Post by Crona on Oct 25, 2010 13:06:15 GMT
Crona walked along the banks of Swiftwater, his head lowered with his ears flat against the back of his head. He stalked quietly, looking around for any sign of life, his long legs carrying him across the slippery landscape. The wolf had been a loner all his life, abandoned by his mother, left to fend for himself when he could barely walk and bark. He wanted a family, something to protect, even if he was scared of everything. He wanted someone to love him, and someone he could love in return. He wanted a home, friends, family, and in other words... a pack. The young wolf had never before been to a Pack, and knew nothing of their laws or customs, but it seemed to be the ideal life for any wolf of the loner-life, forced to fend for themselves in sickness or in health with no one to help them get by. Occasionally, another loner would assist them in hunting if they were sick, but this was a rare thing to Crona, and something he was never fortunate enough to experience.
The pink and black wolf continued his walk. It was the middle of winter, food was scarce, and his thin pelt wasn't much help against the snow when he couldn't find a den. I will surely starve to death before Spring comes, he kept thinking, predicting how his death would be, I can't keep carrying on like this... I can't take the hunger or cold any longer...
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as his paw slipped out from under him and he fell, head-first, into the rushing waters of Swiftwater. His whole body was submerged into the icy-coldness of the blueish water, sending shivers down his spine, and his heart raced as he kicked and squirmed, struggling to reach the surface where he could breath fresh, sweet air. Never before had the wolf treasured air so much... The kicking never ceased, and just in time his head reached the surface.
"Help me, somebo-" he yelled, gasping loudly, before the rushing waters threw him back into the murky depths. He kicked, this time his front-left leg hitting a rock, which left a gash down it. Dark red, almost-black blood oozed out of the wound, floating in the water and creating a line to where the water was taking him. Again, he tried to push himself to the surface.
"Help!" he cried out, fear obvious in his shaky voice.
The pink and black wolf continued his walk. It was the middle of winter, food was scarce, and his thin pelt wasn't much help against the snow when he couldn't find a den. I will surely starve to death before Spring comes, he kept thinking, predicting how his death would be, I can't keep carrying on like this... I can't take the hunger or cold any longer...
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as his paw slipped out from under him and he fell, head-first, into the rushing waters of Swiftwater. His whole body was submerged into the icy-coldness of the blueish water, sending shivers down his spine, and his heart raced as he kicked and squirmed, struggling to reach the surface where he could breath fresh, sweet air. Never before had the wolf treasured air so much... The kicking never ceased, and just in time his head reached the surface.
"Help me, somebo-" he yelled, gasping loudly, before the rushing waters threw him back into the murky depths. He kicked, this time his front-left leg hitting a rock, which left a gash down it. Dark red, almost-black blood oozed out of the wound, floating in the water and creating a line to where the water was taking him. Again, he tried to push himself to the surface.
"Help!" he cried out, fear obvious in his shaky voice.
