IP: 120.149.119.230
Posted on March 5, 2015 at 01:57:08 PM by e d e n
how long will we blame the devils on our shoulders
I cannot say what draws me back into the crags, only that it does and as per days before, I find myself in the tangle of stone. I lay now beneath the shade of an outcrop, tucked away in the shadows above the main paths. The thunder of the water in the distance hushes the far off sounds of packs and loners, a reprieve from the world of such things for the time being. I suppose one could say that I have taken a hiatus, separating myself from the social world of our species for the time being. My muscles are still tight with agitation and tension, a reminder that I lost my position for surely no other reason than the names I did not carry. I was not born to some Taviora healer and thus, I was always a step below those that were. Since when, I had to ponder, did such a thing occur? Perhaps it might have been a baffling question had the answer not come so easily: it had always been the case.
I have company, however, in a sense at least. We may be distant, perhaps, but we share the same area as contently as possible. She, he - it, I suppose - has been there this entire time, a wretched leftover of a careless wolf. I have watched idly for some time, though, upwind as the crows hopped along its form, picking and scratching at it idly. I am almost tempted to sleep once again and yet, there is the far off sound of paws slapping against the stone. For now, I suppose I will continue to watch, peering out of the darkness as a white female enters the stage, seemingly taking to the meat too. Her actions, however, dither from the crows and rather than dive into the foul flesh, she begins to prod at it, tearing into the frail flesh. Even from here, I can smell the putrid mess as fluid spills out across the pale stone.
That alone is enough to bring me out of the suffocating darkness, the scent seeming to intensify in combination with the still water and stale air. My own form breaks into the sunlight then, some four or so feet above the plateau below. I watch down at the flurry of birds for a moment before I take my gaze back to this strange female, one who laughs at the foul innards of some lost fool. I do not recognize her but there is a distinct aura about her that pierces even the most wretched of scents. It is a danger, a feeling that prickles slowly below the skin and draws me towards her. Like liquid, I seep from the shadows and land with a thud on the earth below; the tremor and sound cause the birds to hesitate for a moment, some reaching up into the air before crying out in annoyance.
"How generous."
I make my comment offhandedly, passing my gaze between she and the birds with an amused inflection of my lip. Subtle but there all the same. In that same vein, I take several short steps forward, attempting to ignore the smell as I take a closer look at the way the birds swarm and strip away whatever good meat might remain. It is not the same smell or texture as a living wolf, the blood thick and black and the flesh taking on a dark, bruised appearance, and yet it is still so alike to the flesh of prey. It is a curious thing and yet, perhaps the most curious of it all is why she had done such a thing. Why she had laughed.