(no subject)
The world was snow, fire, dirt, trees, blood and smoke. It was Smell. And pain.
The men had him. They had fire. Fire that burned.
He ran, slower now, panting. The snow got deeper as the forest grew darker, and he felt the saliva freezing as it hung from his jaw. The hair was white now, or grey, or black. Colours mattered little.
He went over a hill when the pain grabbed his belly and he fell, stumbled and rolled down a slope he knew all too well. Paws to the icy glazed surface he panicked for some kind of grip, but found nothing. The claws dug deep and cut nothing. There was blood in his wake as he looked up the slope.
His blood.
He had to find her. Make sure she was safe. That the little ones were safe.
The birds fluttered, waking, speaking of dawn. He felt cold and stiff. He could hear the men far behind him, cursing and growling like beasts.
And then something else touched his mind, his ears filled with joy and love and hope of shelter. He heard her voice.
A golden hymn called him home as the dawn rose. One last run for the one without a name.
He got up on all fours, panting, blood dripping from his jaws, mixing with snow and saliva. Then he rose his head to the sky, called for his love, and ran.
How he ran.
The men had him. They had fire. Fire that burned.
He ran, slower now, panting. The snow got deeper as the forest grew darker, and he felt the saliva freezing as it hung from his jaw. The hair was white now, or grey, or black. Colours mattered little.
He went over a hill when the pain grabbed his belly and he fell, stumbled and rolled down a slope he knew all too well. Paws to the icy glazed surface he panicked for some kind of grip, but found nothing. The claws dug deep and cut nothing. There was blood in his wake as he looked up the slope.
His blood.
He had to find her. Make sure she was safe. That the little ones were safe.
The birds fluttered, waking, speaking of dawn. He felt cold and stiff. He could hear the men far behind him, cursing and growling like beasts.
And then something else touched his mind, his ears filled with joy and love and hope of shelter. He heard her voice.
A golden hymn called him home as the dawn rose. One last run for the one without a name.
He got up on all fours, panting, blood dripping from his jaws, mixing with snow and saliva. Then he rose his head to the sky, called for his love, and ran.
How he ran.