aurora borealis- noun plural: An aurora that occurs in northern regions of the earth. Also called northern lights.
In the middle of a dense forest of coniferous trees lies the Aurora Borealis pack, its name coming from its location. At certain times of the year, the northern lights appear, dancing almost magically in the sky. A narrow trail leads you through the close evergreens. Giving into temptation, you begin moving your paws. By venturing into this territory, you are venturing into a land belonging to a pair of feared leaders. You have heard rumors of them...but you decide to take your chances and hope that the tales of blood and death are merely fabricated stories to scare wolves.
You have walked nearly five minutes before you realize the sound of paws stepping somewhere from behind. Deciding that you've made a mistake, you quickly turn around, but find that you cannot go any further. Standing before you is one of the mighty kings you've heard of. His blood red pelt clings over perfectly toned bands of muscle. But that isn't what causes such fear in your veins. One of his amber eyes has a horrid, bleeding scar across it, and his good eye seems to stare right through you. His face is expressionless, giving off none of his intentions. You cower away as his jaws part.
"I'm Hell Demon."
His voice was deep and cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Right where he left off, another voice picks up from behind you. You whirl around and find yourself facing another male with steely muscles beneath his pelt, which seems to consist of every shade of brown. He had startled you, and you're amazed how you hadn't at all detected his approach.
"And I am Ghost...we're the alphas of Aurora Borealis."
His deep voice was laced thickly with a Native American accent. His own golden eyes are directing a harsh glare your way. Now you're caught in the middle...your breathing has become heavy in your panic and you're not sure which to face.
"You've foolishly trespassed into our territory. You face the one called Hell Demon's whose voice is once more addressing you. Get out, or become a corpse along our border."
It's obvious they mean business. So now it's up to you...take your chances and stay, or heed their warning and waste no time getting out with your life.
IP: 2.223.45.195
Posted on April 22, 2014 at 06:00:29 PM by Destan.
Life was returning to Blossom, the lingering winter beginning to vanish and release its suffocating grip on the world. Thin snow still blanketed the earth, falling leisurely in delicate flakes every now and again. The storms that had raged havoc upon the lands had ceased their rumbles and moans and more than before, the sun managed to push past the whitening clouds and warm the earth below- if only for a short while. Colour was gradually returning to the leaves, though some still lay in the depths of sleep. Tree’s were beginning to lose their bareness, covering their naked branches with coats of brilliant green and yet some still hung onto the wisps of winter dragging it out for as long as they could. The weather remained cold and animals, big and small, rarely left the warmth of their dens if only to hunt or retrieve more bedding to keep their bodies heated. Yet it was warmer somehow- signalling the start of spring and new life. A wolf, clearly entering the early stages of adolescence, perched his gangly body precariously upon a rise- a large boulder to be in fact. Emerald orbs searched whatever land could be seen, frantically looking for something unknown. Anxiety radiated off his form, as it always did, and his body quivered with forceful whimpers every time he failed to find the wolves he was looking for. Destan had rarely left the den after the disappearance of his adopted family and had grown weak and fretful over the days he had been left alone. Though he had now ventured away from the home his mother had created, it was not too far away and the young lad could still smell the faint perfume of his mum and sister. The boy had changed over the past few months, a change that had frightened the life out of him and still did. His once short and stubby frame was growing tall and thin and his paws had almost doubled in size which didn’t help the naturally clumsy boy. It had scared him that much that the poor lad had refused to move at all- sitting in the same position for two days straight. Muscles, though only small, were beginning to show under his thickening coat but with a lack of correct nutrients the brujo was growing dangerously thin. All of this combined and the lad was completely out of proportion- looking as if he had simply been thrown together. Yet small signs of handsome features were showing on his grey-scale face evidence of the charm he would carry when an adult. After what seemed like endless hours of scanning the earth for his family, the young lad was tittering on the edge of giving up. A sigh of disappointment had rippled from his snowy chest and after a final whimper, the boy had turned and jumped from the rock barely able to land squarely on his feet. Claws grasped at the loose earth below and after a sudden flutter of anxiety, the lad managed to regain his composure and set off towards the comfort of the den. The lair was finally in sight of his forest stained gems when a familiar scent drifted along the breeze followed by a howl that Destan recognised immediately. Hellene had told both the youngsters that they were to attend a training session taught by Magic and so the boy allowed the ghost of a smile to grace his jaw line. He knew exactly where his mother would be. Not hesitating for a moment longer, the juvenile headed off towards the origin of the howl, latching onto his mother’s scent as if it were some form of homing beckon. Large paws scraped across the earth as once or twice he tripped and stumbled over his own body or unnoticeable obstacles that jutted out from the shadows. Granted his feet were now sore and aching, but Destan refused to stop. He had missed his darling mother so much that the thought of not reaching her now sent him flying as if he had magically grown wings that were carrying him over the earth at incredible speed. The lad didn’t even slow his sprint when he approached the clearing, and the heavy cologne of other wolves hit his nares with a force. Instead he bounded straight for the multi-hued form of his mother and found that before he knew it he had hit her shoulder and come to a stop. Lifting his head and looking up sheepishly into the eyes of his mother, Destan stood and shook off his fur. It was then that he noticed the other wolves that had already gathered and the brute backed away from them with anxiety racing through his chest. His muzzle, as he was taller now, almost reached Hellene’s ear and it was only then that he realised lyrics only for her. ”I have mis... missed you mother.” Word Count: 820 OOC: |
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