( Continue the Tale...) |
(…Picture it. No, Really… Concentrate and picture it in the depths of your mind…)
You’re a youth in a village. That village, that incredible sactuary… it is all you have ever known. Peaceful… serene… walking on bare hind-paws, you venture your way around the cleverly constructed homes of wood and twine. Nothing restricts your free spirit, for your people are solitary, unhindered by the ways of modern man and animal kind alike. Untamed; the adults work hard to build and grow and adore everything around them in their almost tropical jungle paradise while the many cubs run happily in only their fur, playing with sticks and causing mischief, with angry but loving stares from those teenage ones just learning the chores that come with responsibility. All and all, there is harmony. And a sudden scream rips through that joy. As violently as the murderous claws of an unstable species rips through the velvety black coated flesh of your kind... A sudden gasp came with the abrupt upright of a slender form. Wide yellow feline eyes stared into the darkness… “A dream…” Devonia murmured beneath her breath, in thick native tongue. “Another… cursed nightmare.” The panthress crawled from her high bed perch in the corner of a tall hut, landing stealthily upon thick padded hind-paws. With a stretch of her limber frame and a curl of her tongue, she brushed tousled ebon hair from her eyes and slipped into an attire that did little to hide her form, but covered the most appropriate places. With it, however, several small suitable blades were sheathed to leather straps around thighs and arms. No one went anywhere without a blade, nowadays. She pressed aside the heavy material shielding her door and stepped out into reality. The terrain was torn and brown. No longer did lush grasses and mosses decorate the clearing’s floor. No longer did canopies of exotic leaves guard against the tropical rains. Many of the trees were destroyed forcibly, branches severed and scars across trunks that bleed the life from them. What wood that could be salvaged was put into the heavy log fencing that seemed to be an attempt at protection. The leather armored archers stationed at each corner would indeed encourage that thought. Yet, she seemed to expect what she saw, though no less sorrow reflected in those brilliant eyes. Crossing the grounds, she passed several pairs and groups, sparring and working with weaponry, most her own young adult age, it seemed. “You’re to report to Lord Zahn, matters concerning Darkhold.” A stern voice interrupted her musings. The voice aptly came from a tall, stern figure, his dark face seemingly to hold a hateful expression, no matter his words. His arms folded across his chest as he glared at the smaller female with disgust. “Thank you, Xenos.” She replied swiftly, a cruel smile touching her lips. The man was childish. Xenos held loathing for Devonia for years now. It wasn’t a mystery why. Darkhold, guardian to the King, had chosen the petite, small female as his pupil when the time came, to everyone’s surprise. As the threat of losing their king’s generation bloodline was so high, it was a great honor to be taught for this position. And though her people did not hold any preposterous ‘Males stronger then Females’ belief, it was still a shock to the village of Rajin when the great Darkhold dubbed Devonia his disciple. ...For fewer cubs survived each year.... Pausing to bow her head to the large raven totem at the entryway of longhouse she knew to belong to her King, the anthropomorphic panther disappeared inside… |
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