Chased
06-14-2013, 04:29 PM
'Too late'. The words might as well have been carved into the frozen earth. What was left of the mother wolf was bleeding out and dying before their eyes. Gargoyle had guessed as much. He was too much of a vetran to get his hopes up about survivors, but he silently added another tally mark to the role of that rogue's crimes. The beat of his paws had stopped when they'd comes to the she-wolf's side. His shoulders didn't tense and shake, his nose didn't wrinkle, his muzzle didn't show a snarl - there was no giving in to the usual displays of anger that any pup could preform - there were only his eyes being licked with hellfire. His ears caught the labored breathing of the child's mother. He knew enough about death and dying to know that, if done right, terrible, agonizing wounds could be inflicted, but if done just so, they could keep the victim in pain for hours upon hours before death finally took what was left of their souls. For a moment, the Chief's heart was made heavy with the idea that he would need to put the poor creature out of her misery - but then he heard the tell tale death rattle. Her last breath. She was gone. Gargoyle remained standing silent and stoney as the little pup called to her dam. Creator Above... how many times had he seen this scene? And others just like it? How many...many times... Back then he had been the one to do the blood letting, and if he was still there, watching the scene unfold it meant that the mourners were likely dogeared for death as well. But that had been through different eyes, peering out of a different soul. And yet they were still his memories. It made things so unreal, so hard to know what it was he ought to be feeling - guilt? pity? anger? sorrow?. In the depths of his chest he felt bits of them all. But they were swallowed down - replaced by an anger that was filled with a fatal patience. "Capir," rumbled Gargoyle. He'd seen the male move silently towards the scent trail - a good move on his part. But there was a child to consider. To leave her there would be to leave her helpless, and to bring her along, aside from putting her in the line of fire, would only serve to slow down tracking. One of them had to stay with the girl. It was the Chief's decision to make, and he made it: "Go," he rumbled to the ghost brave. "The rouge known as 'Sixx' has already committed crimes against Glaciem and been warned that his head is ours when it's next scene. If you see him, kill him." He trusted his brave to get things done. Meanwhile, he'd attend to the child... and to burrying the mother. As for words... he had none. Not yet anyway. His tongue turned to lead whenever his eyes glanced upon the weeping form. All he could do was turn and start tearing up the frostbitten topsoil with his oversized claws. |
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