01-09-2017, 10:23 AM
Cold. He felt it ebb and flow through his body, seeping into his weary bones and sunken ribs. His spindly legs fought through the drifts that had piled up through the maze of trees. Where he thought he would find respite from the wind and battering snow, he had only found demise. The snow whipped through the tall woods and wound about in patterns, creating drifts taller than the lone wolf could handle. He fumbled through him, eyes slitted tight and ears pulled back against the storm. This storm, in the heart of winter, could be his last.
Kilter had not lived much life. Most of it had been in the rumbling woods of the Valley, chasing the wolves and crying to the night sky as if he was one of them. His home. Where was it now? Beqanna had ruptured and split into a land unknown, and the young boy had been thrown through the world and lost to the clutches of winter. His mother had disappeared, the siblings he had shared a womb with were gone, his father had never been around to begin with. And his wolves? The magic creatures that he had once called brother and sister - had morphed into a pack as wild as any, the Valley magic stripping them of their humanity. Even Ruan, the silent stallion who had watched him from the trees, the closest thing that Kilter had thought of a friend, a guardian, had vanished. Kilter was utterly alone.
He stumbled, his footing lost in the quarries of frost - meeting snow up to his chest. He closed his eyes, hearing the howl of wolves echo throughout the forest. Perhaps this was not the worst way to die, a tomb of ice and grit, the beckoning sounds of his once kin swirling throughout the trees. There could be worse ways to go, Kilter thought. And perhaps this one was fitting for him best.
Kilter had not lived much life. Most of it had been in the rumbling woods of the Valley, chasing the wolves and crying to the night sky as if he was one of them. His home. Where was it now? Beqanna had ruptured and split into a land unknown, and the young boy had been thrown through the world and lost to the clutches of winter. His mother had disappeared, the siblings he had shared a womb with were gone, his father had never been around to begin with. And his wolves? The magic creatures that he had once called brother and sister - had morphed into a pack as wild as any, the Valley magic stripping them of their humanity. Even Ruan, the silent stallion who had watched him from the trees, the closest thing that Kilter had thought of a friend, a guardian, had vanished. Kilter was utterly alone.
He stumbled, his footing lost in the quarries of frost - meeting snow up to his chest. He closed his eyes, hearing the howl of wolves echo throughout the forest. Perhaps this was not the worst way to die, a tomb of ice and grit, the beckoning sounds of his once kin swirling throughout the trees. There could be worse ways to go, Kilter thought. And perhaps this one was fitting for him best.