I had been following a wolf...a female of black, black like my original mother. She had a form so lithe, so lovely that it caught my golden, blue hazed gaze. She hypnotized me in a way that I cannot understand, Maybe it was this lingering loss of my mother, maybe it went deeper. Maybe I was wishing she was dead, so she would sit still, and would give me her prize. I was attracted to the fur, the pelt but I was attached to the eyes. She had eyes like a soft pink rose, something so beautiful and unique and I wanted them for myself. I wanted to rip them out of the socket, with great care of course, so I can get up close, so I can sniff them, lick them, get a good, good look at them before they start to fade, and then I will add them to my pile of rotting eyes. Why, oh why did things have to rot away? How am I supposed to keep a collection of the most beautiful of eyes when they just turn dark and into liquids, attract flies and maggots? I can only enjoy eyes for a short time, and I must find them constantly for my own satisfaction. All eyes were different, unique, but sadly I am no killer. No one has taught me how to use my jaws that effectively and I can only kill small things to cure this horrible thing called hunger. Maybe my second mother Jaidah can teach me, She killed a lot of things, and she was kind enough to give me parts that I wanted to look at. I was very lucky to have Jaidah in my life after my first mother died in the meteor crash.
Since I am not trained in the ways of death, I must wait for it. I must have patience for things still living to die, or find things already dead with my excellent nose. Today I stalk this black girl. I stalk her on my own black limbs, slender and lean, yet I am able to hold myself low to the ground, close to the rock and dirt of the crater. I am not cleanest of wolves, I get dirty and apparently smell like nothing but death itself. I like the smell of rotting flesh gracing my pelt in a vile perfume. I find if I want death to come around me, I should smell like death. My logic is sound, I think it makes sense but I am really caught up in my own mind, my own imagination and apparently my interpretation of life, the universe, and everything is on the strange side, but I do not care, I think how I think and I cannot stop it from happening.
I keep on the heels of the black girl with the pink eyes, I keep on her trail with a strange determination. I know she isn't going to die soon, but maybe, just maybe she will just...fall over and I can have her eyes all to myself. Maybe...she will go to sleep and I can pry them out without her noticing. My light grey pelt, like a soft chalk, is dull in the light of the sun, only my golden saddle shines and shimmers. The rocks don't provide much cover and I am not the best stalker. The black eventually notices me, becomes panicked and runs. My ears perk and my white face frowns, knowing I cannot catch up to her in time. I lay on my belly, blinking as a whine escapes me. Now what will I do? should I follow her trail? Should I hunt for the dead instead of wishing for death on the living? If only I knew how to take down another wolf...then I could have things my way. I sigh as I rest my pretty face on my black paws. I now must decide what plan of action to take next.
Three Years - Loved by None - Protected by None |