A Different Breed of Storm
05-21-2013, 04:15 PM
![[Image: gargie_recokoning_by_kidrylm_writer-d63xnxj.png]](http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/123/0/d/gargie_recokoning_by_kidrylm_writer-d63xnxj.png) ~*~ The sun was setting low under the dark, thickening brow of an angered indigo night. The autumn winds whispered of a coming storm. They tore at Gargoyle's fur with a fury, and whispered sharp secrets in the tatters of his ears. For a moment only those dead yellow eyes took in the sight of the red sunset. The great orb sunk in a glory of rubies and golds, like the flames of a viking's funeral pyre. But the blood red hues were surrending to a bruise colored night. A night unlit by moon or stars. As the gloom gathered, the yellow eyes of the wandering lupine began to glow brighter and brighter - still without any sign of emotion. Yet behind that icy levy, dwellt all the punt up impacientence and righteous anger of one of the knights of old.... or perhaps one of the demons. Sometimes the line blurred. A breath rumbled out of the monster's chest, sounding more like a growl than a sigh. As if in echo, thunder boomed away in some distant corner of the sky. The wind shrieked through the rocker crevices of the usually beautiful bay. And yet the male did not turn back. If anything, the storm lent speed to his search. He had to cover more ground before the rains came in to wash away scents and trails. He had to. Gargoyle, the Chief of Glaciem, was once more on the hunt of the one who had stolen the life of his kin. In truth, the great Timber cross was always a sight to be feared. At 41 inches of pure bone and muscles and scars, he was a daughnting sight, even on his good days, but at times like this, when he had murder on his mind... he exuded danger. He was death itself taken living form. And yet even so, he was a mere shadow of the terror that he once was. Of what.... of what he could never let himself become again. Lightning crackled up above, painting the sands and stone in sudden wash of white. The clouds above were swollen with rain, but as of yet they didn't let loose their burden. The wind, however, was already torrenial - down below Gargoyle's paws the waves were being whipped into a fury - attempting to climb higher and higher along the beach. Gargoyle was lucky that he'd chosen the higher, greener path along the ridge of the stone cliffs and sea-arches. Or so he'd thought, for fate was yet to play her hand. Another crash of lightening - and a sudden shifting of stone! Gargoyle felt himself loosing ground. Gravity grabbed at his heart. He was falling! A snarl imprinted on his face a second before he crashed with a heavy, wet SMACK! upon a ledge of stone about halfway between the cliff top and the flooding beaches below. Unconscious he lay there as the sun finally finished drowning itself, and the night storm took over the land. |