Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Jan 3, 2009 22:03:51 GMT -5
Not again…
A distressed groan broke the night, an elderly male staggering to a halt, muzzle lowered to hide between his forelegs. His eyelids fused, wincing as he drew back his black lips. His bloodied fangs were sodden with foul fluid. And after a minute of fighting the urge, the brute wrenched, his throat muscles visibly convulsing with the effort. Bloodied vomit spilled from his jaws, a shiver of pain shooting through his body. Soiled saliva dangled from his chin as he took a single, shaky step back.
…how pitiful. It seems as if I am allowed to survive all battles I participate in… but I am supposed to die of a sickness. I need to rest a bit… I’ll call Lucifer or Fate to do me off. I rather die by their fangs…
Silent paws led him toward a silhouette of rocks; it appeared as an appealing resting spot. He was panting heavily at this point, licking his lips and forcing his slowly scattering brain to keep focus on the task of reaching the stones.
Funny… this scent is familiar. I must’ve crossed onto pack territories… I wonder which one this is…. Wait. Mephisto stiffened a couple yards from the stone shapes, blinking in recognition. This is the same pack where I met that black wolf… the one that scarred my eye… damn, if he’s still alive, I’ll have to send someone to finish him off for me…
Just as he had hoped, Mephisto discovered an opening among the rocks, one that faintly reeked of bear; one that, even with his aged senses, he could decipher as stale. Mephisto slipped into the empty bear den before collapsing on the floor, coughing in a fit of erratic breathing. A sting of protest echoed in his muscles, too, when he realized that he had fallen onto his sore shoulder; the shoulder with a frighteningly deep scar sliced down most of his foreleg. But instead of moaning or falling victim to the pain, Mephisto simply swallowed his discomfort and stared at the rock face that stood inches from his nose.
Ehh… what the hell, I’ll let the black wolf be… if he’s even alive. I’m getting to old for this… getting far too weak…
Shifting his hind leg, his eyes drifted shut, his breathing loud and painful in his ears as the bear’s den echoed his discomforted sounds. But he remained awake, the disease that was draining him of his energy rendering him unable to dream, and unable to stop thinking.
A distressed groan broke the night, an elderly male staggering to a halt, muzzle lowered to hide between his forelegs. His eyelids fused, wincing as he drew back his black lips. His bloodied fangs were sodden with foul fluid. And after a minute of fighting the urge, the brute wrenched, his throat muscles visibly convulsing with the effort. Bloodied vomit spilled from his jaws, a shiver of pain shooting through his body. Soiled saliva dangled from his chin as he took a single, shaky step back.
…how pitiful. It seems as if I am allowed to survive all battles I participate in… but I am supposed to die of a sickness. I need to rest a bit… I’ll call Lucifer or Fate to do me off. I rather die by their fangs…
Silent paws led him toward a silhouette of rocks; it appeared as an appealing resting spot. He was panting heavily at this point, licking his lips and forcing his slowly scattering brain to keep focus on the task of reaching the stones.
Funny… this scent is familiar. I must’ve crossed onto pack territories… I wonder which one this is…. Wait. Mephisto stiffened a couple yards from the stone shapes, blinking in recognition. This is the same pack where I met that black wolf… the one that scarred my eye… damn, if he’s still alive, I’ll have to send someone to finish him off for me…
Just as he had hoped, Mephisto discovered an opening among the rocks, one that faintly reeked of bear; one that, even with his aged senses, he could decipher as stale. Mephisto slipped into the empty bear den before collapsing on the floor, coughing in a fit of erratic breathing. A sting of protest echoed in his muscles, too, when he realized that he had fallen onto his sore shoulder; the shoulder with a frighteningly deep scar sliced down most of his foreleg. But instead of moaning or falling victim to the pain, Mephisto simply swallowed his discomfort and stared at the rock face that stood inches from his nose.
Ehh… what the hell, I’ll let the black wolf be… if he’s even alive. I’m getting to old for this… getting far too weak…
Shifting his hind leg, his eyes drifted shut, his breathing loud and painful in his ears as the bear’s den echoed his discomforted sounds. But he remained awake, the disease that was draining him of his energy rendering him unable to dream, and unable to stop thinking.