Dark Night Storm
The woods were quiet as the partial lunar eye peaked from behind silver wisps. The giants with their leafy limbs and branches were filled with Spring's new buds and thus swung heavily by Gods' breath. A romantic setting for bloody survival.
Padding through the fallen leaves of yester-year, a large amber-eyed wolf enjoys the beautiful night. She ignores the owl's "Hark," and explores lost tracks. She comes across a clearing where waits an intruder. Staying in shadow she observes his reclined form as his mind entertains itself with fancy. The wind blew in her favor, blood dressed him almost as if his very clothes were made from the once living fluid. A smile.
The moon's gaze barely passed the boughs that served as shelter for the earth below. It would be easy to miss the wolf and her fierce gaze if he hadn't been listening to the voices of the forest. The very wind that blew spoke of her silver fur, the ground beneath trembled in anticipation of her grace, the plants cried in glee for the privilege of her passing touch.
He had come to this clearing to escape from judgment of the crying mortals. Apparently, the hags were not done toying with his fate. With eyes half hooded by lashes, he watched and waited with her. For her.
The lunar eye blinked slowly as milky clouds were herded by storm winds. The silver hair flowed over muscle and sinew as the wolf loped into the clearing; but when she neared the center it was not a wolf that stood before the man's eyes. Skin of moon powder and hair of obsidian she stood gazing down her nose at him with eyes of the sun. This close she knew she underestimated him. No mere man this intruder be. She gazed at him as he began the ascent to his feet, the power roiling off of him like waves in a lake. She held her ground as he shortened the gap between the two of them to a few feet. His dark eyes never left her face as they re-assessed the other.
The wind picked up from behind the storm's skirt and ran hurriedly through the clearing. Leaves danced on the flows and eddy of the wind like forgotten wings. The moon disappeared behind the roiling darkness of storm, hiding. The scent of blood surrounded her as if to clothe her naked form in the same way it did for the stranger. His eyes held a sort of humor as if her presence was a mere joke. Anger began to smolder behind her eyes, yet her stance was casual, ready. A distant growl.
She came up just short of his nose in height, but she would prove to be more troublesome then the brewing storm on its way.
"Sanctuary," he whispered, hoping she understood. She blinked, seemingly trying to remember the word. Then a slow smile, icy. Apparently, this will cost him. She turned and the wolf trotted away watching over her shoulder to ensure that he still followed. A game.
Twice she ducked into turns trying to lose him. Twice he was quick to follow, always on her heels. The woods grew hush with the oncoming storm as they tracked and back tracked in every direction. She was not going to make this easy. And then she jumped, leaping across a wide ravine. He leapt and landed short. He scrabbled for purchase against the slick cliff side. She came to the edge where he clung by his arms and laid there, watching.
She was not going to be of any help. He reached his arm as far as he could chance it and grabbed hold of a bit of tall grass and pulled. Then with the other arm he reached till he found a root. He slid over the edge on his belly until he was able to stand. The stranger looked around for the wolf. Gone.
The storm's passion was growing stronger with each passing wind. Lightning caressed the sky with its whip crack and the forest began passing a strange new perfume of sweat and flame. A hunt was on the loose and they followed on hell hounds' heels.
She was gone for but a minute. Water had beckoned her parched throat. If the stranger could not survive beyond her missing presence for that short time, he was not worth the help she offered. When she return to where she last left him, a rustle of leaves alerted her to his position: behind and a bit to the left. She ran.
Instinct told him that they were not headed towards the heart of the forest, but to what edge he did not know. Tirelessly he traveled his unknown course with but a silver guide. He knew that this would be their only meeting. The fates would be sure of that. His life and travel would be sure of that. Once the trees break out onto open clearing, their paths will diverge and never to cross again. What was there to mourn but a secret found?
A tree cries in pain. The wind carries a new fragrance of burning. Time was running short for the hunted hunter. Shouts of mourners and families in upheaval could be heard through the woods. Sorrow filled even the dumbest of creatures upon hearing the lament, but fear soon spread through out the forest as orange lightning ignited boughs. Dryads sounded the alarms and everyone began their flee. All but the forlorn hunters who spread along the outskirts with torch in hand.
Hunted hunter and moon graced wolf split at the last tree's edge. He never stopped running till a new hunting ground could be found. Yet, she crested a hill and watched her home burn. There will be survival and there will be regrowth. Life will return for death could not be without.
End