"oh, it would've been, could've been"
c i l l i a n
Time seemed to pass like flickering lights.
Each time the light blinked, something new seemed to have occurred. And then it would disappear again and plunge him into darkness. And he would know nothing. All became still and quiet. The world was no more like so many dreams.
The light came on and Cillian blinked. He recalled slipping away from his uncles and father like loose dirt under his claws. His salmon eyes twitched nervously to take in the new land around him. It would seem he had picked his way down one ridge to trade it for another. Here was grassy and light, summer sun melting down the incline. Cillian lifted his paws and drifted up the ridge, dark fog and empty promises.
His light flickered on and off as he made the monotonous climb. The sun threatened afternoon but the heat was still akin to the first ring of hell. Cillian panted as he moved, thick bands of saliva unleashing themselves down his chin. Pressure felt as though it was building in his chest. These feelings confused the young wolf and he wondered if it was because he had left his small pack. The wind still tasted of ashes, as it had when he had first come to this land. Moladion… that was what his family had been calling it. The word tasted of bile in his mouth. The heat beat harder. The light flickered.
Cillian sought sanctuary under a scraggly tree some way up the ridge. The thin branches offered some shade but the wolf’s insides still churned. He shook himself from tail to muzzle, trying to rid himself of the ants that seemed to climb through his fur, but the action only served in making him sick. Cillian wretched, his stomach heaving, and lost his lunch there under the tree. He shivered, his eyes glazing over. His light went on and off unsteadily.
Surely he must be sick. Perhaps he was allergic to this whole damn place. The wolf stumbled away from the tree, heading back up the ridge. Always up. He got it in his brain that once he reached the top he would feel better. He ran his tongue over his teeth, mouth gummy and dry. Water. It was water that he truly wanted right now. Cillian trudged on, his ears swiveling, nose twitching for some sign of relief. It was some time before that sweet sound hit him. Rushing, flowing, gurgling. Cillian made a gurgling noise himself and lurched forward. It was not long before he found himself standing by the creek.
The wolf dropped his head to the water and gulped eagerly. His mouth was soothed but his body still crawled with ants he could not see. Cillian turned to sink his teeth into his own flesh, biting and worrying at the invisible pests. It was through this movement that he caught a disturbance at the edge of his vision. He snapped his head back to stare downriver. And there she was. A pale and delicate creature with eyes like the small flowers that used to grow outside his den. Moisture dripped from her muzzle, and as she lifted her head he could see the strange markings that adorned her face. Cillian simply looked at her, his orange-pink stare blank and empty. Water fell from his own snout in large, spitty globs.
His light flickered off.
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"worse than you would ever know"
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