Post by Caspian on Aug 12, 2012 17:25:15 GMT -5
The setting sun cast a burning glow out over the lake, bathing it in an almost blood red glow. Fitting that a male, whose thoughts and memories were awash with blood would choose such a moment to hunt.
He was tracking a fish in the shallow waters.
Fitting that a night so fit for revenge, for wrath would name the male. Prince Caspian. His paw steps were silent, as was everything about him. Caspian looked about himself before setting off into the water. It was as if the wolf cared about who was looking on.
The fish didn't know where he was.
It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong. Just a little hunting, but Caspian called it revenge. Misery. Revenge. Wrath. The words, had they ever been spoken, would have been sweet on his tongue. Since that night, Caspian would have to be content to crack it out from the pit of his throat, or to say it over and over in his thoughts.
The fish swam on without knowing anything was wrong.
Lifting his nose to the air, the male smelled it. Bird, particularly of the corvid variety. Perhaps it was stupid that the male chose to exact his revenge upon birds. But, of course, they were to blame. Yet just as easily, Caspian could have blamed it upon the Alphess of his old home.
He turned away from the fish and out towards the bird.
There, in the distance, was the bird. It was black, obviously, yet it stood out in the almost black night sky. Caspian smiled, letting out a hiss of foggy breath. It wasn't a cat hiss, more of the hiss of a tire leaking air, or of something similar. He sat, and waited, calm and quiet as he watched the raven.
It hopped into range. He swung his tail around and hit it hard. The bird was killed swiftly and he laughed faintly.
He was tracking a fish in the shallow waters.
Fitting that a night so fit for revenge, for wrath would name the male. Prince Caspian. His paw steps were silent, as was everything about him. Caspian looked about himself before setting off into the water. It was as if the wolf cared about who was looking on.
The fish didn't know where he was.
It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong. Just a little hunting, but Caspian called it revenge. Misery. Revenge. Wrath. The words, had they ever been spoken, would have been sweet on his tongue. Since that night, Caspian would have to be content to crack it out from the pit of his throat, or to say it over and over in his thoughts.
The fish swam on without knowing anything was wrong.
Lifting his nose to the air, the male smelled it. Bird, particularly of the corvid variety. Perhaps it was stupid that the male chose to exact his revenge upon birds. But, of course, they were to blame. Yet just as easily, Caspian could have blamed it upon the Alphess of his old home.
He turned away from the fish and out towards the bird.
There, in the distance, was the bird. It was black, obviously, yet it stood out in the almost black night sky. Caspian smiled, letting out a hiss of foggy breath. It wasn't a cat hiss, more of the hiss of a tire leaking air, or of something similar. He sat, and waited, calm and quiet as he watched the raven.
It hopped into range. He swung his tail around and hit it hard. The bird was killed swiftly and he laughed faintly.
