Post by `` Noon on Jun 11, 2011 19:15:48 GMT -8
-- LIFE && DEATH HAVE A THIN LINE --
Though he called this place, this frozen wasteland, home, Vito loathed it. Though his fur was long and thick enough to keep him warm from the bone chilling frost, he wished for warmer days where he could bask in the sun. Instead he was forced to sleep on snow covered land.
Not to mention there was little food around the area. Though there was the occasional fox or rabbit, there wasn't much to come across. The wind blew hard in this area, sometimes taking snow from the ground with it. No sane animal would want to live here.
Yet Canopus did.
Sometimes he cursed, mentally of course, his Alphas and ancestors for claiming this place. Though he had no major preference of warm sands and snow, the cold got to him after a while. He would have left Canopus for just that fact alone, but what pack would take him in? He was just an rotting sack of a once fine Fighter.
That was his reason, he decided, that he was tart that day. He had taken to laying on his side quite a while ago, looking up at the endless expanse of azure, the beacon of light that was the sun hanging high in the deep blue.
Quite a few times while resting he'd fall asleep, bits and pieces of memory coming to him from his earlier days. They were garbled, out of order, and often felt incorrect to what he remembered. That was what he hated the most of his loss of memory. He could hardly recall what he had done that day. All he knew was his horrid mood, his messy dreams, and the half-eaten bird he had left somewhere. Of course he couldn't remember where he had left it.
That just made his day worse.
Not to mention there was little food around the area. Though there was the occasional fox or rabbit, there wasn't much to come across. The wind blew hard in this area, sometimes taking snow from the ground with it. No sane animal would want to live here.
Yet Canopus did.
Sometimes he cursed, mentally of course, his Alphas and ancestors for claiming this place. Though he had no major preference of warm sands and snow, the cold got to him after a while. He would have left Canopus for just that fact alone, but what pack would take him in? He was just an rotting sack of a once fine Fighter.
That was his reason, he decided, that he was tart that day. He had taken to laying on his side quite a while ago, looking up at the endless expanse of azure, the beacon of light that was the sun hanging high in the deep blue.
Quite a few times while resting he'd fall asleep, bits and pieces of memory coming to him from his earlier days. They were garbled, out of order, and often felt incorrect to what he remembered. That was what he hated the most of his loss of memory. He could hardly recall what he had done that day. All he knew was his horrid mood, his messy dreams, and the half-eaten bird he had left somewhere. Of course he couldn't remember where he had left it.
That just made his day worse.
Words: 304 -- Comments: I love Vito. -- Quality: 8/10