COLD! But I'm Still Here!

Cold - Evans Blue





This was it. This was as close as the brute had dared venture toward what had been home so far. What had been done had been done. And now, all that remained was to for Newol to dive into the ashes and try to save those he could. It was with that purpose that he now sprinted through the trees. There was a drive that torn at his chest and a fire that burned into his muscles, and a voice bellowing in the back of his head. He knew the stories. He'd grown up with him. The stories that had followed his family like a curse. Zaraidd. Erani had adopted him, but Newol was still a Zaraidd. He was a hellion of the winter snow and a ruler of the mountain. And Newol specifically, a master of the desert sands. The Zaraidd bloodline didn't die. It couldn't be destroyed or snuffed out. They where survivors. They always had been. It was something that he knew. It was something he could put faith in. Because history had tried many a time.



That was the curse that followed him. That was what plagued his family. Every Zaraidd that was, it seemed, wasn't allowed to live a life that didn't walk paw in paw with disaster. His great grandfather Runner, the should be king that ran away from home to avoid the crown, who suffered greatly for one simple mistake. His grandfather Zaratul, the Great King Of The Mountain. Zaratul had ventured out to see the world with his two siblings. And both died, there deaths in some way the responsibility of the Mad Tyrant of the Forest. Zaratul himself left to wander the world alone. He'd nearly died of a sickness out there too. The young Shadow, who was supposed to have been only a hunter, who'd ended up having to lead an entire pack because of his Alpha's disappearance. These where just some of the stories. But every one of the set it right. Every one of them got out of their hell. Every one of them survived. A tear rolled from the young brown male's eye as he pelted through the trees, that thought hammering at the back of his mind with the flaming orange and pink light of the setting sun flooding the sky above him. A fire burned from his green eyes. The three scars across his snout scrunching together as his lips pulled back in a blood lust of a snarl. Those words kept drumming like a defiant bellow as he ran. At once, they encompassed everything that he held dear. I Will set this right! I will set this RIGHT! I will find my mother, and some how I will find some way to make this all Right Again!



It was in that moment that a spark of clarity washed over him. He at once understood, and this understanding drove him to dig even deeper, and cling even harder to that train of thought, and those few memories. And like a railroad spike, the words kept driving. [I]I have to set it right. I have to! I'll find a way, damnit![\I] And finally, all at once it erupted out of him, coming to a sliding stop, his head rose to the sky as the worlds exploded from his maw. [B]"I Will Set This Right!"[\I] and with a quick inhale of air, a furious bellow sounded the sky from his maw. He finally knew. Newol wasn't a Rogue as he had once thought. Newol wasn't a loner. Newol was a pack wolf. And he had a family. He had a mother. He belonged to somewhere and to someone. He Was Erani's Son!