IP: 97.121.239.100
Posted on April 25, 2015 at 10:21:58 PM by Sabre
 I fight much like a freshly caught fish on a hook- hard and vigorously. But much like that fish on the line, I am tiring fast, and my blood loss cannot help but help with such a thing. I know I am fading fast, but I am stubborn, I am strong, and I am determined. They would gain more scars than they were worth before they were done with me and I was at last on my way down their pathetic mongrel gullets. If ever I have hated a type of wolf in my life time, it would be the cannibals that now seek to devour me this day. It did not matter if one were in the far tundra, or this mild green place of the south. Cannibal wolves were in every corner of the land, and regardless of their rhyme or reasoning for being the way they are- they are nothing but the same. Dastardly scum that stains the very earth they walk on, that taints the very earth they breathe. They have no place in this life, and if I had it my way I would kill them all. But fate enjoys its humor and on this day, it is they that will be killing me.
I do not manage in knocking either off of me. If anything, the first wolf manages a closer grasp upon my frame, and I know that by the way he moves he is opening me up for an attack by the other, older wolf. And though I manage to find purchase on the black one for but a moment, he is quickly moving out of my jaw. And from my jaw his own jaws go to find my flank, piercing the flesh there deep and savage before pulling and tearing flesh away from bones. I have known pain in my life, throughout my entire life, and just how wild and feral it can be. But never have I ever had flesh rendered from my bones, and the pain is so blinding that it is in fact numbing. And I am grateful for in these moments I cannot even fathom the pain that might actually be occurring. My senses are blind to the point that movements are equally sluggish, and I at least have the time to know that these are my last moments of life passing me by. I do not think back and reminisce on my life, or think about what could have or would have been. I think of the fact that I have long out lived any of my wild tundra brothers, and that unlike them I do not die in the cold and the snow. My body will not freeze and go to waste for the scavengers, the bugs, or the earth. I will feed the two wolves that now practically feast on me alive as is, for surely when it is I fall still at last they will certainly be upon me. I do not struggle any longer, but I do not accept my fate. I take it for what it is, one more night out of all the nights; even if it is one I will never open my eyes from. Mismatched eyes of bright cobalt blue and deep emerald dim as I watch them mangle, chew and swallow me whole. I do not pity for them, nor do I wish any particular thing upon them. I feel nothing for them as I feel nothing now, and at last I close my eyes to this world as I close the aged leather binding on this story. |