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 Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 9:07 am
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My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Marrok
Soq Temper: Zealous
Wolf's Name: Faelan
Story:
I am the wolf who stalks their prey at night. I am the hunter who hides in the darkness. My name is Marrok.
I was not always evil, nor was I always the wolf. She made me into this.
It had been a glorious day, I had been out exploring the woods, when I stumbled on a cabin, hidden within the trees.
"Come in little foal," a voice had called to me, and I, being the naive foal I was then, had gone in. I was greeted by an old woman, and she held out an apple for me. "You must be hungry little one," she crooned. "Playing in the forest." I didn't understand what she was saying, but I took the apple, eating it quickly.
The next thing I knew, I was locked in a cage, next to a second cage, this one containing a wolf pup. "Are you awake now, little one?" the old woman cackled."You're the perfect thing for my current experiment. I'm going to make you into a beast, give you the mind of a skinwalker, without that pesky shape changing." She moved closer to me, "And then this little one will be your pack mate."
I nipped at her, but she moved away from the cage before my teeth could catch her skin, reaching for a syringe filled with a odd colored liquid. The little wolf whined, pressing as far back in his cage as he could get. "This won't hurt much."
She had to unlock the cage to get to me, and I rushed out the moment it opened, hoping to get away. I was unsuccessful, and she jabbed the needle into me, injecting the liquid into my bloodstream.
Everything went fuzzy, and then all I knew was an excruciating pain.
When I came to, She was gone, and I was different. My senses had sharpened, and though I didn't know it at the time, my body had also changed.
The wolf whimpered again, drawing my attention. "Don't worry, little brother," I reassured him, as I opened the cage to release him. "You're safe now."
"We will hunt?" he asked, sniffing the ground.
I nodded in agreement. She could not be left to live, and who better for the job than the two of us.
Thus, my pack brother and I declared war on all two-leggers, but especially on Her and Her kin, so that all soquili would be safe.
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 9:12 am
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And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Angelique
Soq Temper: Diseased
Rat's Name: Thanatos
Story: No one really knew why Prince Prospero threw the peasant into the pit of disease ravaged despair. Nor did they quite seem to phantom why they should. All they knew was that the stallion had made an offense toward his majesty in some way shape or form. The people of the city merely thought of the ordeal as a flight of fancy of the prince and so did not mention it again. After all, the man had no known kin or companions within the city so what did it really matter anyway? Little did they know it but Provi, the male they had so thoughtlessly let be sent to death, would come back to haunt their very existence.
Provi had been the average stallion, upon a time, blessed with health of body and strength of character. While the chieftain of the village slovenly ate what he pleased and took from the villagers whatever he desired Provi was there to lead the small village in secret. But it wasn’t Provi’s undermining the authority Prospero had set in place that brought Provi to the crooked prince’s attention. It was Provi’s lovely mate Angelique, the most beautiful mare in not only Italy, but the whole of Europe.
Every day, Angelique would go around the village and usher the village foals to the ‘schoolhouse’ meadow Provi had cleared for his adored life mate. She was educated and loved to tend to the foals and fillies for she was unable to bare any for her husband and desperately longed to hold a baby in her hooves. As Angelique made her rounds one day, gathering the laughing children into her care, the visiting prince saw her gracious form, beautiful white coat and loving nature and was filled with a lust so strong that it all but took over his very life. Prospero had to have her, no matter the cost or the way his people reacted.
The prince began to plot and scheme, dreaming up ways to gather the fair maiden into his grasp. He’d make her his mistress and wouldn’t take even the most beautiful of pleas as a no. It was deep in the darkest hour of the night that Prospero had his solution. He’d take her mate into custody and throw him into the reeking pit of death while he was still very much living. With Provi all but dead, he could claim the lovely Angelique as his own mate and mistress and force her to bear not only his body but also his presence.
The day Prospero threw Provi into the pit Angelique had been attending the children as was her custom. The day was unreasonably dark and there was a threat of thunder on the way that had the youngest neighing in discontent. When the first bolt reached down and touched earth the police force was there to take her into custody. The older foals tried to fight them off, earning a violent kick to the head. The fillies were scared for their teacher but had no way to defend their beloved mentor.
Angelique was taken to Prospero’s sleeping tipi that was decorated in various shades of red. From the crimson of the curtain that covered the door to the palest of mauves that provided bedding for his majesty she was surrounded by the color of anger. And indeed she was, angry beyond the very sense of the word. She’d heard word of her chestnut colored mate being thrown into the dank pit of death alive and she was livid. When the prince came into the tipi, she fought him with every fiber of her being but the prince wouldn’t take no for an answer.
After he’d done his business and she was alone once again in the tipi, the lovely cream mare plotted her own escape. Beginning with sneaking to the pit to find Provi, Angelique planned every detail down to the minute with which each action was to take place.
When Angelique stumbled to the entrance of the dank and eerie place in the depths of darkness, Provi was still hanging on to the shreds of life. Gasping and wheezing Provi lifted his heavy head and said, “Darling, what are you doing here? This is no place for the likes of you.”
“That could have been said of me but a day before, but now I’m a different mare than the one you nuzzled this morning. I’ve changed Provi and I intend to take my revenge against that evil stallion that they deem prince.” Angelique promised, nostrils flaring and head tossing with the outrage of it all. “But first we must get you out of here and away! We haven’t much time, as he’ll be looking for me soon. . .”
Angelique began her journey to the center of the room, attempting not to step on the decomposing corpses that strewed the ground. But the ground was not even and she stumbled on a hidden rock and fell forward into the pile of dead horses. When she lifted her head up, it was to see a small rat with beady black eyes looking straight into her crystal blue ones.
“Your mate is dead.” He sneered, pointing to Provi’s lifeless form but a few feet away. “But I can help you exact your vengeance on the lowly prince Prospero, all you need do is give your life over to me.”
Angelique started to shake with despair. She’d lost the only male she’d ever loved and all to the hooves to a madman filled with lust for the body she’d never cared much for. She quivered with regret and knew she had to do whatever it took to accomplish her vendetta. With tears trailing down her nose, she nodded her head in the affirmative. Whatever it took, she’d have her revenge. Even if it meant taking the disease that would destroy the country forever into her body, she'd do it. All for the love of a stallion. |
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 9:23 am
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 10:32 am
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My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Talen
Soq Temper: Heartsick
Wolf's Name: Fang
Story: (946)
She bled from multiple wounds. Her wings were, tattered, torn… never again would they carry her through the skies. Never again would they carry her to him. She was drowning in a pool of her own blood.
He watched the light leave her eyes
Her eyes sparkled. “Hi! I’m Sonya! What’s your name?” Her tail swished playfully as she peered up at him in complete admiration.
He gave her a severe frown, peering down at her with sheer disdain. “Talen.”
“Pleased to meet you, Talen!” She giggled. “You look funny… Wanna play a game?” She dodged out at him, touched her nose to his chest, and ran off.
”TAG! You’re it!” peals of laughter followed her escape.
They had been young, foolish. He had not yet made his first kill; she hardly even knew what the word meant.
His father towered over him, his eyes flashing with malice. “Leave her! She is not for you. We are not of a kind! She is Angeni, you are Wolf! You will not sully our bloodline!” He stepped forward, menacing, determined to throttle his firstborn if it meant keeping his descendents free of tainted blood.
His mother sneered. “Do you love her?” her voice was mocking, taunting him, goading him to react. “”Do you think you are worthy of love! Vile! Lies! Folly! Hunt, kill! This is what you were made for! This is your destiny! Do not tempt fate, foolish child!”
“Leave him!” Her father towered over her, pleading with his only daughter to see reason. “He is a wolf, dearest! He will only bring harm to our family.”
“I love him, father!” Her eyes shown with tears.
“You do not know the meaning of love.” He averted his eyes, disgusted at the decision the Herd had come to.
It was the only way.
It was the only thing their parents could agree on: One of them must die.
“I…” she dissolved into spasms, her frail form racked incessantly with a wheezing cough. “… l-love…”
“I know. Me, too.”
Her thankful smile brought tears to his eyes.
“T-t-hey… f-f-for…” she drew a shaky breath “… m-m-m-y…. sins.”
A fierce, protective pride shone in his golden eyes. “You are a Saint. It is they who have sinned.” He nuzzled her affectionately, trying not to let her see the pain that threatened to bring him to his knees.
“Run away with me!” He implored her, his eyes darting back and forth as though seeking the truth in her eyes. “We can be free of their prejudice! We will be together, forever! Nothing will stand in our way.”
She sighed, her lavender eyes filled with sorrow. How could she leave her family? How could… She stared into the desperate golden eyes of the one she loved above all others. “All right, my heart. We will go.”
They could not run far enough.
“Don’t worry, my heart. They will join you soon enough…. Rest, my love. Be at peace. Soon, we will be together in a land where we can feel no pain. There will only be our love.” It was his fault. It was all his fault.
Her sallow, sunked skin was stretched across a quivering frame. Her head lay upon the ground, exhausted. Her breathing was shallow, labored. She could no longer focus on this fading world, the world of pain and betrayal.
He could not bear her suffering.
“I…” he swallowed, seeking the strength to continue. “I can end it… Sonya, my heart, my dearest, my love… I can end your suffering.” It destroyed him to make this macabre offer… but her knew that the only alternative was a slow death. A painful death.
He couldn’t watch.
She smiled up at him, the trust in her eyes tearing his heart in two. She barely managed a nod, a content sigh leaving her cracked lips.
He steadied himself, gathered all his resolve, and gentle placed his maw around her neck. With a quick jerk of his powerful jaws, it was over.
She was gone.
His entire world was shattered and rebuilt in an instant.
He did not know how long he knelt by her broken form. He did not know how long he drifted, lost; time had no meaning for him. No amount of tears shed could alleviate his pain.
The pain of a broken heart.
He ran.
His powerful muscles surged onwards, propelling him to his fulfill grim role. He was their Reaper.
He ripped their feathers from their pinions, mutilated their bodies until it was barely recognizable. Every wound was a mirror of the ones that had eradicated darling Sonya.
Some drowned in their own blood.
Some begged, pleaded for mercy.
Others simply stared off into the distance, accepting this as their fate.
He watched it all.
And when he had his revenge, when all those responsible for his suffering were gone, faded, their lives extinguished by his cruel deeds… He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.
For Fang whispered to him, goaded him on, twisted his heart until not even a trace of his former self remained. And he surrendered to the spur.
What did it matter, if he became the monster her kin had so feared?
His heart was shattered into a million pieces, scattered throughout the wind.
“Aww, come, on. Why won’t you play with me?” She pouted, her lower lip protruding imploringly. “Please?”
He gave in, rolling his eyes to make sure she knew he was only doing this unwillingly. “Fine, fine.”
Their innocent laughter blended together in perfect harmony. It rose to the heavens, and became the very light he lived for. One perfect moment, frozen in time.
Even the angels wept, to see a love so pure stained by the hatred of others.
“Tag! You’re it!”
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 10:44 am
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My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Batard
Soq Temper: Unbridled
Wolf's Name: Diable
Story: Batard began life in the most conventional of ways. He had a mother who loved him unconditionally, a happy and pleasant (albeit a little solitary) childhood, and a body blessed with a strength that surpassed most common soquili. Despite his devilish apperance Batard was a creature of compassion and love, gentle as the most placid of the unicorns. When the day came that he was old enough to leave his home and embark into the world as a man his mother wondered if by sheltering him from the world she’d done him wrong, but alas, hopefully all those years of love would be able to overcome the cruelty of the world outside.
It did not take long for Batard to realize how . . . uncomfortable . . other soquili often felt upon his apperance. He saw the fear in their eyes, listened to clippings of their unwarranted justifications, but did nothing in return. He came to realize that most other soquili, atleast none of the ‘righteous’ and ‘good’ ate meat like he did, nor did their teeth or tails appear like his. He understood finally why he and his mother had lived so long in that lonely valley, but again he did not begrudge. His heart glowed with the warm kindness and understanding that his mother had bestowed upon him, and even these unfair slights did not sway him otherwise. It was just the way others were, and he continued his mostly solitary life making friends finally with a young wolf cub and watching those around him with innocent curiousity.
It’d been a full year that Batard had been on his own when he first met Nila, a beautiful and gracious specimen, the first soquili other then his mother to show him kindness. He’d met her as she grazed the valley near a fairly large Indian encampment, and instead of the usual widening eyes and settling ears, Nila had greeted him with a soft smile. The two became great friends, Batard reducing his roaming lifestyle to just the nearby forests, returning nearly everyday to the valley. She didn’t mind his strange taste in food, or his apperance, she instead saw the gentle spirit that resided inside him, and so she defended him mildly from the other village soquili who insisted that she stay away from him.
Life was peaceful and blissful for weeks, months even. Batard was thrilled to have another equine companion, and he grew to love her as fully and wholeheartedly as he had his own mother. And when spring came, he attempted to repay her for her kindness, insisting she follow him to a place he’d found in the nearby woods. A perfect and pristine meadow, it’s beauty only paralleled by Nila’s, and he wanted to claim it and give it just to her. The flowers, the animals, the fresh green grass that she enjoyed so much, all for her, his very best friend. Batard’s chest swelled with pride at the idea, however it was not long lived.
“Oh, I can’t leave this valley” Nila had insisted, smiling her ever sweet smile. Her master wouldn’t let her. He’d be so worried for her if she left. Batard couldn’t understand. It’d only be for a few hours. The two-legger would never know. Surely he could protect her from any danger! Didn’t she want to see this beautiful place? This gift for her? No. For days he echo’d his request, but she was unmoved. Batard’s heart ached in a way he could not explain, but nonetheless, he finally quit asking, resigning himself to simply enjoying the valley.
One rainy day, as the spring grew warmer and thicker with the sweet scent of flowers Batard came looking again for his friend. The day passed, a week, and Nila was nowhere to be found. One night, when he’d drawn up enough courage, Batard crept towards the encampment. The sounds, the smells, they terrified him and caused his heart to patter rapidly, but carefully he crept, until a familiar scent touched him. Nila stirred from her sleep easily, yawning as she greeted him quietly. Where had she been? Off being bred. What was that? Put together with a stallion, in order to have baskets.. little baby foals of her own. It’d been a little scary, and she did not know the male who had so abruptly done his task, but it had been her master’s wish, and she was happy to oblidge. Even more happy to think of the babies growing within her.
Spring became summer and Nila and Batard spent the days in the valley, watching with soft excitement as her stomach grew. He listened happily as she pondered over names, guessing at what the young ones might look like, at how many there might be. Her joy was echo’d in Batard and he counted the days to which he’d see the foals of his best friend.
When she appeared that sunny day, stomach taunt and expression lacking it’s usual glow, he was obviously confused, his heart filling with that dread before the new even touched the air. Where were the babies? Back at the village because they were too small? No… nothing like that. The master had taken them away, given them to friends and family in other villages. She’d seen them only a few moments, and away they’d went, to keep company to other two leggers. Nila tried to smile, tried to justify to herself and Batard what had happened, but he could see the tears that she managed to keep trapped in her eyes, and he wept them himself.
The weeks afterwards were dark, the days seeming dreary despite the warm summer sun. And softly Batard tried to cheer her up. Again he tried to convince her to see his meadow. But still she refused. She belonged to someone, and she loved her master. Her master would be heartbroken if she left, for he loved her very much too.
By fall the heartache had weakened, the days returned to their peaceful beauty, and the two lived rather blissfully until the day Nila again went missing. He met her in the village again, listened in disbelief as she tried to explain to him that again she was to be sent for breeding. That things would be okay, and that it was what her master wanted. A growl sounded and his voice snapped with a rage he wished she would show. How could she let him do these things to her!? The monsterous creature that she called her master. All he did was hurt her, keep her locked away. That wasn’t love! Didn’t she want freedom!? Didn’t she want foals that she could keep as her own?
Fear touched Nila’s face for the first time, and again she tried to defend her master.
The noise had roused her master, and out came the brave, staring wide eyes at the demonic looking wolf beast that stood near his mare. He shouted, waving his stick menacingly, stopping abruptly as Batard’s golden eyes turned to him with hatred. The stallion lunged in a fury, needing nothing more then a vicious clash of teeth and a few stomps to rid the world of his best friend’s captor.
Features softening, he turned back to Nila, soft words touching the air. “You’re free now” Only to have them met with a howl of terror. “Leave me alone!” She cried, turning from him, running just as quickly as he tried to run after her. He was sorry! He cried it over and over. But it was far too late. She would never forgive him. He couldn’t understand why, but it broke his heart, and finally as dawn appeared he slunk off to the woods.
She’d been brainwashed, Diable assured him, as Batard tore through the woods distraught. It was what men did. Domineer, murder, keep captive. Men carried about nothing but themselves.. and soquili that lived near them long enough often became blind to it. Brainwashed to love their monsters.
Batard’s heart ached for his friend. For his mother. His loneliness seemed stronger then it had ever felt before. He wanted to help Nila so much… but he knew it was too late. Knew it the second her scream had ripped through his heart. Maybe… maybe he could help someone else though? Someone who hadn’t been with their master quite so long? Even if he was the only one that would stand up to the twoleggers and protect his brethren. One by one he would free all those captive soquili. Because freedom… freedom and choice, those were things all soquili should have. |
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 10:47 am
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 10:51 am
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My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Conchan
Soq Temper: Bitter
Wolf's Name: Ran
Story: I'm sure, my children, that you have all heard the story of the Big Bad Wolf. But have you ever thought.... that there might be more to his tale? That there might be reason for him to act the way that he does? A reason for him to hate humans so much that he would try to lead one to her death, and eat another one?
No?
Well... gather round, and let me tell you, how it all began.
Long ago (not once upon a time, because this isn't a happy tale), there lived a mother wolf and a father wolf. One summer, they had cubs, and the whole family was happy. They lived in a place where there was plenty to hunt and even more things for the little ones to play with and tumble over.
Until the humans came. These strange beings that walked upon two legs were at first paid little attention to. But then... one of the young wolf cubs got too curious one day, and discovered that chickens tasted very good, and were easy to catch! He quickly ran home and told his whole family, and he was praised for this. Now they could catch food even more easily! How wonderful!
You can see how this isn't wonderful, can't you?
Yes, I think you can.
The wolves did not understand humans, and the humans did not understand the wolves. The humans were angry that their chickens were being stolen, and the wolves did not know they had done anything wrong.
Soon, the humans began to hunt the wolves down. One by one... every single one of the happy wolf family was trapped and killed by the humans. Except one. The cub that had first found those chickens. That one... became the big bad wolf. And more than anything, he hated humans, from then on. He also hated himself, because it was his fault... that the rest of his family had been killed. Even though... it really wasn't.
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 10:56 am
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My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Kettil
Soq Temper: Empty
Wolf's Name: Iris
Story:
He wasn’t always…
Blood hadn’t always stained his hooves, his teeth, like it did now. His hair hadn’t always been matted in it.
Why was that so hard to believe?
The days had passed like an eternal summer, long yet without time to do everything a foal wanted to. He remembered the gentle voice of his mother, misunderstood, like him. Like the rest of their family. And his father, tall, proud. And his sister.
Iris.
She had been frail compared to Kettil; smaller, and much more naïve to the ways of the world. Every-trusting of her big brother, she would follow him around with doting eyes, hanging to his every word. He adored her. They had been inseparable for Iris’s entire life, most of Kettil’s, and he’d be damned if he forgot her voice, even for a minute.
They were always different.
Winter had been particularly cold that year. The winds howled with the unforgiving tone of a beast scorned, ice clung and held to each and every surface, and yet, they were inside together. He wished he could have used the word ‘safe’ once that day, but even as he lay next to his sister, their mother curled protectively around them as they waited for his father to return, he did not feel safe. The hair stood on the back of his neck, his teeth clicked in the cold, and in fear. Something wasn’t right.
Their father had left hours ago to find food. Inside the little den his beloved and children awaited his return.
They waited and waited.
Finally, Kettil felt the warmth leave his back as his mother stood, slowly, her jaw set firm. Her eyes held an unsurpassable sadness when she looked at him, and not Iris.
“Watch over your sister,” was all she said, and gently, as easily as a night wind, she slipped through the cloth and out into the storm.
Eyes wide, Iris had tried to climb after her. He’d held her back by latching onto her tail with his teeth, wincing when she cried out. He would never forget her terrified cries.
They never saw their mother or father again.
Days went by, became a couple weeks. They were starved. The storm had since passed, and the only meager rations had been brought thanks to the efforts of Kettil, all to which he gave his sister. She was so thin, so weak. Her voice so small and eyes with no light. He knew she understood. Their parents were dead, slain in the storm. Their mother had died trying to find their father.
As if coming to the same conclusion, Iris’s eyes would fill with tears, and she would look up to Kettil, whispering, “Please don’t go…”
How could he? How could he ever abandon his sister? He’d become disgusted with himself when he considered leaving her, even for a moment, to do anything but hunt for food. Oh, but she had been forced to eat awful things. Small animals, birds… whatever he could find. The grass was too frozen, too deep, for him to reach, and even if he did manage to bring her some, it would only cut her tongue.
“I’ll be right back, Iris,” he said one morning, rising and stretching out his legs. Only a foal. Barely becoming an adult.
Alright, was her wordless reply, dark eyes rising to meet his.
He would never abandon her.
As he crept through the snow, his tail swished gently, sweeping bits of the soft dusty top layer about. Today, he was going to find her something real to eat. No more meat; she was too delicate, too good, to eat the flesh of another anymore. He was going to find her something normal.
His search had brought him to a vine, long and twisting about the trunk of a tree. It wasn’t difficult for his teeth to snap it in two places, and it was easy enough to gather up. Heart warming, he pictured her face when she saw what he had brought her. She would be so happy.
With a lighter gait than usual, Kettil returned to their den, the only source of protection they’d had from the outside world for days now. Ducking down, he pushed the cloth aside and stepped in, the corners of his mouth lifting to form a grin.
“Iris! I found something good to –“
Two other creatures stood at the end of their den, muzzles dipped in blood. Their eyes were empty and soulless. He could hardly identify them as Soquili, as strange furs adorned their backs. They looked… like him, almost.
Past them, lying on the ground, was his sister. He couldn’t… her body, it…
The vine hit the floor, and when it did, he lunged at the intruders, teeth bared and, for the first time in his life, feeling true hatred. He had never wanted to kill the small creatures he brought back to Iris. He had never hated his father, for abandoning them, or his mother, for doing the same. Everything had been done for a reason, it…
It was all over for him…
They had burst out through the cloth door and onto the snow, rolling and snapping at each other. Kettil had been young but strong, inheriting his father’s physique. As rage flooded his veins and sorrow consumed his heart, he could have said it was easy to pin the first one, rip its throat out, and turn on the other.
As his hooves sank into the skinwalker’s fur, Kettil raised his head to deal the final blow.
“Wait!” the creature howled. His mouth had taken an ugly sneer, and he could smell Iris’s blood on his teeth. Iris…
As his own teeth sank to meet the skinwalker’s throat, it cried out, “We are the same!”
He stopped.
“The same?”
He leaned back. “We are not the same!” he bellowed, striking at the skinwalker with a hoof, cutting his face. “You… you killed her! You killed my sister! I would never…”
“I have been watching you,” he said quietly, running his tongue over his mouth, tasting Iris’s blood. God damn it, he was tasting her. “You have spent days killing innocents, bringing them back for your own selfish sister. How many families did you ruin?” He snapped at Kettil, looking almost… mirthful as he did so. “How many siblings did you kill?!”
He couldn’t hear anymore. He brought his face down again, and tore out his neck. Let him taste his own blood.
Another storm hit that very day. It left Kettil stranded in the den, once more, with his sister at his side. He was unable to leave for food.
Tears streamed down his face, over his teeth, and onto his sister’s body, as he consumed her.
He vomited, body shaking, mind broken, and heart defeated. A young wolf had found its way into the den, to shield itself from the storm. It had no family, either.
He named the wolf Iris.
He would leave her side again…
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 4:27 pm
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I know, know, know this is over already, and I'm so sorry for posting out of turn. I thought the deadline was 11 pm today, and I was in class during the real deadline. Even if this isn't counted as an official entry, I have been working really hard on it and I'd hate for it to go to waste. Please forgive me.
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Beguiled
Soq Temper: Heartless
Wolf's Name: The Winter-Wolf
Story: (exactly 1500 words according to Word)
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The Winter-Wolf
(A Cautionary Tragedy for Young Soquili)
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When you hear the howling in the night, when you feel the desire to bargain for life, children—I want you to remember this tale. Listen, please, and perhaps your souls will be spared where another’s was not.
Once, long ago, when I still stuck to my mother’s side the way I see some of you stick to yours’, there was a handsome young stallion named Guileless. That was not his real name, but what he was called then has been lost to the wind as surely as last summer’s dandelion seeds. But guileless he was, and Guileless we shall call him.
That winter was particularly hard. At the time the herd lived on an open plain, not near this forest edge you now see. The wind came screaming through, and it froze us to our bones. No hide could fend off that wind, no nose pressed against a friendly flank could keep biting snow from stinging your eyes. And, one day, as we tore uselessly at brittle brown grass, a wolf appeared with the wind.
I am old now, and I have seen many wolves in my years. None of them have terrified me as much as this winter-wolf, for he had no howl but that of the wind, and he had hunger for nothing but suffering. For days he watched us huddle for warmth, smiling that sharp-toothed smile that only wolves can produce. Once one of the older Soquili tried to drive him away, but his hooves connected with nothing and the smile remained firm on the wolf’s face.
On the fifth day, a young filly collapsed into the icy snow. Her mother cried, for we all knew that she was dying, and the winter-wolf’s smile grew wider. I remember then that Guileless looked long at the hard-breathing filly, then walked to the edge of our herd and beyond—to the winter-wolf. We heard them talking on the wind.
Guileless bowed his shaggy head and said, “Please do not take the child. She is all her parents have, and they are growing old.”
“I will do as you ask,” said the winter-wolf, his voice that of ice blowing through dried leaves. “But you must give me a boon.”
“What would you like?” Guileless asked, quiet and serious.
“I want your mane to keep me warm in this wind,” was the response. Guileless nodded and that was that.
The filly huddled against her mother’s belly when Guileless returned to us, his head and neck bare. We shielded him against the wind and did not speak of his sacrifice.
The next day an old mare began to cough blood. The rattle in her chest spoke of a quick death fast approaching, and we could not stop Guileless from leaving us again.
“I am weaving myself a cloak,” whispered the wolf, “but I have not enough to spin the thread. Won’t you give me your tail?”
And Guileless returned to us, the fine silken hair of his tail gone, and in its place a thick furry brush of a thing. We would not speak it aloud, but it reminded us of the tail attached to the winter-wolf itself.
For days everything seemed fine. We were cold and starving-hungry, but no one else was ill. Then, as we began to hope for spring’s return, a fever raced through the herd. We could see the winter-wolf behind a tussock, grinning his grin. Though we tried to stop Guileless, again he went to the wolf.
“I have finished my cloak, but its color does not please me. In exchange for wellness, won’t you give me the color from your coat? It is such a small price to pay, don’t you think?”
Guileless said nothing, just bowed his head. When he came back, all of the fine colors of his hide, the sunset-orange and the jay-blue which had been his gifts from the gods, had been leached to a dull grey. The hair was thick and coarse now, and the effect was frightening. But health had returned to the herd, and we could not bring ourselves to complain.
Finally, finally Spring began to show her flowered head. Guileless danced through the melting snow with the rest of the young Soquili, heedless of his ruined coat and curious tail. But even as we feasted on tender young grass, a chill wind froze our marrow.
We heard a sound like a dry branch snapped underhoof, then the screams of a colt. He had jumped too high and landed awkwardly, and now a front leg curved like a serpent under his skin. We tried to keep him still and let it mend, but the fire of infection spread through his body until we were certain that he would not see another sunrise.
When we heard the laugh like icicles breaking off tree branches, Guileless whirled and trotted toward the sound. An old stallion stood in his way, refusing to let him pass. But Guileless turned helplessly to the whimpering colt, a quiet need to help showing in his features, and eventually the old one let him pass.
Guileless found the winter-wolf in a patch of snow protected by a bush’s shadow, and he asked simply, “What more can I give?”
“It may be growing warm here,” said the wolf, toothed grin becoming ever wider, “but in my home it is always cold. My cloak keeps sliding from my shoulders, and I want to fasten it about my neck.”
“What can I give?” Guileless repeated, and the whole herd was still while we listened for the answer.
“I think,” said the wolf, “that the green of your eyes would make for a beautiful clasp. Give me your eyes, Soquili.”
We cried for him when Guileless stumbled back, the kindly greenness in his face replaced by glowing yellow. We had heard him squeal in pain as the wolf had taken its boon, and though his look repulsed us now, we loved him more than ever.
The thing about love, children, is that it can overcome every single thing on the outside as long as good rests inside. And Guileless was so good on the inside that no glowing eyes or rough grey coat could make us repulsed for long.
Guileless had taken a mate the summer before, a loyal mare who had been the last to leave him as he went to meet the wolf and the first to meet him after his return. She was his constant comfort, and it had brought him great joy to know that, as the spring wore on, she would be foaling soon. But as the days dragged by and her breathing became more and more strained, the labor pains constant but fruitless, we knew there was a problem.
And though it was nearly summer, one evening a sharp wind straight from the bosom of January pricked at our warmth-softened hides. It was then that Guileless threw back his head in sorrow, for he knew what he must do.
As a whole, we the herd formed a solid line which blocked him from the ice-sharp grin behind the scrub. We did not know what else he could give, but we could not allow him to find out. He was dear to us, the savior of many a life and a love, and we could not lose him to the winter-wolf.
But he stared at us, a haunted look in his face, and we could hear the whinnies of pain from his mate as she suffered. Not one of us could meet his eyes, and not one of us could bring ourselves to move as he pushed through the line and went to meet the wolf.
“My cloak is well-made,” it said. “It is beautiful and comfortable. But I do not think it is complete. It lacks the warmth that I crave, so I have come for the last thing that I need.”
Guileless laid his thickened ears back against his skull, his eyes staring at the ground. “Tell me what you want.”
“Just a trifle,” the wolf laughed, its voice like a tree shattering in the cold. “Just your heart.”
Guileless’s mate bore a beautiful son, his coat like a sunset and his eyes like fresh grass—every bit like his father’s old glory. But Guileless did not come back to meet him, because Guileless did not come back at all.
We know he exists, children. We hear him in the dark, we see his glowing eyes. But without his heart, we cannot welcome him back, because we have lost too many young colts and fillies to a creature in the woods with teeth like a wolf but hooves like a Soquili. By now he has taken many more lives than he ever saved, and every winter we must warn our young to ignore the voices on the wind.
Those too young to remember call him the Wolf, but the old still call him Beguiled—for he gave up his heart out of love.
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 5:15 pm
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...I'm in the same situation as Necrona. This ended when I got out of school, so I couldn't have posted it in time, and I had this all written up.
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Avisira
Soq Temper: Wickedly Righteous
Rat's Name: Ashubarl
Story: (741 words)
The first emotion I felt was bitterness.
There was nothing to salve the burning sting of the feeling, and it ate at my soul, the vile tendrils that protruded from its writhing dark body pulsing as they tore my innocence from my soul, tainting it with the merest touch.
Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself, am I not? I have not yet bespoke the beginning of the tale to you, the one whom I have pinned beneath my hoof. I know that one such as you cannot grasp what shall be said, but please, do try to. It may be a bit difficult for the mind of a creature of the dark to receive the full meaning of such lore, and I will make an allowance for that.
What’s that you say? You’re not a creature of the dark?
I beg to differ with you, my sinister little enemy. Squirm and writhe all you want, but I shall not release you.
Now, on to the tale.
It began in the dark fortress of decaying trees, the charcoal talons of the branches clawing and scraping at the pale, pure moon in its desperate endeavor to escape from the cold prison of the dread forest. Fog crept inbetween the dark pillars of the ancient tree trunks, their skeletal forms bare and black. The silvery cloak of the fog covered the barren, desecrated land with its frozen white fingers, digging in handholds as it advanced in its solemn march. The moon’s forlorn glow cascaded down onto the dead scene below, as if mourning over the death that now ruled with an iron hand over this once green and verdant sanctuary of life, now a frigid, dark, and forbidding crypt of silence. None stirred in this sanctum of the night, save one soul.
I awoke in that place, with no memory of myself. The life I had lived before was erased from me, the shadows having taken it in return for my new existence. A wave of bitterness washed over me, just as poignant and strong as I have described it before I began. I still to this day have no recollection as to why that would be the first thing I felt…why not rage or sorrow? I had just had my entire life taken from me, but why did I feel bitter? Did I not live it to the fullest? Or was it just by some cruel stroke of fate that I had deemed it well, deep down in my unconscious soul, that bitterness was appropriate for such a time?
Oh, stop your squirming. I’ll cease my recanting and continue on.
There was a sound, beautiful and forlorn like none other. It rang out in the forest, loud and clear like the chime of crystal bells. The note was pure and wonderful, and I have never heard a sound anything like it in all my days. Or at least in the ones I can remember
Yes, it was a beautiful sound…that is, until you realized what it was.
It was the scream of the purity of a soul as it was torn from its vessel.
I whirled to face it, and the hauntingly wonderful image had me horrified. What could it be, that was the unfortunate creature to have such a thing stripped from them? The bitterness washed over me again, eating away in a tandem with my rage at the torment of something so beautiful. The purity was eerily familiar, and it puzzled me for a moment.
I then realized that that was my purity, and the pitiful thing had taken my shape as it had been torn from me.
With a neigh of loss, I bolted after it, trying to catch it. The purity faded away like mist on the wind as soon as it went out of my sight, and there I stood, sobbing in this eternal crypt of silence.
Ever since then, I have dedicated what remains of myself to eradicating the creatures of shadow that have forced this wrong upon me, donning a mask the ivory of bone, and a hood like blood. My wings are stained with the blood of the creatures of the darkness, and a rat I had found on the way accompanies me now, directing me towards the sinister spirits that rend and tear the souls of the innocent.
But then again, you already knew all that, didn’t you, my quicksilver ebony shadow….?
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 8:26 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 10, 2009 12:36 pm
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Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2009 5:24 am
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Molten Tigrex generated a random number between
1 and 4 ...
1!
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Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2009 5:25 am
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