Fall into the depths of my arms

. . .


Collecting the scattered remains of his family was never easy. Cross was not the sort to whimper on and on about his feelings. He wasn?t as cuddly and open and bouncy as he once was. Any shreds of the pup in him was gone. He had had to grow up fast in a world that, quite frankly, scared him half to death. But he?d never complained. With the birth of Mercianne?s litter, and of Ocena?s, Cross had received more family, more charges, more wolves who knew nothing of the darkness the world contained. It made them more vunerable, certainly, but it meant that they wouldn?t spend their first seasons unable to sleep ? quivering in silence at every sound and movement until pure, painful exhaustion took over and they passed out. No one deserved a childhood flecked with those sort of memories.

Cross showed a grimace of a growl as he walked on. He didn?t like thinking about the past. The only thing that kept him sane and unsoiled was the simple mantra that echoed through his head keep moving forward. Keep moving forward. His ever moving paws provided a drumbeat to say it to. He had already lost a lot in his life, but so what? It set him up for reality. He was going to lose a lot more. All he had was the moment and those that he was lucky enough to still have around him.

He didn?t know it, but the way his face set and eyes shone when he thought such things was so akin to that of his mother?s that it could?ve made a body believe in reincarnation. A fitting observation, for today seemed to have a theme of history's curse to repeat itself.

Cross caught along to a fresher strain of Kairos's scent. Along with that of two other wolves. And worse - blood. The twistings and knottings of a snarl suddenly imprinted the bridge of the boy's nose. In a heart beat his black paws were tearing up the ground. Coming upon the scene though, his eyes widened from slits back into their normal almond shape - for Cross, the equivlent of his jaw hitting the floor. What in heaven's name had his cousin gotten himself into this time? Two giants - both large enough to rival Gargoyle's size - were standing before the black youth. Cross was a quick one for observation, and couldn't help but notice the wound on the grey fae's neck... and the blood on the tip of Kairos's muzzle.

"--But you are old enough to be claimed. For speaking to my mate I challenge you to a fight for your freedom"

Had Cross entered upon the scene at any other point, he probably would've been willing to beat the kid up himself. But the way things were shaping up now didn't look good. Whatever Kairos had done - the grey lady seemed, surprisingly, unattached. She had a decent looking cut on her neck, but she didn't look threatened or frightened (in fact size wise she could've crushed Kairos herself) if anything she looked uncertain and perhaps even a bit irritated with the brown one.

Cross also heard the rather cocksure reply of his cousin. He prayed the first part was truly as sarcastic as it sounded - but he approved of the second. Left without a real option to run, he was facing whatever fate brought him. -- Well he wouldn't be facing it alone.

With head hung low in a prowler's pose and tail dragging limply behind him, a steady, firm step but Cross into the scene. He came in near Kairos's left, but was quickly angling to put himself in a better position to face the possible onslaught. His growl was low and simple - a little too low too bland for a yearling: "No ones allowed to beat Kai up but me." Kairos had jumped foolishly into danger for Cross's sake once; It was high time the alabaster youth return the favor. If this brown stranger insisted on a fight, he'd be facing two wolves. Neither of the youngsters was anywhere near a full warrior - but they both had a warrior's inheritance, and Cross had had the priveledge of traveling all up and down Ala. He'd swum channels, paced a desert, fought a bull, and even visited the Battlefield. Whatever he was, it sure as he-- wasn't green. And besides, the boys didn't have to take hte other one down - just give him enough trouble to slow him down and then get out.

But Cross, no matter how hard-wired his mind might've been towards fighting, didn't see it as the only option. He looked to the grey lady. He saw those eyes. A suspicion was growing in his mind that he knew who she was. "Ma'am, I apologize for whatever my cousin may have done, but, there is no need for further bloodshed or pain. Kairos might be a rogue but he was strong wolves who care about him; There's no need for any enemies to be made today." As the male spoke to the one wolf, he kept his ears trained upon the other - knowing that the main threat was there. The brown creature could chose to strike at any time, but if it came to that Cross was ready - with paws spread and head low - ears back and shoulder's stiffened to protect his neck; None of it was anything new that he'd adopted since coming into the arena. It was simply his way of carrying himself. Cross was born with the instincts to fight and kill, but unlike some, he could control them.


(ooc: yeah, Cross is assuming Zara is a guy)



. . .