A sound woke up Peirce. Some sound. Peirce did not know what it was. He heard it again. It was a voice, of a sweet doe, he once knew. Angel? Peirce stood up, looking in all directions, to see who the doe was. And if it was indeed Angel, well, he would be very happy.
He did not hear the voice again or see the doe, so he gave up, until he heard the voice again. This time Peirce saw a doe walking towards him. She had beautiful, long, blue fur, with the real deer mask on. Peirce did not recognize her at first until he saw her sweet, green eyes.
"Mother!"
He started to bang at the wall of the cage, knowing he would fail. His mother started to back away.
"No! Don't leave me again! Please!"
He couldn't help but let one tear fall. Peirce charged at the wall again, but this time a blue fog appeared, and surrounded him. He heard a violin sound. Before Peirce knew it, he was outside the cage. At first Peirce thought he was dreaming. He tried jumping to see if he would fly. No. This was real.
"I'm... I'm free!"
He jumped in and out of the cage. The blue fog appeared each time. He was unlocked. Freed.
He saw his mother running away.
"No! Don't go away!"
Peirce ran after her, out of the Ruins, and then when he reached the pond. Suddenly she started screaming. Peirce knew this scream from somewhere...
Then he heard a familiar roar. A cougar jumped onto her neck, and blood spewed everywhere. Peirce heard a fawn's "Nooooo!". Then, the cougar and his Mother disappeared.
Peirce stood there. He did not know what happened. But then he looked around. I'm not in the Ruins... I'm free.
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We do not know, the lives of birds. In the forest, we can not see so high. The canopy extends so much farther than the eyes of a deer can. Even those of us with wings... they can not reach the top of the canopy, where the birds gather in a net of branches. Up there, they flit to and fro in the green and golden world.
How do I know? My friend, the bluebird, told me as much. That is how I know.
He told me, his feathers ruffling to catch the heat of the day, that it was brighter up there with the birds. You could see the sun, he told me. There was no canopy above him, just the blue sky we as deer only glimpse through the trees sometimes, and stare in to above the pond, but cannot reach like my friend the bluebird can. He can skim it, he says, and it feels like water. It feels like home to the bluebird in the trees. There is constant song unlike the ones we hear. It is a whispering song, interspersed with trills and twitters and the occasional squawk of upset or caw of a large crow come to tell of the activity of De Drinkplaats as he had seen it. There is always a shade of gold on the air, he told me. It is like the pollen that floats among the deer has dyed that air.
The place sounds beautiful, I think. Though I am only a deer, I would love to fly that high. Maybe I would be a crow or a white dove when I grow up, when I can keep our magic.
The birds have no magic, though, seeing as they do not need it. The bluebird told me how it felt to have wind beneath his little wings. He told me that he could sing. He told me that he could teach me to, but that he would only stay awhile, until I grew up, but not all the time. Right now, he said, that he had to fly away. I jumped up, hoping to catch him and bring him back, but my little teeth snapped down on his wing. He cried out, dropped to the ground.
I tried to say sorry, but he just would not reply... he would not wake up. No more would I hear of the secret life of birds.
When she had told him of what was to come, his reply had been a quiet 'I will deal with it'. The king had disappeared after that, and had not been seen by anyone in his kingdom for days. Despite the goblins' fear of their king, they had grown worried, and run amock in the castle and its grounds, and all the goblin villages, shrieking and wailing. 'KINGY GONE!' or 'KINGY VANISH!' or 'KINGY LEAVE!' was a constant echo, almost background noise now.
One Thousand Paper Cranes, and you may have one wish. Fore the War to be over. For there to be peace. But one thousand paper cranes are like faded petals in an inferno, consumed, obliverated by the flames of hate. Nothing can keep the warring people at bay. Not even a wish. Or can it? When a young madien folds the greif of her fathers death into the memories of her past, she is told she can have one wish. But before she can make her wish, a fire destroys her house, her village, and her family. All that is left is the burnt remains of her last paper crane, and a single wish: For the world to fall into internal sleep, until the forest and wlderness has purified the fields and rivers of spilled blood, and the animals could speak the ancient words of healing. But the language of those past had been lost for century, and only bits and pieces could be found of it. The seven spirits would bear a children one day marked by a birth born of destiny. But none of the creatures could speak the same language. There only chance to save the humans, and the aging world would be find the bravery and truth within themselves to piece togather a mystery lost in time.
Name: Stormbringer
Gender: Female
Age: Two seasons
Spirit: Wolf
Personality: A bitter and angry personality comes from her tragic path. Like the fire that consumed the forest over a century before, a fire claimed her parents, her pack, her forest. Untrustworthy and damaged, her bravery and kindess have been smothered by a painful history.
Apperence: Her coat is a mixture of different hues of silver, white, and grey.
“Who are you?” You may ask, a taunting smile stretching your face, a certain expectation shimmering in your eyes.
“Come to me; do as I say.”
Many times have I asked myself the same; who am I? Often times, I have purged my own wants, my own desires, in order to satiate the will of another. Happiness eluded me, misery jeered at me. And I always found myself asking that damned question, over and over, in the hopes that I could form my own answer without being forced to recant it.
Far too many times has my heart been torn to shreds, only to be patched up then torn again. Far too many times have I chased the uncatchable, reaching, only to barely touch it before it vanished before my eyes. Far too many times have I done something with the wretched fear that I will lose something precious to me in the process. Far too many times have I questioned the love and friendships of those who have surrounded me.
I have had plenty of time to think; plenty of time to do as I please – plenty of time to see who I have wanted to see, play with whomever I wished to.
What I am about to say are words that have danced around my brain, screaming for release. Sure, as I proclaim them, my heart shall ricochet within the confines of its cage that are my ribs; fear will constrict me, as it has done so many times. But my mind will be stoic, and my words will be strong and true.
I could feel them watching, I could sense them all around me. A shiver coursed through my body as I crouched among the flowers, praying to the Gods that I wouldn't be seen. I could hear quiet footsteps and I held my breath, eyes shutting as I could feel them coming closer. The sounds stopped and I cracked open one eye, as unmoving as a statue, trying to see if they were still here. The footsteps faded away and I let out a sigh of relief, although my body did not relax. They were still lurking, taunting me, screaming at me and I could hear them.
I took off, running toward my second sanctuary, a place where it glimmered and a cool breeze wafted across the surface. My hopes shattered as I saw the group had migrated there and were kneeling next to the water. Skidding to a halt I stumbled, hands gripping at the dirt on the slope as I tried to get away from them, to not be noticed. I stifled a cry as I gripped a sharp rock that jutted out from the hillside, the jagged edge cutting into my flesh and I glanced back in horror. They continued their frolicking around the fire as I ran.
Finding solace within a tree, I leaned back into the small opening and watched. I could see the flicker of a fire and that gave me some hope that they would be preoccupied, that I would be safe. The dark pull of unconsciousness fought with me and I wanted to refuse, I couldn't fall asleep while vulnerable on the ground. Just a few minutes, that's all.
Do you think she's awake?
A shrill giggle echoed and I opened my eyes and looking with an unfocused gaze at a face. A face that interrupted the otherwise unbroken circle that was the opening of the trunk. I shifted in place, hands behind my back as I looked for a way out.
Do you think she wants to play?
I found what I was looking for and I scrambled to fit through the slender opening, my body nearly getting stuck and I scrambled to my feet, taking off once again.
