I Am the Sickness
11-12-2013, 10:55 AM
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Crunch Crunch Crunch He had grown weary eating frogs and snakes, but the swamp had become his home. No pack fostered the ideals he had always lived by, the need for constant carnage and blood of the weak. The screams of tormented souls, the hatred in the eyes of the unfortunates left in his care. No pack held the old laws that he had come to love and be so appreciative of. The laws that defined him. Instead he simply waited in the swamp, lurking with baited breath for the old ways to return so he might find a pack to serve him. A pack with plenty of puppies that might go missing once or twice...or three times and never be seen again. He grinned at the thought from under the skull he wore, a frog's leg sticking out from between his teeth. He waded through the murky water to dry land where he could finish his meager meal in peace. Oh how the mighty had fallen. Once a lieutenant, now feasting on frogs in a swamp of all things. How cruel life could be. He sighed between bites and swallowed his meal, bones and all. Speech, |
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