There Is A Train That's Heading Straight

Wolf Like Me - TV on the Radio

BIC:: It was late. The sun long gone and having given way to mother moon. Her position now high and proud in the night sky. And despite the hour, the wolf could not find any sleep for himself. No. Obito was too excited by all this new stimuli that he was surrounded by. Alacritis was beautiful. It was expansive. Stretching on for miles and miles. He needed to move. He need to keep his pulse up, to feel the energy in his veins. Body low to the ground, ears up on end. Leading with his nose, every pawstep was slow, calculated. Testing the ground under paw before placing any weight out it. He stalked his way through the trees with alert eyes, scanning his surroundings constantly. Taking note of every rock, every gnarled looking tree. Every flower. Mapping. Learning. Becoming one with the forest as he hid in the shadows. A figure unseen. Once upon a time, the boy had been trained as an out flanker. Part of why he was so fast. That speed was needed for the role.

It was an aggressive position. Your role was to understand the world around you. In hunting formations you where the killing paw. Breaking off from the main body and moving to cut off and intercept prey as it was directed to you. In times of war, you where the bullet in the dark. Out run, out maneuver, and out smart your enemy. At home in an environment foreign to them. But Obito had no experience with that. His mother, yes. But he was too young and had been afforded a very pleasant upbringing. Maybe one day he'd get a taste of battle. Maybe he'd like it too. The boy would be a liar if he said the concept of glory didn't appeal to him. To have others that knew his name and whispered stories about him. He have songs sung about his grand achievements well after he was dead and gone. Part of his somewhat tribal upbringing. The Folami was an old family. Originally demons spawned by monsters. Blood letting and carnage. They had a knack for it. The boy could still remember the primal sensations that washed over him when he'd reached into the gut of his first deer. The warmth of the blood on his muzzle and front legs as he ripped out it's heart and consumed it.

It was a life changing experience. Meat pulling away from bone, hide peeling away from flesh. Such was the legacy of a Folami. And the hunger. Obito had never had the pleasure of eating a feline. Not yet. But he wanted to. It was a programmed behavior. A deep seated hatred that had no meaning, reason, or cause. His ancestors had battled against lions and tigers. He doubted he would be so lucky. But oh how his mouth watered at the thought of tearing a cougar or panther's throat away and letting them die before him. It was a prenatal addiction. And one that he would never apologize for.

The trees would give way to a clearing, a gorgeous pond unfolding before him. Rising back to his full height, he would look around at the drooping trees, the willows all around him. Stepping up to the water's edge, he would look down at this own reflection. It had been awhile sense he'd last looked himself over. The two scars on the left side of his maw, the missing half of his left ear. Closing his eyes, he would lower his snout to the water to lap at it's cool surface. Once finished satisfying this thirst, he would lower himself to his rump. Tail waving back and forth softly behind him, he looked around, a silent, calm expression on his face. This land was old. It was bloodstained. It had a story to tell, he could feel it in his bones. He wanted to know what happened here. This place particularly. There was anger. Old anger that festered here. It scent a chill down his spin as his head turned. He would have rose his maw to the sky and sang a song, but at the moment, he dare not break the silence. Letting the ghosts whisper to one another in the shadows. Emotions so strong that their imprints still lingered in the mortal world. It was breath taking.