.

He was on one of his self-assigned patrols; a venture that took him through the labyrinth of trees and along the perimeter of the swamp. Since his admission to the misfit pack, he held great admiration for the Drappa of Sarnes, Shunke, and made it his personal duty to assist her in any way possible. He had practically crawled to her feet, a hollow shell of the mann he once had been. In need of support and at his wit's end, he had turned to the twisted in hopes they might provide him with the kinship he so craved, and had been deprived of on more than one occasion. The most recent instance left Dane lost and alone while his friend was presumably off gallavanting with other, more desirable company. The cut had left a deep, irrevocable scar on the gray mann's heart, and a grudge that ran even deeper than the pain. The mere thought of the ebon mann caused his hackles to rise; Their last encounter had not been pleasant, for they had both walked away with more than just hurt feelings.

A light rain began to fall, small drops cascading down from the dismal heavens. The dreary weather no longer phased him, he had grown used to being more wet than dry; yet another sacrifice he had been less than happy to make, but had grown accustomed to nonetheless. Overcast days no longer affected his mood, for his emotions had slipped into an endless continuum of apathy; they no longer changed with the weather, but had been molded into constant detatchment. Few matters of interest ever occurred in the swamp, save for the occasional skirmish with a fellow pack member. With life being so dull, it was only a matter of time before the gods sent a disruption his way. Unfortunately, rather than it be a fresh distraction, it came instead in the form of a healing wound torn open. A snarl rang out nearby against the otherwise calm silence. It was short, and not directed at him, though it instantly caught his attention. Hackles bristling, he bounded towards the source of the sound, his paws kicking up splashes of mud while avoiding the spontaneous sinkholes. The telltale sound of muck being suctioned from its dormant state revealed an artless trespasser. Their scent reeked of a foreign pack, one he was unfamiliar with. It smelled bitter to him, as did most things outside of his known world. Through the trees was a silhouette, dark as coal it moved slowly, unsure of its next steps. Rushing with ease towards the unsuspecting form, Dane's fangs were bared and his tail was held high in dominion. Stopping before the stranger, he almost started backward from the recognition of the mann's face. "Dakota," he hissed, expression contorted into one of disgust and sheer abhoration. "You have some nerve, trespassing on foreign soil. These lands most of all." He spat, his tones rising in anger. His vision blurred, the image of Dakota losing its clarity until it became the face of man, of loss, of disappointment. He no longer saw a wolf before him, but a dark manifestation of all that had scathed and tormented him. "You don't know the mistake you've made in coming here, but you soon will!" His low growl escalated to a roar as he lunged forward, his lips pulled back and fangs reaching for the ebon male's throat.

And you have faded into the crowd

[Dakota Spirit]

Black and empty, the absence of life. Such words echoed softly in the male's mind, describing perfectly the feelings he now carried. It was like the swamps had a power to them, something that he could understand. The quite was unnatural, making the lands seem even more dead around him. The darkness closed in, entering all recesses of his mind. Dak felt so out of place, so lost, as if he was right back at the edge of reality. Even his dark skinned proved a fault in the grey atmosphere, causing him to stand out and keeping him from using stealth to move through the hostile environment. No, he was truly out of element...this was Dane's place. A small quite chuckle escaped him as those thoughts lingered briefly. Since they were young Dane had always been a rogue, an outsider...even Dak had been able to recognize this. His personality lent to a kerl's life, desiring privacy with the occasional bout of company. It seemed ironic to him now, that Dane was the one who fit in and he was the intruder, going places where he didn't belong.

Flicking his ear to the side, Dak paused for a moment in mid step. He thought he'd heard something but wasn't quite. Everything seemed to echo here, causing the reliability of his hearing to fall drastically. Lifting his nose slightly, Dakota took in lung fulls of the pungent air. There was definitely someone coming nearer. Words came to him then, this time spoken rather then whispers of his mind. The male barely had time to register the voice, let alone the words, his name spat with such vengeance, before the form of another came sailing from the gloom. The dark male's voice burst from him in a thundering snarl as he leaped from the grey wolf's path, sending water and mud splattering in his landing. The splashes sloshed up against his legs, surged thickly against his chest, coloring the fur there the same murky brown that marred the ground. His sharp eyes turned to lock onto his attacker's form, flaring brightly in a latent hostility. "Dammit Dane, what in the hell is the matter with you?" The words slipped from his mouth long before Dak could stop himself. There was such venom there, anger he could not explain. It wasn't the first time in recent events that Dak found himself experiencing feelings he wasn't quite in control of, that he couldn't contain. It was as if this situation had taken on the weight of every injustice he had ever experience, from the lose of his family to the betrayal of friends. It felt as if his once trusting nature had been twisted about, stretched and abused until he had closed himself off. Until he could no longer trust those that mattered, and it wasn't fair. After all, Dak had tried so hard. He'd given his life and time to others trying to make things easier for them, to make their own existence smoother. Of all wolves, who was Dane to call him out? Why did he get to be so angry?

Gritting his teeth again, Dakota tried hard to calm himself. He hadn't come here for this, for a fight. Didn't Dane remember their past encounter? That there had been more to it then the fight between old friends? It seemed not and for a moment Dak's anger dissipated. He remembered where he was, he remembered the thick chocking mists that seemed to whisper of promised redemption. In that moment the male's heart clenched tightly in the same pain and regret he'd felt earlier. His face seemed cast in the shadow of despair, eyes hollowed out and passionless. His own vision blurred, much as Dane's had, until he no longer saw the crisp shape of his companion. He didn't see what he was doing now, but rather what he hadn't done in the past. Again seeing failure flash before his eyes. It was like a roller coaster, walking on unstable ground, each turn bringing a new surprise, a new regret. His mind leaped from anger to despair so quickly that Dak was beginning to feel dizzy and unwell. "It's this place...", his inner voice spoke quietly. "There is such poison in this place." "I came, like I promised.", he finally said taking a cautious step forward. "This mistake as you say, was made out of loyalty and love for you Dane. I do not relish being in these lands...but I did promise, and I had to honor that. Can't you see clearly anymore? Don't you feel anything but hate?" The male's voice was quite and almost labored, as if he was struggling for breath. In truth Dak was near the point that quick and painless death would almost be favorable. At least then he wouldn't have to face what was right before his eyes.

He'd known in the end, a part of him at least. He'd known that this standoff was a possibility, that whatever he'd seen in Dane standing on that field had been a glitch and nothing more. Saving his friend had been a tall order, something that would take all but a miracle to bring about. And yet, he had refused to accept that it would come to that. He'd wanted success bad enough that the desire had colored his common sense and now, knee deep in the cold marsh Dak was facing the truth. "Please Dane...", he whispered. "Why is it that you hate me so much?"

[Dane]

As his expectant jaws were met only with the cool mist of the swamp, he let out a disappointed snarl. Though he had not hit his target, it was clear he had startled Dakota, and perhaps even riled him to the point of anger. Seeing the ebon knight lose himself to such a petty emotion gave him a sort of small satisfaction. He knew that he himself was not above his temper, though watching this mann lose control brought him smug gratification. The corners of his mouth twitched into a subtle smile, replacing the malice that had been there moments before. "You trespass onto my lands, and you have the nerve to ask of my problems? You're lucky you weren't killed where you stand." His expression was now grave, whatever pleasure he had derived from his friend's rage was now lost. Strangers were rarely greeted warmly in this land, unless one of Sarnes' sirens was out and about, looking for a new plaything. In truth, he probably could have killed Dakota if it had been his true intention, though the intent was muddled in his mind, his true ambition hidden even from himself. Perhaps a part of him had wanted to spare the mann, throwing his aim off course to preserve that pure life. Could the tie of brotherhood really be severed so cleanly? The truth still could have been less chaste than concern; perhaps the muddied mann was simply out of practice.

As the ebon male spoke, his voice was heavy to match his dull eyes. The emerald orbs did not hold their usual sheen, but instead were glazed over with despair and defeat. Finally, he's beginning to understand, a voice within him said proudly. Dane's brow creased in confusion; It was not thinking back that baffled him, but the fact that Dakota had kept his promise afterall. If only he had done so sooner, he thought, remorse battling bitterness. "You're too late," he finally said with a distorted grin. The effect was dizzying, as though the demon of his conscious had grown and was now speaking through him. "I think you're slowly starting to realize, Dakota, that your mistakes cannot all be righted with one honored promise." The pain of trusting again was one he was well aware of, and this time, he would avoid it. "This is my home now," he said with a swipe of his paw, gesturing to the gnarled trees and crooked landscape. "You might say you cast me here, when your abandonment lead me to search for acceptance from someone else, some place more worth my time and devotion than the lonely fox den where you left me." He looked falsely contemplative for a moment before adding, "I suppose, then, that I should be thanking you for your sins... For banishing me to the only place that would have me, this communal hell rather than just a personal one."

His old friend was pleading with him now, begging him, as Dane was running ways through his mind that he could possibly make his intent more clear. The part of him that wanted to forgive and be taken from the putrid entanglements of the swamp was overpowered by his fear of being hurt again. Thus, he had adopted a new personality to adapt to the hard times before him; He would chase his friend out with his hostility, quash his hopes before they became too tempting. "You still don't get it? Dakota, you disappoint me," he spat, his eyes burning with hatred now, while before they had bordered on sympathy. "You are oblivious to your ways, and think that just because you apologize, whoever you have hurt will bend to your will. I'm here to show you, a testament to the cold hard truth, that you can't always have your way." His voice was low and rough, a harsh growl against the tepid, choking air. "So crawl back to your loved ones, Dakota, for I smell them on your pelt. The friends you gained for the loss of just one. I think it was you that won out in the end after all. Let them revel in the sights of their noble, fearless friend who can do no wrong. I will remain your dirty secret here, in this festering place where buried secrets are in abundance. You've come too late to change my mind." His words were final, his tone resolute as he stared the mann down with his hard gaze. In another time, the apology would have been well-received, even gratefully, though the time that had passed had rendered it invalid and insulting.

[Dakota Spirit]

It's been a while since the two of us talked

The two wolves stood face to face, each alive with a different set of emotions. Dak's body was rigid with tension and adrenalin, his heart pumping so hard within his chest that each beat seemed to rock his inner core. He was numb to the cold now, blind to the mists and deaf to the ghostly whispers that lurked there. The world was quite and grey, with only Dane before him and only that moment to focus on. His head ached with that focus, feeling as if it were about to split. He had been a mistake, coming to Sarnes...this he knew now more the ever. For everything was being questioned and doubted, every aspect of his life and way in which he lived it. Nothing made sense anymore and it felt as if his soul was being wretched from it's hiding place, as if the fibers of its being were all being cut, stripped away. Dane's insults rained down on him, pulling all his doubts to the surface. After all, a great deal of his faith had been put into this quest, this ambition. He'd staked a lot on it, too much in the end. And now with hope fading there was nothing for him to cling to and nothing for him to drive for. He might as well be right back on that field, wallowing in the moments before Dane had first appeared.

The blame was there now, clear as day in Dane's malice filled voice. Each word acted as a barb burring itself deep into the dark wolf's heart as he listened to the relentless insults. But Dane was wrong, if only one point alone. The Sarnes wolf would never know, but none of Dak's companions had wished him to come to this place. They had supported his actions out of love, out of the will to be their for a friend but there hadn't been one who'd not first tried to talk him out of course. First Mist with her careful understanding and reassurance, whispering to him the idea that he could not carry the blame for Dane's ravaged life. Then Kai, taking a risk, offering a contradictory opinion of his own. Dak had ignored them all, reassured in the belief that all Dane needed was for someone to reach out. That had been all Dak had ever wanted for himself when he'd been in a similar situation, when his life had felt in shambles. It had never come and the male had long felt compelled to save others from a similar fate, to offer them that reassurance before it was too late. Such had been the plan for Dane, the hope...but it was too late, there would be no salvation for either of them. In a different time, a different place, Dak felt himself again failing to save those that mattered.

Still, it was not just sadness that lingered in the wolf's mind. The anger had returned, almost as a byproduct to the despair that was born from Dane's words. It manifested itself more readily, feeding on the adrenalin in his system, on his desire to lash out now at anything close. Dak's eyes turned on Dane, locking with his own bi-colored orbs. His voice came harsh and edged, rumbling with the growl in his throat. "I did not abandon you. You will not taint who I am with your ill-conceived words." His words held strength in them, a hardness that suggested that Dakota was speaking to more then just accusations of his friend. For try as he might, even in the grips of fury, the blame that formed in his mind were not entirely for the grey wolf before him. Not even primarily so, for his heart still twisted with pity for wolf. Instead, Dak's eyes swept the land around them, unyielding in their hate. He glanced up at the sky, sneering as he did so, damning the gods that were supposed to live their for their continued let downs. For the repeated offense that they afflicted upon Dak's life by taking from him what he desired most. "I'll not take the blame any longer.", Dakota continued. "I won't shoulder the weight of this burden alone and I will no longer allow you to shame me with your guilt. You want this place? You want to stay here? Then you stay."

The male spoke as much for himself as he did for Dane, each statement being made to reaffirm the choices he knew needed making. Dak couldn't continue to carry all the weight of this encounter, his mind couldn't take it. By giving the demands out loud, Dakota was making promises to himself. Swearing that he would no longer let this situation eat away at him, distract from those that truly deserved his attention. He would leave this place knowing that he'd done all he could do, that the outcome was beyond his control. And he would grieve for his lose, for what had been taken, but he would not allow the blame to shadow his existence any longer. "But make your choice, Dane.", Dak finished, his voice echoing out to a soft quite tone. "If this is to be your home then we must truly part for I will not venture here again. I cannot reach you here and I can no longer help you. Sarnes will be all you've got." It was hard for Dak, to let go in this way but he was finally seeing it was necessary. He was finally making a choice that put his own wellbeing before the needs of another.

Knowing things would never be the same
With your empty heart and mine full of pain

[/color]

[Dane]

My independence is calling my name
A doubtful voice divides my faith

For a moment, his words seemed to linger on the still air. The hurt was clear enough on his opponent's face, bringing him both relief and sadness. It pained him to have to resort to such cruelness, for he had far exceeded any set boundaries, and had passed the line of any hurt that his ebon brother had deserved. Such was the point he was trying to make though, for he knew that if he could anger this mann enough, inject enough venom into his heart and burst his very soul, that all feelings he had for the muddied mann could be purged, and he would be forgotten with much more ease than if Dane showed any sign of relenting. It had been Dane's earlier weakness that had brought Dakota to the swamp to face him now. He had been caught off guard by his friend's mutual misery, and had pitied his situation as much as his own, enough to reflect on his decision to stay with Sarnes. He had made the mistake of faltering; Dakota had seen this uncertainty, the lost expression in his eyes. He had taken the small sign as a miracle, a hurt that could be repaired with a proper apology, a life that could still be saved. He had put too much faith in Dane, and too much faith in himself, which only made the letdown that much more devastating when the moment of truth finally came.

He had wanted to forgive the ebon male, and in a way, though not a way he could ever show, he did. He understood the situation more than Dakota realized, though it did not stop his charade. Dakota had found a family, he had made new friends that would care for him and who worried for his well being. Even his venture to Sarnes was a danger not many would brave, even if tempted by some promise made moons ago. A tightness welled in Dane's heart for the pain he had caused rather than the hurt he had been victim to. Neither of the wolves would escape unscathed by this final encounter; One would take leave losing something he had thought he could certainly save, and the other would depart knowing he could have saved the both of them if only he had relinquished his fear. Dane hoped more than anything that Dakota would eventually forget him and be able to carry on, as strong as he was, but more than that, Dane hoped that somewhere in Dakota's heart he would be forgiven.

Dane was surprised by Dakota's tenacity; his words held more sting than he could have expected from his thusfar sullen friend. The corners of his mouth turned up in a grin, though not for any reason that Dakota would understand. "It seems you've already been tainted, though it was no work of mine. The truth can work miracles all by itself." The ebon male turned his glare to the sky as though he aimed to extinguish the heavens with his malice and disdain. He reveled in his friend's anger, convinced that he would have little trouble persuading him to leave both Sarnes and the memories of his old friend behind. Rather than offer some comfort at his compliance, Dakota's words were condemning; it was all too clear now how impossible it was to turn back. Forgiveness seemed a thing of the past, a luxury shared between cubs who committed harmless blunders and later exchanged apologies as easily as placing blame. There was no place now for absolution; salvation had been dealt, and his was in the form of this murky, draining moor.

"You are right," he spoke, his voice deep and almost threatening. "We each have our own burdens, now, in our separate worlds. I choose to reside here, as I've stated before, where your presence can no longer burden me as your absence once did." He let out a gruff chuckle that grew in intensity and seemed to shake the air. "You seem to think that my living here is a mistake, a sin, but you couldn't be farther from the truth. I've grown immune to its initial poison; in return it shelters me from the rest of the world's menace. It truly is a haven, though not all are fortunate enough to see the truth through the mist." His eyes shone eerily, reflecting the swirling steam that had risen from the warm ground into the chilled air.

Turning on all fours, he no longer faced his friend, but the open wetlands. "Have I made my choice clear enough to you now?" His rough voice dripped with spite, a sting that even he was not immune to. Taking a few steps forward, he spoke again without slowing, his stern voice insinuating a threat. "I don't expect to see you again." Without another word he padded reluctantly off through the mud, far from his friend whom he had to surrender, into the depths of the swamp that was calling him home.

My independence only complicates
It's not enough to meet half way

[Shunké]

((holy crap 'tis late. and yeah, crappy ending, couldn't think of anything else :/ ))

The cold chill from the north had brought most of the swamp inhabitants further south, for what little good it did. At least the shallow streams from her majesty's icy cap has vomited ice into the northern marsh, making it thick and just about a certain death trap to all who happen to trend carelessly. It made for a good scavenging trip for the tired and hungry, especially since the chill had a habit of preserving any carcass that have fallen in its wake.

It wasn’t unseen for the predators that lurked this unbecoming god forsaken spit of marsh to be found scavenging upon carcasses that lay about, dining on both entrails and marrow, and the ebon she-wolf was no exception. Shunké learned years ago that when she was alone, it was best not to exert any of her energy trudging through the filth after some leer, but to take what was in front of her. Every now and then she came upon a struggling soul thrashing around chest high in the muck, only then would she find a rare moment to dine upon the fresh. It was the T-bone of Sarnes, an easy kill with a fine meal. That was, if one was able to get to the viscera before it sunk into the thick murky abyss.

Today wasn’t the fae’s lucky day, however. She only came upon a thin deer carcass, most which was already picked upon by the residential foxes that roamed by. That didn’t both her, she got enough out of the piece of waste to last her for a day and a half, at least until she came upon something a bit fresher. Trotting at a steady pace, the Drappa of the wastelands continued onward, her nares flaring at the scent she found most intriguing: a visitor.

It wasn’t very often some unexpected soul came wandering into the dark emaciated drappa’s homelands, but when one did- it was surely a sight to behold. They knew not how to tread on these terrains, and mostly were too heavy pawed to stay atop of the cold mud. If they tried to start something, they would surely loose. Sure, Shunké wasn’t exactly thrilled another putnar had invaded her homeland, but this particular varg was no threat to her. His scent was that of a pack dubbed Deor, and he was alone. Perhaps lost. Shunké chuckled to herself, lost. What an idiotic though, as if someone would continue their way down this road. ‘Or perhaps their a spy, come to gather information to see best fit to penetrate your defense? You’re not the most well respected varg, if even respected at all,’ came the snide remark of a male inside the fae’s head. This, of coarse, just make Shunké give a snorting laugh. “Deor? Yeah, dream on,” she answered aloud without a second though. Maybe Ge-Rad, but not Deor. What kind of threat could they possibly possess? It was a suicidal move for sure. ‘Just keep thinking that, go on, doubt me. I’m sure you’ll end up sorry, you just wait and watch…’

Shunké had stopped listening to the curse she called Tarquin, as large ebon audits had perked forward, catching the distant quarreling of two fellow vargs. Her body grew rigid, as if she just spied her pray, as bicolour gold and maroon oculars desperately searched for the source of the disembodied vocals through the steady dipping of the crying skies. Slowly, as she pressed forward, she could make out the beige and brown molten mann as her own son, Dane, with a darker shadow- the Deorian. He also wore an ebon coat like herself, the only difference was his coat was both thick and healthy. For a moment, Shunké ceased to come closer, her gaze just drifting upon the duo. Shunké secretly wondered if this mann was perhaps part of Dane’s past, or maybe family. ‘Looks like some cares enough to come and “rescue” your so called son,’ Tarquin chuckled lightly. ‘More that I can say about you- a brushed off piece of land made for a misfit varg who has nothing better to do then piddle away the time pretending to be "honorable",, and most of all would never be seen again.’ Shunké gritted her maroon stained teeth together, pushing the voice aside. She wouldn’t let him get to her, not now.

But catching a bit of conversation, Shunké could only confirm that this ebon stranger was indeed here to take back her child. Anger burned thought the fae, she would never let anyone take her son. He belonged here, and by the looks of it- he thought so too. As the grubby brown mann left the stranger, Shunké found opportunity knocking. Surely she wouldn’t let the stranger grace her homeland without the please of meeting the one who ruled here, would she? Hackles bristling, Shunké began to walk towards the mann, her head held high in dominance. “Surely you wouldn’t think such a strong promising mann like Dane would return to a world where it was painfully obvious that he didn’t belong?” Shunké growled at the mann loudly. “I’ll make this simply for your pea-sized brain to understand. It’s obvious that Dane has found a place where he is both wanted and loved, and he is quite happy here. It’s obvious whoever you are, he wants nothing to do with you. Now, why don’t you just turn your pretty hide around and return to your dearly beloved lazy Dragga, and life where everything is sugar coated and everyone wants to think the world is made of pretty rainbows and lollypops. Dane won’t be coming with you, and that was his choice. Remember that,” Shunké smirked at the emerald eyed stranger. “Now, with that said and cleared up, kindly GET YOUR PRETTY BOY HIDE OFF OF MY LAND!“ the ebon Drappa finished with a nasty snarl, spitting as she snapped viciously at the mann, her thinning tail held erect.

[Dakota Spirit]

[Decided to finally slap an ending on this. Thanks both of you, for finally bringing the plot full circle. I really enjoyed it! All actions were discussed beforehand...]

Looking back on it, Dakota would say that everything seemed to pass in a few seconds time. Words washed over him with the same ease the the mists rolled by, ignorant of anything standing in their way. He would remember the moments in cold clarity, each passing with a burst of emotion that rocked his very soul. Anger, sadness, helplessness, strength, all pumped through him with a dizzying speed. Looking back he would say that it the death of his friendship with Dane had been quick, like a knife cutting the last threads that connected them. Looking back it would all seem a blur. But now, standing in the thick of it all, each minute seemed to pass with an excruciating lag.

Flicking his ears as casually as possible, the wolf's face was a blank mask as he listened to the grey male. The pride in him now rode the surface of his emotion, forcing his features to remain calm and collected. A feat he'd mastered through years of looking into the cold and dark and realizing that no one was coming to help. That whatever he hoped to accomplish, he would have to be done by him and him alone. Beneath the surface though, deep in his heart, the world was breaking. Fissures snaked through his subconscious, threatening everything he thought he knew. Relationships that had once seemed solid now quivered with uncertainty, brandishing doubt as if it were the punch line to a long awaited joke. Inside his heart sank and his soul ran for the shadow's cover. Inside, nothing made sense anymore.

As Dane finished his monologue, Dak stood silent. He watched as the wolf turned from him, taking slow steps further and further away. He watched until nothing remained of him, until the one he'd once known as a friend disappeared completely. And he stood there for moments after, breaking stance only when his presence was detected by another. The wolf that approached him was one with a pelt as dark as his own, head and tail high she spoke with an authority that made her standings in these lands clear. Her words came to him in a rush, meant to insult and demean...but they fell on deaf ears. He'd heard too much in the past days, experienced too much hurt to care about the words of a stranger. Her vile tongue seemed of as little importance as the fact that he now stood in an unfamiliar land surrounded by it's hostile occupants. Turning his blocky head in what felt like slow motion, Dak looked at the wolf with eyes that somehow seemed to carry less light then before. The will to really fight or quarrel with someone seemed to have left the wolf momentarily, leaving him statue still as the femme continued to move forward. Even as she stood before him, voice rising high with her commands, he looked on without emotion, devoid of the fiery spirit that usually buzzed through his veins.

But as her teeth opened, stained with the blood of past kills, Dak's mind finally began to click again. Feeling the warmth of her breath on his skin sent a shudder down the male's spin, awakening the muscles that bunched just beneath his skin. Instinct kicked in, the need to live and protect oneself, the desire to never be on the losing end. Snapping his head to the side, Dak managed to move just in time, so that the Drappa's vicious fangs gazed against the side of his face rather then latch on his more vulnerable muzzle or ears. Three symmetrical tears opened in his skin, snaking around his eye with blessed fortune. A quick snarl was forced from his throat, a mix of pain and frustration. It burst from him as the blood began to flow, dark and thick against his coat. When he again turned his eyes to his attacker, they were no longer dull in lifeless. An old fire burned there, as if a fire had reawakened the anger inside him. After all, this was the ultimate cause of his disintegrated friendship. If ever there was one who owned the blame, this fae was it. "Take him, swamp snake.", the male hissed. "Take him with the understanding that Dane is no longer brain dead, no longer ignorant to the world outside this hell." Pulling up the corners of his lips, Dak flashed the very tips of his fangs, more in returned flair then threat. "Take him knowing that part of Dane's heart...the tiniest part, will never be your's again." He was assuming of course, holding onto the belief that somewhere deep down his words had affected the grey wolf. That part of him was equally sad over their parting, despite his quick brush off.

Turning from the fae then, Dakota took his own leave. His steps were quick and sure, slogging through the mud with as much grace as was possible. Stopping a few paces from the pack's boarder line, Dak glanced back for the final time at all that had happened here and all that was being left behind. As he did so, drops of blood fell from his face to land in the shallow puddles below. Lowering his gaze, he watched as the crimson drops blossomed into swirling flowers on the murky surface, as they too dispelled into nothing. And in the moment he felt himself splitting, a dividing of his past and future. Marked by the fall of his lifeblood, part of him would aways remain here in the swamps. Part of him would always mourn Dane, would always hold out for him. But there was the future too, and the rest of him had to live in that time, had to tend to all that would come. Dane's parting words came back to him then, whispered as if by a passing ghost. I don't expect to see you again. "Don't worry...", he whispered in quite reply, turning his head back toward the path home. "You won't."

The End.

..Oh it hurts to live today