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This is the last bit I have. A new challenger has entered the arena!
No, furries, this won't lead to sex. ...Annnnnnd there went anyone who would potentially keep reading.
The graying old man placed the shredded tabak leaves in his pipe and held it away from his face to study it carefully, trying to make a decision. Making up his mind and eyeing the candle sitting the middle of the table, he gently slid it toward himself. Next, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders drop and his body relax before beginning to mutter a string of words without letting his eyes ever leave the dancing flame.
The tiny ball of fire began to stretch, its edges slowly creeping past the diameter of the candle wax. The oddly foreign words continued to flow as the flame began to reach its limit, and he slowly turned the bowl of the pipe towards the outstretched flame. Once it was positioned properly, he cut his words short. The fire flared and split instantly into two different masses, one of which was still seated peacefully atop the candlewick. The old man ignored the frustrating itch that was building up in his throat and kept his stern eyes focused on the flame that now burned dimly in the air adjacent to its counterpart. Finally, after placing his pipe fully underneath the floating, burning ball, he gingerly leaned forward and began to draw on the end in order to pull the flame through the leaves.
An instant later, he heard the faint sound of snarling coming from somewhere nearby, causing his eyes and thoughts to twitch for a split-second toward the commotion. As a result of this mistake, the flame he had so carefully managed to leave lingering in the air flared up immediately and enveloped his hand and his pipe, causing him to recoil sharply out of the heat.
“Cursed thing!”
The old man hastily stood up and walked briskly to a pail of water, thrusting his hand inside and wincing silently. After examining his rosy red appendage, he retrieved a small box of tinder sticks and returned to the table, determined not to be defeated. He picked up the pipe from where it had been dumped on the floor and proceeded to light it the quick and easy way, only to be disturbed again by the pained sound of snarling and howling from outside of his small quarters. Turning toward the door with a grunt of anger, he begrudgingly set the pipe down, cleared a space in the middle of the room, and closed his eyes.
The Shift occurred slower than he would have liked; a testament to his age. He consoled himself with the fact that there was no rush, thinking that all he would need to do was run off some scrawny, quarreling mutts that were probably passing by. In fact, a smile spread over his lips despite the numbing pain of the change that was occurring. It had been a while since he’d had any real contact, and he began to think it might actually be enjoyable to scare off some vagrants.
Shaking off the last twinges of discomfort and bending over in order to fit inside the small wooden home, he made his way to the door, prepared to make forceful exit. A snarl was poised on his lips as he took a step outside.
The snarl disappeared immediately only to be replaced by a huff of surprise. In front of him stood two individuals, one of which was what he had expected: a mutt. What didn’t make sense was the other body laying on the ground. The young man was covered in blood and pale as a ghost, but the old dog could feel something practically raging around him, something invisible, even from a distance. As an afterthought, he looked up to the black mutt thrashing and swaying about, trying to put out the flames that covered the top half of his body.
Finally recovering his senses, he took a deep breath began to act as quickly as he dared, whispering to himself again before raising his voice and lifting his hand to start focusing more intently on the blazing mutt. The wind in the clearing immediately picked up and began blowing over each individual, helped along by the rising Current encouraged by the old dog’s words.
The scrawny, burning victim hit the ground and began to roll about, unable to extinguish the flames that still burned across his body, and the grey beast began to lose patience with his own efforts to put out the raging flames. The wind just wasn’t strong enough to put out the fire, so he stopped speaking and dropped his hand in frustration, turning instead and running back into the house.
He emerged half a second later carrying the bucket of water and strode over to the wailing fireball.
“Quit your thrashing you worthless Mutt!” he cried.
The words fell on deaf ears and the black mass continued to roll in agony. Taking this as a cue and making sure to avoid the flames, he aimed a well-placed kick into the gut of the new acquaintance which promptly doubled-over and allowed the makeshift, though brutal, healer to dump the bucket of water accurately across his body.
Steam rose in a plume that forced the old dog to step back. Leaving the barely conscious mutt where he lay, he turned around and approached the fully unconscious young man.
“Now where could you have possibly come from?” he muttered under his breath.
Placing a gigantic paw under the boy’s limp body, he gingerly rolled him on his side to check for any injuries other than the blatantly obvious. A quick search was also made to check for teeth marks. If the young man had been chewed on, he might as well just put him out of his misery. Satisfied that he was still breathing, and that the Mutt hadn’t already taken a bite, the old man stood up and gave a frown of disapproval. There was a moment of hesitation, and he wasn’t sure how to continue. The mutt would be fine eventually despite a good many new scars to speak of, but the Pure was a different matter.
“Not that it’s any of my concern.” he mused.
He stood up and pivoted, preparing to head back into the small wooden home that had been carefully constructed for himself, far enough away from the rest of society that he wouldn’t be bothered. Staring at it silently, he desired nothing more than to ignore the whole situation, but a pang of guilt suddenly sparked inside his head. He thought about how things would turn out should he leave the boy and the Mutt outside. If the charred lump of flesh and fur was hungry now, he would be ravenous when he woke up, considering all of the healing his body would force him through.
Giving an exasperated sigh, the hesitant savior turned around and easily lifted the boy into his arms, making sure to steady the dislocated shoulder as much as possible and to avoid the gashes strewn across his back.
….
The young man was laid out in the middle of the floor on a bed of blankets, a large tourniquet wrapped around his torso with his dislocated arm laying at strange angle beside him.
“Why in hell have I gotta deal with this?”
The old man sat smoking and staring at the boy from across the room. The change back had been stressful due to the energy he had already spent pulling up Current to put out the flaming body, and he was taking heavy pulls on the homemade wooden pipe to relieve the stress. The chair that he was seated in had been moved to create room for the victim’s makeshift cot, and, in addition, a table and one more chair had been moved outside the door of the small house that had only been built with one individual in mind. The square building only held a handful of necessary items such as a bed, a small sturdy pit for cooking and a few homemade items, and the boy hadn’t been placed in the bed in order to avoid any pools of blood that might accumulate. The old man had decided he’d force the boy to wash the blankets he was currently situated on if he ever woke up.
In an effort to take his mind off the motionless lump in his floor, the old man turned his attention to the charred lump he had left outside. Fortunately, there just wasn’t enough room in the building to bring in a permanently shifted Mutt, especially when his previous meal was laid out helpless on the floor. That could get far too messy.
Rook lay where he had been left, underneath a tree in plain view from the building, but, in all fairness, he wasn’t completely motionless. He was moving slightly and groaning from the burns that covered his body, so the old man took a mental note that he was still alive, which meant only two things. First, he was in the painful process of healing which would take some time, and second, he would have to eventually be forced away once he was able to move. The silent observer decided it would be best to prepare for that.
Taking one more glance at the boy, he stood up and begrudgingly grabbed the large bucket of water that he had refilled after using it to put out the fiery mutt. With an angry scowl, he walked it outside to the annoying intruder to help him not once, but twice, and was greeted with barely open eyes and heavy breathing.
“Please, Bear,” it rasped, “please don’ kill me.”
The black Mutt took a few more difficult breaths, then his nose twitched and his eyes widened with surprise. That is to say, they opened as much as the burns would allow.
“You ‘ent… who are ya?”
The old man stood over Rook and dropped the bucket to the ground.
“I’m the one who’s going to kill you should you stay here any longer than necessary. Once you can move, drink the water. Once you can crawl, you leave. If that takes more than a day, you’re out of luck.” he spat.
Rook closed his eyes in relief and didn’t bother to nod. He couldn’t.
“Gon’. By sunset.”
“You better hope so.” said the old man.
With that, he turned and headed back the house. The Mutt wouldn’t be healed enough to make a move before nightfall, but at least now he understood the situation. The water would help aid in the process as well. If only he had known how to bend the Current to heal. The process was too difficult for him to have mastered on his own and even still it was a process only reserved for the most experienced. It was incredibly painful in ways that healing on one’s own couldn’t compare, and it would teach the Mutt to stay away while providing him the option to do so quickly. Lamenting his inability to cause the troublesome furball more pain, the old man opened the door to his home and found the boy wide-eyed and clutching his bum arm.
“You’re awake.” he exclaimed.
The young man swiveled immediately and winced in pain, swaying slowly and looking like he was about to pass out again. The older gentleman decided that wasn’t a good idea and strode quickly over to the boy.
“Stay awhay!” mumbled the boy.
“I’m trying to help, boy. Don’t move.”
He put an arm on the young man’s back and grabbed a cup of water he had left nearby in preparation. He lifted it to the young man’s lips.
“Drink this or I’ll knock you out again so I don’t have to deal with you.”
The boy eyed him suspiciously, but eventually caved to the threat (or more likely the water) and drank greedily. When he couldn’t handle any more, he turned to look at the graying old man.
“Is this your home?” he asked, still groggy.
“Yes.”
“Is there...” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking slightly, “…anyone else here?”
“No.”
“Who are...”
“Son, I hate to interrupt your little inquisition, but we should reset that shoulder now instead of later. It’s already swollen pretty good, but I’m no expert or anything.”
The young man clutched his arm even tighter as the makeshift doctor moved over to examine it. He grabbed the boy by the elbow gingerly and began to move and inspect it while continuing the conversation.
“Where did you come from, boy?”
“I don’t know.” he replied.
The old man scowled. “Well you had to come from somewhere. Where were you born?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember? Did that Mutt knock your brain loose?” He decided to avoid asking about the boy’s peculiar use of the Current until he was more lucid.
“…Mutt?” questioned the young man.
The old dog shot an incredulous look at the boy and mumbled something to himself before asking one more question.
“What’s your name? Please tell me you have a name.”
The boy thought about it for a moment and then replied, “I guess… I guess its Bear.”
With that, bone crunched back into place and the old man had to hold the boy up as he went rigid with pain and promptly passed out again. He laid the unconscious young man out on his bed of blankets and stood up, whispering to no one in particular.
“Bear, huh? My name’s Jebediah.”
No, furries, this won't lead to sex. ...Annnnnnd there went anyone who would potentially keep reading.
The graying old man placed the shredded tabak leaves in his pipe and held it away from his face to study it carefully, trying to make a decision. Making up his mind and eyeing the candle sitting the middle of the table, he gently slid it toward himself. Next, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders drop and his body relax before beginning to mutter a string of words without letting his eyes ever leave the dancing flame.
The tiny ball of fire began to stretch, its edges slowly creeping past the diameter of the candle wax. The oddly foreign words continued to flow as the flame began to reach its limit, and he slowly turned the bowl of the pipe towards the outstretched flame. Once it was positioned properly, he cut his words short. The fire flared and split instantly into two different masses, one of which was still seated peacefully atop the candlewick. The old man ignored the frustrating itch that was building up in his throat and kept his stern eyes focused on the flame that now burned dimly in the air adjacent to its counterpart. Finally, after placing his pipe fully underneath the floating, burning ball, he gingerly leaned forward and began to draw on the end in order to pull the flame through the leaves.
An instant later, he heard the faint sound of snarling coming from somewhere nearby, causing his eyes and thoughts to twitch for a split-second toward the commotion. As a result of this mistake, the flame he had so carefully managed to leave lingering in the air flared up immediately and enveloped his hand and his pipe, causing him to recoil sharply out of the heat.
“Cursed thing!”
The old man hastily stood up and walked briskly to a pail of water, thrusting his hand inside and wincing silently. After examining his rosy red appendage, he retrieved a small box of tinder sticks and returned to the table, determined not to be defeated. He picked up the pipe from where it had been dumped on the floor and proceeded to light it the quick and easy way, only to be disturbed again by the pained sound of snarling and howling from outside of his small quarters. Turning toward the door with a grunt of anger, he begrudgingly set the pipe down, cleared a space in the middle of the room, and closed his eyes.
The Shift occurred slower than he would have liked; a testament to his age. He consoled himself with the fact that there was no rush, thinking that all he would need to do was run off some scrawny, quarreling mutts that were probably passing by. In fact, a smile spread over his lips despite the numbing pain of the change that was occurring. It had been a while since he’d had any real contact, and he began to think it might actually be enjoyable to scare off some vagrants.
Shaking off the last twinges of discomfort and bending over in order to fit inside the small wooden home, he made his way to the door, prepared to make forceful exit. A snarl was poised on his lips as he took a step outside.
The snarl disappeared immediately only to be replaced by a huff of surprise. In front of him stood two individuals, one of which was what he had expected: a mutt. What didn’t make sense was the other body laying on the ground. The young man was covered in blood and pale as a ghost, but the old dog could feel something practically raging around him, something invisible, even from a distance. As an afterthought, he looked up to the black mutt thrashing and swaying about, trying to put out the flames that covered the top half of his body.
Finally recovering his senses, he took a deep breath began to act as quickly as he dared, whispering to himself again before raising his voice and lifting his hand to start focusing more intently on the blazing mutt. The wind in the clearing immediately picked up and began blowing over each individual, helped along by the rising Current encouraged by the old dog’s words.
The scrawny, burning victim hit the ground and began to roll about, unable to extinguish the flames that still burned across his body, and the grey beast began to lose patience with his own efforts to put out the raging flames. The wind just wasn’t strong enough to put out the fire, so he stopped speaking and dropped his hand in frustration, turning instead and running back into the house.
He emerged half a second later carrying the bucket of water and strode over to the wailing fireball.
“Quit your thrashing you worthless Mutt!” he cried.
The words fell on deaf ears and the black mass continued to roll in agony. Taking this as a cue and making sure to avoid the flames, he aimed a well-placed kick into the gut of the new acquaintance which promptly doubled-over and allowed the makeshift, though brutal, healer to dump the bucket of water accurately across his body.
Steam rose in a plume that forced the old dog to step back. Leaving the barely conscious mutt where he lay, he turned around and approached the fully unconscious young man.
“Now where could you have possibly come from?” he muttered under his breath.
Placing a gigantic paw under the boy’s limp body, he gingerly rolled him on his side to check for any injuries other than the blatantly obvious. A quick search was also made to check for teeth marks. If the young man had been chewed on, he might as well just put him out of his misery. Satisfied that he was still breathing, and that the Mutt hadn’t already taken a bite, the old man stood up and gave a frown of disapproval. There was a moment of hesitation, and he wasn’t sure how to continue. The mutt would be fine eventually despite a good many new scars to speak of, but the Pure was a different matter.
“Not that it’s any of my concern.” he mused.
He stood up and pivoted, preparing to head back into the small wooden home that had been carefully constructed for himself, far enough away from the rest of society that he wouldn’t be bothered. Staring at it silently, he desired nothing more than to ignore the whole situation, but a pang of guilt suddenly sparked inside his head. He thought about how things would turn out should he leave the boy and the Mutt outside. If the charred lump of flesh and fur was hungry now, he would be ravenous when he woke up, considering all of the healing his body would force him through.
Giving an exasperated sigh, the hesitant savior turned around and easily lifted the boy into his arms, making sure to steady the dislocated shoulder as much as possible and to avoid the gashes strewn across his back.
….
The young man was laid out in the middle of the floor on a bed of blankets, a large tourniquet wrapped around his torso with his dislocated arm laying at strange angle beside him.
“Why in hell have I gotta deal with this?”
The old man sat smoking and staring at the boy from across the room. The change back had been stressful due to the energy he had already spent pulling up Current to put out the flaming body, and he was taking heavy pulls on the homemade wooden pipe to relieve the stress. The chair that he was seated in had been moved to create room for the victim’s makeshift cot, and, in addition, a table and one more chair had been moved outside the door of the small house that had only been built with one individual in mind. The square building only held a handful of necessary items such as a bed, a small sturdy pit for cooking and a few homemade items, and the boy hadn’t been placed in the bed in order to avoid any pools of blood that might accumulate. The old man had decided he’d force the boy to wash the blankets he was currently situated on if he ever woke up.
In an effort to take his mind off the motionless lump in his floor, the old man turned his attention to the charred lump he had left outside. Fortunately, there just wasn’t enough room in the building to bring in a permanently shifted Mutt, especially when his previous meal was laid out helpless on the floor. That could get far too messy.
Rook lay where he had been left, underneath a tree in plain view from the building, but, in all fairness, he wasn’t completely motionless. He was moving slightly and groaning from the burns that covered his body, so the old man took a mental note that he was still alive, which meant only two things. First, he was in the painful process of healing which would take some time, and second, he would have to eventually be forced away once he was able to move. The silent observer decided it would be best to prepare for that.
Taking one more glance at the boy, he stood up and begrudgingly grabbed the large bucket of water that he had refilled after using it to put out the fiery mutt. With an angry scowl, he walked it outside to the annoying intruder to help him not once, but twice, and was greeted with barely open eyes and heavy breathing.
“Please, Bear,” it rasped, “please don’ kill me.”
The black Mutt took a few more difficult breaths, then his nose twitched and his eyes widened with surprise. That is to say, they opened as much as the burns would allow.
“You ‘ent… who are ya?”
The old man stood over Rook and dropped the bucket to the ground.
“I’m the one who’s going to kill you should you stay here any longer than necessary. Once you can move, drink the water. Once you can crawl, you leave. If that takes more than a day, you’re out of luck.” he spat.
Rook closed his eyes in relief and didn’t bother to nod. He couldn’t.
“Gon’. By sunset.”
“You better hope so.” said the old man.
With that, he turned and headed back the house. The Mutt wouldn’t be healed enough to make a move before nightfall, but at least now he understood the situation. The water would help aid in the process as well. If only he had known how to bend the Current to heal. The process was too difficult for him to have mastered on his own and even still it was a process only reserved for the most experienced. It was incredibly painful in ways that healing on one’s own couldn’t compare, and it would teach the Mutt to stay away while providing him the option to do so quickly. Lamenting his inability to cause the troublesome furball more pain, the old man opened the door to his home and found the boy wide-eyed and clutching his bum arm.
“You’re awake.” he exclaimed.
The young man swiveled immediately and winced in pain, swaying slowly and looking like he was about to pass out again. The older gentleman decided that wasn’t a good idea and strode quickly over to the boy.
“Stay awhay!” mumbled the boy.
“I’m trying to help, boy. Don’t move.”
He put an arm on the young man’s back and grabbed a cup of water he had left nearby in preparation. He lifted it to the young man’s lips.
“Drink this or I’ll knock you out again so I don’t have to deal with you.”
The boy eyed him suspiciously, but eventually caved to the threat (or more likely the water) and drank greedily. When he couldn’t handle any more, he turned to look at the graying old man.
“Is this your home?” he asked, still groggy.
“Yes.”
“Is there...” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking slightly, “…anyone else here?”
“No.”
“Who are...”
“Son, I hate to interrupt your little inquisition, but we should reset that shoulder now instead of later. It’s already swollen pretty good, but I’m no expert or anything.”
The young man clutched his arm even tighter as the makeshift doctor moved over to examine it. He grabbed the boy by the elbow gingerly and began to move and inspect it while continuing the conversation.
“Where did you come from, boy?”
“I don’t know.” he replied.
The old man scowled. “Well you had to come from somewhere. Where were you born?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember? Did that Mutt knock your brain loose?” He decided to avoid asking about the boy’s peculiar use of the Current until he was more lucid.
“…Mutt?” questioned the young man.
The old dog shot an incredulous look at the boy and mumbled something to himself before asking one more question.
“What’s your name? Please tell me you have a name.”
The boy thought about it for a moment and then replied, “I guess… I guess its Bear.”
With that, bone crunched back into place and the old man had to hold the boy up as he went rigid with pain and promptly passed out again. He laid the unconscious young man out on his bed of blankets and stood up, whispering to no one in particular.
“Bear, huh? My name’s Jebediah.”
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Wolf
Size 120 x 113px
File Size 19.5 kB
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