Blood.
It was something he was used to, but seeing the sea stretched out before him in stark contrast to the white sky scared him. The boiling bubbles popped against his legs, causing pain to race up the dark fur.
Pain was an everyday occurrence in his world. Emotional or Physical; it didn’t matter. All that mattered was surviving.
Happiness eluded him. Every time he thought he was happy something new came to spoil it. He was happy in the pride. Happy with his mate at his side, until she had laid with that thing.
Emotional.
Happy with cubs that weren’t his blood. Happy to call them sons and daughters. Happy to see them run, play, laugh, dance, and grow. Happy to leave, until she returned.
Emotional.
Happy to have sons and daughters once more. Mixed blood, hybrids with his eyes, love in their hearts. Happy to be a grandfather. Until he came.
Emotional.
The blood burned his every step. Deep inside his gut like a writhing snake, it twisted and coiled until every inch of him was singed in flames. The ever burning need to run was buried under layers of helplessness and hate. How long would he be under her spell? The spell of that heartless whore who he dared called mother. The same mother who had bore a young son that yearned to call him brother, and a strong daughter that sought to end it all.
Lumbering paws fought to walk in the coagulated swamp. He buried his nose in his mane to try to fight off the stench of death, but didn’t dare hide his eyes for fear that when he did, she would come to claim him once more. The fear kept him moving, kept him breathing and fighting with every step to keep going, to never stop.
Emotional.
He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been fighting. He’d fought to claim his place in a pride of blood drinkers, then to stay alive in the lands of rogues until he’d found a new home. Even then he’d been called to fight. Fight against intruders. Marauders and thieves, strangers and friends. Everyone who had stood up to him incited his wrath.
Physical.
When his younger brother had finally come across him, only to snap and turn vicious. A lunatic’s paws had gorged deep into his flesh, tearing out great chunks of consciousness and love.
Physical.
When his son had fought against him for bringing him into the world. For cursing him with the life of a hybrid. The pain had been unrivaled that day, and even after the storm had passed, it still constricted around his soul like barbed wire.
Plowing through the red haze wasn’t anything new.
It was terrifying and as much as he wanted to run, it was impossible, but he knew it would be alright. In his heart he knew the tide would pass.
Someday.
When the world was clean and bright. When his children were grown. When his dark angel could smile without having to fear that a demon would steal her love away.
Someday.
---------
Abrafo awoke with a startled gasp.
The nightmares had all, but stopped since Xandeleigh came to live him with. So why did they show up now? Why now when he was finally at peace?
He rolled over, blinking his eyes against the noon day sun. The larger half of the family group was out on the hunt, and for once, he had readily accepted the babysitting duty. Since Safi’s children had ascended into adolescence, it wasn’t that hard to keep up with them anymore.
He just had to watch out for Cari’s ‘hugs’. The girl could be down right vicious when she wanted to be.
The older lion stood, his body popping in ways that he really wished they wouldn’t. It just served as further proof that he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and was one foot closer to the grave.
“Grandpa! Check this out.” He turned in time to see Cari dragged a water buffalo through the stream. It was nearly twice her size, but with familial tenacity, she drug it happily.
“You caught that?”
“Where else would it come from? The sky?” She rolled her eyes and bypassed him; her pristine coat covered in blood and filth.
He stepped back to watch her. A leotah from his blood line; as strong and proud as a lion, as silent as a leopard, and as fast as a cheetah. In her was the best of every world, and one day, he hoped she would be able to pass it on.
Though, he held no hopes. Safi was a fluke, he knew, but he was happy never the less to be called Grandpa.
Even if it did make him old.
Abrafo chuckled and walked down to the stream.
Blood.
He stopped, staring down at the quickly dispersing red filth that dared disgrace the stream. It soaked the earth around it, bringing a strain to the once luscious grass.
Instantly he was thrown back into his dreams, and with it came a warning. A battle was coming soon, one that would soak the river in blood, and tame the heavens.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t been able to see it before, but now everything was suddenly so clear. It was foreshadowing his fight with his mother. With the help of his siblings, she would finally be gone from this world once and for all.
“Cari!” Abrafo turned, and ran after his granddaughter. He didn’t care that she was trying to pull the hide off the dead carcass, or that when he yelled at her, she slipped and fell INTO it. “CARI!”
“What? What did I do now?” She squeaked, disgust written all over her face as she tried to get out of the gooey mess.
“We have to find everyone. NOW. I just….I just had a vision.”
“You’re not a seer.” She pointed out.
“A dream, then! Does it matter? I told you to move, and I meant it!” He bent down to swat her rump, and followed after her when she ran.
Blood. Blood like rivers would run soon, and they all needed to prepare.
(WC: 1,035)
