They are the ghosts of innocence, that have awoken from my dreams. Welcome to your nightmare, say good-bye to everything. All your past obscenities, they have determined where I stand. Echoing cries, in the time that it began. Hear me now, feel my blade, there is no more time for apologies. Malevolent emotions take hold of me, are you ready to begin your trip to the other side? Death is an old friend of mine.
There are those who say he was a great hero, others...nothing but a worthless cur, crying and begging for a scrap. But those were the days he had nothing to lose. A night came when the handsome beggar went for a stroll, meeting a bonnie young lass, and her younger brothers – barely two seasons old. He had been but three years aged, and she the same. Oh they flirted and carried on, mad-struck with love and near drunk on that high cloud. Walking on air, one might say. And when the time came they were declared mates under the healer's tree. In that very same week, she became pregnant with his pups, and he adored her, and the unborn. He showered her with everything she could ever want for – sometimes he wouldn't stop until she told him it was more than enough. She was out walking, her paws made swollen by the life within her, and she simply walked it off. His was a beauty worth stealing. His guard went down, a single moment...he should never have drifted to sleep....
Awoken by painful howls and screams, Jack's eyes popped open, his dark ears flicking about as he listened for the source of his beloved's shrill cries. It is not to be, the horrid noises go away and he snarls his hatred of them as they run from the daylight. How dare they vex his dreams tonight, how dare they make him live the best and worst, pull the hard shell of the scab off that deep wound; make him feel the love and the dread he felt for her and their offspring. That pretty tan and white face shows the death behind the beauty and he lets out a vicious snarl. He scores the earth beneath his paws as he leaps to them, his nails raking deep rivets in the ground. Stretching out his stiff and travel-worn back, Jack takes in his surroundings as he starts to move toward a nearby stream, his eyes glaring hatred at the world of the living. He takes his drink and sits on his haunches, the scars over his body stinging as if he had just received them. Same shit, different day. He sighs and begins to make his way through this desolate place.
Truly, the male cannot see how marvelous this land is, his eyes jaded to it by years of guilt and ghosts of the past. Soon he comes through the edge of the woodlands and makes his way to the wide open fields, where his eyes lay upon a large group of canines; a pack meeting he supposed. He moves toward the group, watching as some of them looked rather mystified at the others. They paired off, some leaving the area though they did not go far. There were so many wolves present it was rather difficult to watch all of them, and in trying, Jack forgot the past for a singular moment. He moves through the throng of bodies, looking for at least someone to talk to him, though he highly doubts they would. It seemed as if they had a purpose, or perhaps it was the loners soothing that innate need for socialization. Either way, Jack wanted a conversation, now who would it be he would converse with?