On the first day of Autumn, the morning sun was greeted by warm tones of red and orange, bright golds and hearty browns just beginning to take hold of the once green leaves that adorned the trees through summer. However, even the sun could not burn away the greying mist that rose from the night chilled ground, reaching to the still dark sky, heavy with grey clouds, waiting to release their burdens upon the world below.
As the sun rose higher, she was swallowed by the stifling blanket charged with static, hanging over the sleeping city below. As her light was muffled and her shine dulled, the sky roared it’s triumph, and with a crack of violet, the clouds were torn asunder, and the pieces fell like shattered glass, hard and cold, to the earth below. The heavy drops of water struck the leaves and clung to them, and twas then, in the frozen rain on the first day of autumn, the first crimson leaf fell to the earth like a drop of blood.
It was the roar of thunder that woke the adult b'alam who had been sleeping soundly in his den; startling him from his dreams. The rain pounded against the earth outside and the light that filtered through the hanging curtain of ivy and vines over his den entrance was grey and dull, despite the colors of the world outside. He shivered in the cold morning air that carried the chill of rain and slipped from the dark, empty den where he'd spent the night.
Vayl was no stranger to early mornings, and he certainly wasn’t unaccustomed to the rainy weather. Summer was finally over, and that meant cool, crisp, foggy mornings. There was something about the embrace of fog and the way the mist danced over the earth that gave his soul a boost, and a deeper awareness settled in him, giving him a clearer mind.
His instincts were sharper, and his reaction times were quicker. These were the mornings he loved.
He let the chill of the rain beat down over him, his silver fur sticking to his form until each move made his body look like it was made of shimmering, molten metal. Lightning flashed above him and the violet light illuminated his coat in a number of electric hues.
His pale eyes scanned the horizon as his ears lay back against his skull. His white brows lowered as he focused, seeking signs of movement. Something had caught his eye in the flash of light and his confident movements had stilled, hidden beneath bushes that shuddered with the weight of falling rain.
When he saw nothing, he rose, swiftly padding from his cover, and he turned his eyes to the sky above, gazing into the storm that raged, water following the white markings down his cheeks.
It was times like these that the world matched the tumult inside of him; while the world slept and he felt like he was the only creature awake for miles.
This strange, quiet world where the only sound was the rain falling and the rumble of thunder, was the closest he knew to home. This had been the state of the world when he'd first awoken, and every storm that followed gave him this sense of rightness.
This storm... it was different. While he felt that sense of right, he also felt a strange sense of Waiting. A drive to seek. Like something had been hidden that he was meant to find.
So; on sodden paws, he began to run. He had no destination in mind, but the storm and his instincts drove him.
As the sun rose higher, she was swallowed by the stifling blanket charged with static, hanging over the sleeping city below. As her light was muffled and her shine dulled, the sky roared it’s triumph, and with a crack of violet, the clouds were torn asunder, and the pieces fell like shattered glass, hard and cold, to the earth below. The heavy drops of water struck the leaves and clung to them, and twas then, in the frozen rain on the first day of autumn, the first crimson leaf fell to the earth like a drop of blood.
It was the roar of thunder that woke the adult b'alam who had been sleeping soundly in his den; startling him from his dreams. The rain pounded against the earth outside and the light that filtered through the hanging curtain of ivy and vines over his den entrance was grey and dull, despite the colors of the world outside. He shivered in the cold morning air that carried the chill of rain and slipped from the dark, empty den where he'd spent the night.
Vayl was no stranger to early mornings, and he certainly wasn’t unaccustomed to the rainy weather. Summer was finally over, and that meant cool, crisp, foggy mornings. There was something about the embrace of fog and the way the mist danced over the earth that gave his soul a boost, and a deeper awareness settled in him, giving him a clearer mind.
His instincts were sharper, and his reaction times were quicker. These were the mornings he loved.
He let the chill of the rain beat down over him, his silver fur sticking to his form until each move made his body look like it was made of shimmering, molten metal. Lightning flashed above him and the violet light illuminated his coat in a number of electric hues.
His pale eyes scanned the horizon as his ears lay back against his skull. His white brows lowered as he focused, seeking signs of movement. Something had caught his eye in the flash of light and his confident movements had stilled, hidden beneath bushes that shuddered with the weight of falling rain.
When he saw nothing, he rose, swiftly padding from his cover, and he turned his eyes to the sky above, gazing into the storm that raged, water following the white markings down his cheeks.
It was times like these that the world matched the tumult inside of him; while the world slept and he felt like he was the only creature awake for miles.
This strange, quiet world where the only sound was the rain falling and the rumble of thunder, was the closest he knew to home. This had been the state of the world when he'd first awoken, and every storm that followed gave him this sense of rightness.
This storm... it was different. While he felt that sense of right, he also felt a strange sense of Waiting. A drive to seek. Like something had been hidden that he was meant to find.
So; on sodden paws, he began to run. He had no destination in mind, but the storm and his instincts drove him.
Zakiax
Word Count: 606 Words