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Jun. 2nd, 2005 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unknownfateBleah, bleah, bleah.
It's a grim rainy day. I've accomplished nothing of note. My failure at the preacher cookies hasn't stopped me from eating them.
Tomorrow, I go to visit the folks. They say it's raining there too, so I won't take the kitties. They'd want to come in and the folks don't care for cats in the house. Especially mine.
And in fanfic news, here's
Night was a wolf who’d been attacked by a Bitten one full-moon night. She’d been born a wolf, and though she didn’t understand what happened to her when the moon changed, it didn’t disrupt her schedule much. Her mate was also Bitten, but had been born a human. The Bite had cost him his place in the human packs, so he had left them to lead a hermit’s life in the mountains. The moon had called him, though, and eventually, so had Night.
They had three cubs, only one of which ever had a human name.
By this time, there was a new chieftain among the werewolves. He had fought their strongest and stood bristling in the bloodied moonlight. He named himself that night. He was the One-Never-Defeated. His human name meant the same thing, but Night and her kin hardly cared. He also brought war with him.
The hunting began after that. The full moon people had always been hated and feared, but never openly hunted. They were slain with silver and tormented with magic. In time, they learned to fight back, and the true war began.
The black cub still remembered. She was grown now, as sleek and black as her mother had been, but she remembered what happened. She had been playing, a fumble-footed child, too young to hunt, too sharp-toothed for Night to nurse her. Her brother and sister were gray and silver and they rolled together in a wrestle-ball of fur. They played and growled and tussled each other in the leaves.
Their lean, nameless father had gotten up to knock them away from each other when their play became too noisy, and then the magic had rained down on them. Their father was burned by green fire. He died in twisting agony and his familiar, beloved shape collapsed into a human one. The male cub cried out and they saw him pinned to the ground by a silver thing. He screamed and his blood flowed.
Night ran to her cub, but a new blast of the green-light-that-burned drove her back. When the glare faded, the cub was dead. Night wailed her grief. The black cub and her sister huddled together as voices and lights lit the dark woods around them.
Night didn’t understand, but she knew what death was. She turned and ran as silver arrows fell around her. She snatched up the gray cub in her jaws and fled into the dark. The black cub ran after as best she could.
Every turn brought fire and silver, the smell of blood and dying. The black cub ran blindly and soon couldn’t see her mother anymore. She called desperately after her mother and heard a frantic answer. She aimed her nose toward the sound and ran.
Perhaps Night would have turned back for her remaining cub, but she never had the chance. Enchanted silver fell like sharp rain. Night was skewered and fell, her gray daughter bouncing from her grip.
The black cub caught up in time to see a human female drive a sword through her mother’s heart and then seize her squalling sister up by the scruff of the neck. The frightened cub’s wails vanished into a scream as a ball of flame lit around her.
The black cub cowered, and in her black pelt, in the dark, she was overlooked. She stayed there until morning with the skinned corpse of her mother and the ashes of her sister. Afraid to make a sound, she didn’t move at all until a trueborn from the old pack came and carried her away. He took her to where the survivors hid.
Most of the Bitten had been killed, but the trueborn healed faster and kept their wits better. One named Anada Goldenglare took the black cub to replace her sons who had died in the green fire. Anada could shapeshift easily and she taught the black cub that to fight the humans, it helped to look like one.
“They’re afraid of animals,” Anada said. “But a female of their own kind can approach them easily and kill them. They admire pretty things, so be sweet and soft as a rose and they won’t feel the thorns until the blood spills.” She named her adopted daughter Blackrose to drive the lesson home, and it wasn’t until Tanner came along that anyone dared call her Rosie.
It's a grim rainy day. I've accomplished nothing of note. My failure at the preacher cookies hasn't stopped me from eating them.
Tomorrow, I go to visit the folks. They say it's raining there too, so I won't take the kitties. They'd want to come in and the folks don't care for cats in the house. Especially mine.
And in fanfic news, here's
Night was a wolf who’d been attacked by a Bitten one full-moon night. She’d been born a wolf, and though she didn’t understand what happened to her when the moon changed, it didn’t disrupt her schedule much. Her mate was also Bitten, but had been born a human. The Bite had cost him his place in the human packs, so he had left them to lead a hermit’s life in the mountains. The moon had called him, though, and eventually, so had Night.
They had three cubs, only one of which ever had a human name.
By this time, there was a new chieftain among the werewolves. He had fought their strongest and stood bristling in the bloodied moonlight. He named himself that night. He was the One-Never-Defeated. His human name meant the same thing, but Night and her kin hardly cared. He also brought war with him.
The hunting began after that. The full moon people had always been hated and feared, but never openly hunted. They were slain with silver and tormented with magic. In time, they learned to fight back, and the true war began.
The black cub still remembered. She was grown now, as sleek and black as her mother had been, but she remembered what happened. She had been playing, a fumble-footed child, too young to hunt, too sharp-toothed for Night to nurse her. Her brother and sister were gray and silver and they rolled together in a wrestle-ball of fur. They played and growled and tussled each other in the leaves.
Their lean, nameless father had gotten up to knock them away from each other when their play became too noisy, and then the magic had rained down on them. Their father was burned by green fire. He died in twisting agony and his familiar, beloved shape collapsed into a human one. The male cub cried out and they saw him pinned to the ground by a silver thing. He screamed and his blood flowed.
Night ran to her cub, but a new blast of the green-light-that-burned drove her back. When the glare faded, the cub was dead. Night wailed her grief. The black cub and her sister huddled together as voices and lights lit the dark woods around them.
Night didn’t understand, but she knew what death was. She turned and ran as silver arrows fell around her. She snatched up the gray cub in her jaws and fled into the dark. The black cub ran after as best she could.
Every turn brought fire and silver, the smell of blood and dying. The black cub ran blindly and soon couldn’t see her mother anymore. She called desperately after her mother and heard a frantic answer. She aimed her nose toward the sound and ran.
Perhaps Night would have turned back for her remaining cub, but she never had the chance. Enchanted silver fell like sharp rain. Night was skewered and fell, her gray daughter bouncing from her grip.
The black cub caught up in time to see a human female drive a sword through her mother’s heart and then seize her squalling sister up by the scruff of the neck. The frightened cub’s wails vanished into a scream as a ball of flame lit around her.
The black cub cowered, and in her black pelt, in the dark, she was overlooked. She stayed there until morning with the skinned corpse of her mother and the ashes of her sister. Afraid to make a sound, she didn’t move at all until a trueborn from the old pack came and carried her away. He took her to where the survivors hid.
Most of the Bitten had been killed, but the trueborn healed faster and kept their wits better. One named Anada Goldenglare took the black cub to replace her sons who had died in the green fire. Anada could shapeshift easily and she taught the black cub that to fight the humans, it helped to look like one.
“They’re afraid of animals,” Anada said. “But a female of their own kind can approach them easily and kill them. They admire pretty things, so be sweet and soft as a rose and they won’t feel the thorns until the blood spills.” She named her adopted daughter Blackrose to drive the lesson home, and it wasn’t until Tanner came along that anyone dared call her Rosie.
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hey darlin...
Date: 2005-06-02 11:11 pm (UTC)Re: hey darlin...
Date: 2005-06-02 11:28 pm (UTC)You wish is my command...
Date: 2005-06-02 11:57 pm (UTC)