04-02-2016, 03:49 PM
BROTHER, LET ME BE YOUR FORTRESS, WHEN THE NIGHT WINDS ARE DRIVING ON.
I CAN BE THE ONE TO LIGHT YOUR WAY; I WILL BRING YOU HOME.
He cannot explain the warmth that surrounds his heart when he sees such a youthful display of innocence - it brings the promise of new memories and the return of old, fond ones, which usually lie dormant so deeply within the recesses of his mind. He allows himself to surrender to these emotions in her presence, as she is a child and stoicism is not necessary. She always looks to him with such unadulterated eagerness that he cannot deny her even the faintest of smiles or the softest touch to her hip.
She is so in awe of the world around her and so purely curious that it reminds him of the littlest things in life that he has since allowed to move around him without a second glance. The soft crackle and pop of a broken twig beneath the frosty layer of ice on the flatland floor, or the whistling of the wind as she bounds and sprints against it.
He observes her from the shadows of the mid-afternoon light, as the sun begins to sink down below the horizon, painting the snow-trodden land in an eye catching array of colors. She seems to be mimicking it, becoming a brilliant shade of violet, and then the purest shade of white - brilliant and gleaming in the dying light. She emits a sound that evokes a deep, guttural laughter from the depths of his throat, and he pulls himself from the shadows, pressing his long, thick legs forward as he closes the gap between them.
He has been gone far too long, but he has left her to the care of others who he knew would watch after her for him in his absence. She is his, though, wholly, and a regretful pang aches in his chest.
He had been amiss too long. He would not spend so much time away, he promised himself, as he stepped beside her and leaned down to affectionately nudge and nip at her tangled mane, tugging a few wayward twigs and leaves from it. "That was quite a roar, Maribel," He muses with another low chuckle, nudging her cheek now. "I heard you clear across the valley. I am impressed."
She is so in awe of the world around her and so purely curious that it reminds him of the littlest things in life that he has since allowed to move around him without a second glance. The soft crackle and pop of a broken twig beneath the frosty layer of ice on the flatland floor, or the whistling of the wind as she bounds and sprints against it.
He observes her from the shadows of the mid-afternoon light, as the sun begins to sink down below the horizon, painting the snow-trodden land in an eye catching array of colors. She seems to be mimicking it, becoming a brilliant shade of violet, and then the purest shade of white - brilliant and gleaming in the dying light. She emits a sound that evokes a deep, guttural laughter from the depths of his throat, and he pulls himself from the shadows, pressing his long, thick legs forward as he closes the gap between them.
He has been gone far too long, but he has left her to the care of others who he knew would watch after her for him in his absence. She is his, though, wholly, and a regretful pang aches in his chest.
He had been amiss too long. He would not spend so much time away, he promised himself, as he stepped beside her and leaned down to affectionately nudge and nip at her tangled mane, tugging a few wayward twigs and leaves from it. "That was quite a roar, Maribel," He muses with another low chuckle, nudging her cheek now. "I heard you clear across the valley. I am impressed."
OFFSPRING
the ice king of the tundra