[ Post a Response | Wind Gale Pack ]
Posted by Chilali on June 16, 2007, 5:47 am The arctic wolf hadn't seen neither head nor tail of the wolf after he'd entered the pack wounded and almost immediately became a part of a bush. She was unsure of whether she should be concerned, relieved, or planning his funeral; but the latter thought made her very happy. It wasn't that Chilali was hateful, only that Frollo was easy to hate. But truthfully, the large white wolf wasn't one of many amnities. It was far too easy to get on her bad side, and all whom she met hopped on it like a nice fluffy pillow. A very big pillow, and both sides of which welcoming and cool. Chilali only had one side, which, coincidentally, was her bad one. The Nice Fluffy Pillow shifted her paws slowly over the long grass, her dull golden eyes only moving slightly as she traced the field for pray. With the come of spring, prey had flourished like daisies, however, the melting of the snow gave the wolf difficulties in camoflouge. Chilali's long white coat stood out upon the emerald field, and a deer was neither blind nor stupid, and a wolf was not a cat. Crouching and slinking didn't make the task any easier. She cursed to herself as a doe lifted her long, slender legs, glancing back with beady eyes and darting for safety with fellow friends. The doe and her companions were healthy and young; it would be impossible for Chilali to match their speed and the distance they had already gained. She sat to her haunches, her stomache feeling more empty than it had in the winter. The cold winter had held famine; all the prey had vanished. Even in spring, things lived, and all the hiding seemed to find the bravery to climb up from underground and spread the life that had once halted. Green returned to the grass, birds returned to the sky, song returned to the air, pollen fell like a magical golden dust, flower buds slowly began to swell.... Frollo would be having headaches, watery eyes, and sneezes. For a wolf she hated, she knew him too well. She resumed her paws, shook her scruff, and decided to find out where the doe had gone. If she could chase the breath out of the doe and companions, perhaps she could catch or corner one of them. Chilali closed her eyes for a moment, perking her ears and smiling. She had grown to know the land better than she knew her own name. The terrain got a little rocky upwind... downwind, it had a very mild slope... eastward was the foliage...westwind was the closest border. She had seen the deer go downwind, where they couldn't catch her scent as easily. Lowering herself, she slinked forward, moving in a quick and ferret-like slither, then peering at where the deer had stopped to graze again, feeling safer. For whatever reason, peering at the threesome in the lonely meadow brought some sort of sorrow to her eyes. It was almost as if they touched and memory that she had kept to herself, and the memory had suddenly unfolded and brought back the same sentiment that had existed in the past. Chilali straightened, staring down at the doe, her mind momentarily abandoning her empty stomache. Suddenly, she didn't feel hungry. Suddenly, a run seemed like a little much. Suddenly, it didn't seem worth it. She would strike after them, and they would run, and one would be struck down, and the others would be without a mother. Or one would be struck down, and the other would be without a fawn. And this was how the world worked. Her dull eyes began to shimmer, as if the pyrite had been polished thoroughly and brought to life. Was this any different than her own past? No. No, not really. It was all survival, in the end. The same had happened to her mother, but the predator had a couple less legs than she. And the others left without a mother had been the white wolf's sister and she. Her sister still lived. A second passed. The thought was over. The wolf slipped downhill, then pushed her legs into a powerful sprint before the threesome could even realize she was coming. A fawn glanced up, it's beady eyes showing fear, and all three heads rose, black eyes taking in Chilali's rushing form before they were replaced with bouncing white tails and skipping paws. Her eyes, once again as dull as usual, caculated. The fawn were holding up the mother. It was strange. Only one of them could belong to her, but suddenly she had ended up with two. If she had one, she would have lived. Chilali pushed forwad with her hindlegs and snatched at the flank of the doe. The other two fawns struggled with their long legs to escape. It was the way of a mother, to take in another in need. The odd fawn was one of her kind, and could not be left to die. So the doe had taken it in, because perhaps another had killed the odd fawn's biological mother. This doe had already given birth. Her life was fulfilled. The other two fawn were healthy and old enough to run, and would grow older, and continue the cycle of life. Chilali and the doe fell together. Chilali got up first. The doe rolled, her long legs kicking in the air before they touched the ground again in attempt to spring off. The white wolf's jaws were around the doe's throat before she was even fully on the ground again, and both struggled down a second time. Thrashing. Chilali rose, licking her muzzle. She had neatly folded up the memory and tucked it into the back of her mind. One was killed and the others were left without a mother. That was how it worked. Was it really worth it? To live another day, and to, simultaneously, look upon a reflection of the past just to do so...? She was thinking too hard. Minds weren't for thinking. They were for caculating. They were for surviving. The guilt drained away. No more mother. Tears, lonesomeness. One still had a sister.
70.161.88.108
Advent was a fancy word for Frollo.
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