Romance is in the air...this is probably the most beautiful and scenic place in Blossom Forest. For the athletic and determined to come with their mates, for time away from pups. Only adults may come here; some of the ledges are too far apart for teens or pups to cross and some too high to scale.
Honey, you should see me in a crown. Scarletta Foxx IP: 75.69.70.40 Posted on August 6, 2013 at 05:58:31 PM by Jim Moriarty
The red teen sat staring into the sunset, distanced from the rest of the wolves of the cliffs. He was barely a step back from the steepest bit of the mountains face,at least three leagues of sheer, weather smoothed stone, with nothing to catch on to before the hard impact of the ground far below. The heaviness of the boy's thoughts plus the lovely stains of pink and red light made that fall seem particularly attractive. He could easily make a suicide look like an accident if he wanted to...
Who would care anyway?
He was just that young assassin with a reputation as bloody as the color of his pelt. Though no one ever recognized him as who he was, he heard frightened whispers about "that demon boy, Jim Moriarty" as he made his way silently through the brush in late hours of the night.
He was barely a teen anyway... What had he done to himself? Well, sending his sister Ha- no, he couldn't even think of her name if he wanted to keep his composure. Anyway, sending her to certain death to save his own skin had hurt more than he thought it would. And the last three words she ever said to him still stung like raw flesh that had been whipped only minutes ago. "Never forgive me," was all she said, and he could only guess at what the actual meaning was though he'd gone through every possible interpretation.
Sadness washed over him, and he stood, his face hardening as he noted the knew closeness to his own end. Sighing, he glanced down.
And heard Hattie's voice singing to him from the back of his mind.
Jim jumped backwards, breath hitching and tears pooling thickly in the corners of his eyes. Then realization struck him, and he started to tremble remembering the tune.
God's ain't gonna help ya son
You'll be sorry for what ya done
Them gods gonna hurt ya son
When you play with a loaded gun
When you play with a loaded gun
"NO!" He tried to scream, but his throat was so dry and choked with unreleased sobs that it only came out as a hoarse whisper. Another voice joined the one in his head, sweet and accented. Adding soft harmonies in minor intervals. No, no, he forgot her long ago...
They ain't gonna catch ya when ya fall
You'll be pleadin' while you're bleedin'
They ain't gonna hear ya son
Don't care 'bout what ya done
They ain't gonna help ya, son
You'll be sorry for what ya done
Be sorry for what you done
Then he collapsed, shaking and breathing shallowly. He heard something snap faintly Was it his mind? Or just someone stepping on a stick some distance away? Footsteps were coming closer, and he was suddenly scared to look. He was probably hallucinating now...