i'll make a beast out of myself - gale

[munroe]

Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay
No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me

Everything felt wrong.

It was too dark and he was all alone and even his skin felt wrong. Was he always this white? He doesn’t remember attributing gold to himself either but to someone else whose face he couldn’t seem to remember. He felt frustrated in the fact that he couldn’t seem to remember anything or how he came to be here. Only brief flashes of memory taunted him at random times and he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of them.

Even though winter has fallen and spring has risen in its place, there were no wildflowers sprouting along the well-worn pathways nor were the grasses turning a lush green. The temperature of the strange night remained chilly with no sun to consistently warm the earthen floor beneath it and everything seemed dull and stagnant. 

All he knew was it was all wrong and he didn’t know how to fix it.

The yearling had felt inexplicably drawn to the towering trees of the forest. His hazel eyes looked longingly up their trunks, an urge to scamper up them to hide within their boughs burgeoned within his chest. But he knew it to be an impossible feat and so he shook his head in confusion before continuing deeper into the forest.

He didn’t have a destination in mind. The wild child was looking for a place to hide him away from prying eyes so he could process his anxiety. He was lost and alone – and well aware of how vulnerable that made him. Since he would not be able to climb the tall trees that surrounded him, he settled upon a thicket of shrubs butted up against a large redwood that he had spotted from the deer run he was currently using to reliably navigate through the darkness.

He stumbled over a couple of gnarled branches that littered the forest floor, wincing each time he made loud crunching noises, but he kept his balance and made it to his chosen hiding spot unscathed. He cautiously stuck his nose through the wilting leaves but he did not smell any other creature making the bushes their home. The wild child eagerly stepped forward and curled up upon the ground, shivering as the coldness of the earth tried to leech whatever warmth his skin once held.

Munroe had just settled his head upon his forelegs with the intent of trying to catch what sleep he could for the poor boy was exhausted in his search for sanctuary but a piercing howl echoed through the forest and his drowsiness quickly made way for fear. His head snapped upwards, his ears flickered madly, and his eyes were wide and futilely trying to search the darkness for any sign of a threat.

Loud howls pierced the cold winter night from a distance. But he could not take his eyes away from the carcass of what had once been his protector. Blind eyes had been made lifeless and blood was strewn all around her. He was alone. Again. A sharp bark came from behind him and he turned--

A loud snarl ripped out from deep within his chest, startling the wild child from his memories (were they his memories?) and his confusion swiftly came back in full. He’s never made that noise before and he didn’t know who the mare in memory had been. Munroe could only hope that he had hidden himself well enough to prevent whatever creature had howled from finding him. He didn’t have the energy to defend himself and he wanted to forget the gruesome sight that kept repeating itself across his mind.

MUNROE

the lost wild child of nowhere

@[Gale]

@[The Monsters] TEGteg [-LEOPARD SHIFTING-][WINGS][healing][immune to magic], mess with his wings?

[Random Event]

@[munroe] your wings have failed to mutate... for now (nothing happens).

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Gale has lost track of where he is, knowing only that he was flying. He’d fly till his heartbeat returned to normal, he tells himself. When it does, he decides he’ll fly until his wings hurt, and then will fly until his shifted-to-an-osprey wings hurt. The pain keeps his attention, and Gale is grateful. Better than focusing on other things, like what he has just left behind in Hyaline. A shriek splits the ever-dark air, and Gale’s flight falters. Below something shifts in the darkness, reaching up and toward him. The brindle osprey shrieks, a sharp cry before Gale reverts to his equine shape and begins to trade blows with the Monster below. This encounter goes even worse than the first, and Gale is exhausted enough that he was bleeding from at least a half a dozen wounds before he remembers to share an unaltered image of the sun with what passes for the monster’s eyes. The thing vanishes, and the headache crawls from behind his left ears to pound directly behind both eyes. Gale remains quite still, and the bloody wounds from the monster’s knife-like claws knit back together at a magically aided pace. They do not heal entirely, and instead look many weeks old, and still feel quite tender as Gale slowly rolls his neck and stretches. He did not want to spend time in the Forest, but it seems now he has no choice. Best to find a bit of brush to rest within, and he’s just found a suitable looking stand of low growth when the unmistakable sensation of being watched settles along his spine. Gale says nothing, instead casting about until he finds the watcher. Seeing what the boy sees, Gale turns his head directly toward where the colt (though he’s no idea the identity of the stranger, only that they are equine) hides in the brush. He says nothing, only watches. @[munroe]