Post by Kindred Blue on May 12, 2006 13:45:49 GMT -5
Indeedy.. I wanna post my story here, to see what you guys think of it C: I know Pink will be happy about this one, being one of the Malaysia-fanatics of the world XD <3
Feel free to point out any spelling or grammar mistakes (but I'm near enough sure its pretty much fine so far).
Anyways, do let me know what you think. Would you read more? Would you even buy it if it was published? Which character do like best, and why? What are you expecting from this story? What strikes you as the best aspect so far about this novel? What are your views on the point of view from which the tale is told? n_n
Also, I'm considering working on making it into an animated movie C: Would you be interested to see plans for this, or even interested in helping in some way?
So here wo go. I'd adore it if you could answer my questions after you've read it C:
... F A T A L I T Y ...
All characters and concepts (c) Kindred Blue. Text (c) Kindred Blue.
All characters and concepts (c) Kindred Blue. Text (c) Kindred Blue.
Prologue[/u]
A strange thing to bring up at this moment in time, but take a moment or two just to think about art. Art is - and always has been - an important part of this barren land. But could you imagine if this land was but a painting? Slaved over, every little detail perfected and pristine, a painting so real one can live inside it. So real that the artist can almost see us moving.
But what a stroke of luck for the artist - once created, that world is its own, and no worry of his. He does not have to endure the pains, the toils, inside his masterpiece. We, the wolves of today, do.
By far the greatest painting an artist could complete was the beast they dubbed Malaysia. Such a coat colour was clearly a difficult one to obtain, making this particular wolfess one of a kind. A league of her own. She alone carried the colour of dried blood upon her back – her hue acting like the bright skin of a poisonous snake – a dark yet clear warning to passers by that she was dangerous.
I have spoken of her as though she were but a painting, a picture upon a canvas; but nothing could be further from the truth. This beast of bloodthirsty nature and pride was flesh and blood. I should know. I was, after all, the first one she slaughtered.
Chapter One[/u]
Many stories of darkness begin on a rainy night – sorry to say that this shall be no different from those. Tonight the rain splashed down, like a thudding chorus line of the elements, its drip drop drip a noise that could bore one to insanity. Darkness engulfed the terrain. Barely anything could be seen; at long distance, a wolf was blind in these conditions. Unluckily for me I was too late to spot those red eyes glimmering in the shadows.
All at once, she was upon me, knocking me to the ground like a simple skittle. A menacing growl rumbled from the depths of her throat as she stood over me, expression fixed in fury. It was not the drip drop drip of the rain that now held my attention; but the drip drop drip of her saliva, oozing onto my matted fur.
“And so the prophecy comes true, father.” Growling vocals rippled through the airwaves, as she glared into my eyes one last time, before reaching down and clasping her jaws around my throat. Jerking her head roughly, she tugged at my flesh. With a stomach churning rip, it gave way. For but a moment – for but a second – I was proud I had raised such a fighter. Yet worried what terrors she would unleash on the world. Those were my last thoughts. And my last sight? Those red eyes, glinting with malice. And the ugly smirk upon her face.
That’s when it blacked out.
But I did not die, not truly. At times, I deeply wish I had; for then I would not have had to watch the rest of my pack being torn apart, wolf by wolf. Malaysia was cunning, she was smart, and she was deadly fast. Before being spotted, she had tasted the blood of over 30 of our pack in just one never ending night. A night the survivors of the massacre came to know as the Night of Despair – annually they would return to the scene and mourn for the lost souls, a ritual that would continue only until the last wolf of the pack died.
It was true our group had been a large one, but we were secretive. We kept ourselves to ourselves, and accepted no intruders. All passers by were slaughtered on the spot, to protect the identity of our pack, to hide its actual existence. No other pack in the vicinity, whether near or far, knew we lived. One could almost call us the ghosts of the forest – tales were told of us, but never were we seen. Now, nobody but Malaysia and the remaining survivors know that our pack was ever there.
After my murder, and after watching the rest of my pack perish, I hoped my spirit would move on to the Afterlife promised to all wolves, but still I lingered upon the land. With no purpose and no reason to be there – or at least, no purpose or reason I could see – I chose to follow my daughter, and watch her. Keep an eye on her. I knew that she would hate me to keep an eye on her, but as I have explained, there was nothing else for me to do. I thought, perhaps, if I followed her, I would be able to do something. What the something was, I still do not know. But there was something.
Thus, the story begins; I trail along above her, silent as stars, whilst she carelessly races through the forest. The earth beneath her strong paws is cold, yet soft, and with each lope of her run, her claws unearth more and more soil. She knows full well the trail she is leaving behind her; I can see this as I spot the male chasing after her, and the twinkle of malice in her eyes.
Then she is gone. The brute following her skids to a halt, growling and snarling, gazing around with narrowed eyes, straining his senses to find her. He grunts heavily, and parts his jaws to bark sharply, words flowing freely afterwards.
“I know you’re there, Malaysia. Come out and face your fears.”
A short laugh answered his words, the harsh sound reverberating from every tree, and leaving the male with no more knowledge as to where she hid. I moved softly forward, gazing through the natural giants to gain a sight of my kin.
I soon spot her; she has positioned herself to the left of the male, and as I look back to the brute, I see why. His left eye is torn and bleeding, a wound Malaysia must have inflicted whilst my back was turned. I smile slightly, realising how far she has come, and how well she has chosen to use her intelligence. I am lost in my thoughts for a moment, but then she gives her reply.
“I have nothing to fear, Antonio; it is high time you learnt that.”
Upon the last syllable of her sentence, she tensed her powerful muscles and propelled herself through the air, hitting the male on his side as they both hit the ground with a thud. A scuffle begins upon the forest floor – well, much more than a scuffle. The male is a good fighter, I note, but Malaysia is much better. She dodges most of his swipes, which would usually have been lethal, then lunges for his neck. Now she has him, he is dead, with no chance. I cringe and turn away as she tears out his throat, the memories all too real to me.
When I look back, the brute is lying lifeless upon the ground, and his killer is sitting calmly beside him, licking her maw and her paws clean. It is strange how quickly she can change, how suddenly she can become calm and docile, so that another wolf would not suspect a thing. That would be true, if it weren’t for her reputation. Every where she steps paw, the wolves there have either already heard her name, seen her in their nightmares, and run for the hills; or they do not know her, do not pick her out, but for them it is too late.
There are, of course, times she does not kill. Times she arrives to a pack, gets what she wants, and leaves without harming anyone. It is only when a particularly arrogant male talks back to her that she begins to plot her revenge. That is one of the things most people soon figure out about my daughter – she despises males, and everything they stand for. Particularly alpha males. I do pity any poor alpha that unwittingly crosses her path, not seeing the intense danger they are in.
But I have little time to ponder; after one last smirk at the dead wolf, Malaysia is on the move once more. Again I follow her, having very little else to spend my time doing. We travel long and far, stopping only a few times, as Malaysia preys on passing creatures for a meal, and pauses at rippling streams to quench her thirst. So many miles we cover, and I wonder why she does not tire, where she finds the strength to walk on and on for so many hours.
The hours turn into days. Then the days turn into weeks. Then into months. After two and a half long months, Malaysia and I finally arrived to civilisation. We both felt overwhelmed with the scents that greeted us as we drew near; we must have stumbled upon a large pack. I could not tell if this was what Malaysia had wanted to find, as I watched her move closer to the borders of the strange lands. Her face gave away nothing of her thoughts, perhaps because of the male sentry just ahead.
The wolf patrolling the borders looks her up and down once, circles her several times, and asks her endless trails of questions; but she keeps her cool, and gives him the answers he wishes to hear. Within only a few minutes, she is following him into the pack lands, head held high as she saunters into the new land. I wonder how long this pack will last.
Chapter Two[/u]
The sunlight shines beautifully upon the field, brilliantly red poppies swaying back and forth in the light spring breeze. In the centre of this field sits Malaysia, sniffing the air deeply, and turning around suddenly to greet the wolf who had followed her.
Her stalker was an odd looking one; his main fur colour was a dark black, but a large, contrasting white stripe ran down his back, from between his shoulder blades to the very tip of his tail. Overall, he looked like a giant skunk, really, but this just made him all that much easier to remember. The expression on his face remained calm as he gazed at Malaysia, nodding lightly to her. She looked him up and down, a slight sneer creeping over her features, and her lip began to curl.
“What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me?”
She growled in a low, threatening voice. The male laughed shortly and retorted quickly.
“You heard me didn’t you? So I wasn’t sneaking.”
“You were sneaking,” Malaysia replied shortly. “Just not very well.”
Again, the skunk one laughed and I knew my daughters’ anger would be rising. Don’t push your luck, I think to myself softly. This male is just too innocent to lose his throat at the paws of my dangerous daughter.
“My, you’re a fast one. I saw you arrive this morning. We of the Tristek pack don’t usually get visitors. Malaysia, I believe?”
Malaysia nodded in her reply, clearly not feeling the need to give the brute any clarification. I assumed she sensed he was already sure of her name, and was simply asking so to make slight conversation with her. This was not so much of a good idea, for my daughters temper is short; but she keeps it cool, for her own sake. She and I both knew that one wrong move would have her thrown out, or worse, attacked.
“And you are?”
“Why do you care?”
The hair on the back of Malaysia’s neck prickled as she tensed her muscles, curling her lip up once more and threatening the male with her body language.
“Think before you speak, brute.”
The male appeared to sense the danger, for he chose to give a straight answer this time round.
“My name is Toby.”
I pondered this name to myself, thinking it one rather simple and plain for such an odd wolf, and I could tell by my daughters’ face she was thinking along similar lines. She fixed him with a piercing stare, both wolves locked in eye contact, until the brute turned away, no longer able to hold her gaze. Malaysia allowed a thin smirk to creep silently over her features as she felt satisfaction from this male’s failure. It was true to say my daughter seemed to feel deep pleasure when another turned away from her gaze; she seemed to have pride in the fact that none could keep eye contact with her for more than a minute or so before turning to look away. It seemed that after all, contrary to first impressions, this male was no different from all the others. Turning her back on Toby, Malaysia padded slowly away, to explore further.
We wander together for a while – or at least, she wanders, seemingly alone, and again I follow. I notice these pack lands are large, and flourishing, each area greeting my nose with new smells, greeting my eyes with new sights. One was spectacular – a huge canyon, around 50 feet deep, its floor lined with rocks that winked up at me with deadly points. I knew Malaysia would be keeping an eye on this land; the perfect place to make a murder look like a mere accident.
She continues to walk ahead, and still I trail behind her, seeing the things she sees, watching her reactions to each place she stumbled upon. For every place it was the same; a mild look of interest, an extensive search of the area to grasp its scents, find its hidden secrets, then on the move once more.
It seemed we had been wandering for hours, and it occurred to me that this pack certainly had spread out far, to have ownership over so much land. The odd thing was, I did not spot many other wolves through out the lands, just a watcher here and there. As the sun began to set, the sky a soft, relaxed pink, I decided the pack members must be in the main lands, preparing to rest for the night.
My guesses turned out to be quite accurate. This was plain to me, as Malaysia sauntered into a large, mountainside cave, filled to bursting with wolves. Wolves of every colour, every shape, every size and every age, each watching Malaysia as she moved to the back wall of the cave. Cubs were pulled back into their mother’s grasps, despite their attempts to pounce upon Malaysia’s softly swaying tail, the mothers regarding her with a wary look, an untrusting one. Malaysia seemed to spot these looks, but took little notice of them; she had had her fair share of them in life, a few more were not going to throw her off track.
She seemed to be heading for somewhere, as she continued treading softly through the cave. It was larger than it seemed, and I found myself wondering if it really ever did end. Soon, Malaysia stopped, and inclined her head to another wolf. I peered past my daughter to see the stranger.
He held a coat of pure white; oddly clean for someone who lived in a cave. A striking green colour started out at Malaysia from his eyes, and beneath his right eye, he bore an L-shaped scar, perhaps from a recent battle. As my daughter lifted her head once more, the wolf beside the white one – whom I had not noticed at first – barked a few sharp words.
“My lord, this female arrived at our borders today. She says she wishes to join our ranks.”
The speaker was a wolf of light sandy-brown colouring, with dark brown stockings running up his front legs. Beneath both his eyes, strange triangle like markings stood, and he gazed meaningfully at Malaysia through chocolate brown eyes. The white wolf nodded in reply; clearly the alpha male of the pack. He addressed my daughter directly.
“What is your name, stranger?” He asked softly, in a voice full of kindness, yet laced with authority. My daughter replied in a strangely meek tone.
“My calling is Malaysia, my lord.” She said, the fire that usually burned in her red eyes now temporarily simmering gently, so to speak. The Alpha continued to gaze at her gently for a few moments, before breaking eye contact with her and nodding to the male with the stockings.
“Frisco my friend, take her to sleep beside Marie, tomorrow she will join the hunt.” His gaze flashed back to Malaysia with a fatherly smile; anger rose within my spiritual body upon seeing this. “Should you do well, you will be granted the official rank of huntress.” Upon these words, he turned away to converse with another pack member, who seemingly wished for his advice.
Frisco nodded lightly and started to walk back up the cave, motioning for Malaysia to follow. She did so, as did I, already the surroundings becoming familiar. I glanced at Malaysia’s face; she remained expressionless, somewhat resembling a soldier ready for action. We were led to a place nearer the front of the cave, where a lithe female lay stretched out beside the wall. Her rusted red fur stood out against the dulled grey of the stone cave walls, and upon her back she sported a saddle-like marking. She opened her eyes and blinked once, revealing beautiful baby blue eyes, and her pink nose wrinkled as she took in the scents around her. Pulling up to a sitting position, she dipped her head to Frisco, and then gave Malaysia a questioning glance.
“Milord?” She asked in a gentle voice. “Who is this stranger?” Frisco smiled gently at her, and explained who Malaysia was, and what she had been ordered to do by the Alpha male. Marie nodded, knowing she could not argue with the decisions of the higher ranked wolves, and motioned for Malaysia to lie beside her.
As my daughter circled once to find a suitable place to drop to the ground, I saw Frisco move away. My gaze followed him as he whispered to Deimos – who then excused himself from his companions, and left the cave alongside Frisco, past the guard at the cave mouth who looked somewhat disgruntled. Brimming with curiosity, I followed.
When I caught up with the two, they were wandering though a grassy territory I recognised from earlier on, when Malaysia and I had explored. Frisco looked concerned, and was speaking in a low voice, as though afraid they would be over heard.
“I still think you thought too fast to let her have such a rank, and so soon. Other long term members of our pack would be much better candidates for huntress!” Deimos threw his friend a patronizing glance.
“Frisco, you know full well nobody else wants to take the place – not after the last tragic accident.” This statement both confused and excited me; this pack had secrets to be uncovered… Malaysia would enjoy knowing what they were. Of course, it was somewhat a shame I could not tell her. However, it was plain she would not need my help to figure it all out. Frisco’s somewhat whiny voice interrupted my thought track.
“But to give her the power to kill –“
“To kill prey, game, not other wolves.” Deimos’ hard gaze was outstanding, and told Frisco, without a direct word, that this conversation was over. Looking somewhat beaten, Frisco remained where he stood as Deimos paced away through the long grasses.
I left Frisco where he stood – the male annoyed me somewhat – and instead I followed Deimos’ trail. The Alpha had his head held low, scenting the ground quietly, following the smells beneath his paws. He traced the scent through all the lands, past glittering waterfalls and through the poppy filled fields, along forest paths from which spun different turns and trails that so tempted my inner cub. Though the scenery was so alive, so beautiful, my attention wandered something terrible. The only thing that made me continue was the mere curiosity within my mind, the simple wonders that raced through my system. I felt there was something about the Alpha I needed to know.
A howl pierced the night sky and I started, gazing in awe at the white wolf as he cast his call over his lands. Memories were jolted within me, tales spun through my brain and pictures flashed before my eyes, as though sections of my life had been nothing but a photograph. I remembered how I, just like Deimos, had howled an outstanding howl to remind all around that this land was mine – and mine alone. I missed that feeling, I missed that freedom. To be a ghost, a spirit, was to be left with nothing to protect and no reason to be. It was depressing and lonely. Nevertheless, as I stood watching this king, I heard the truths in his call. He was a kind soul, a good ruler – I saw how each of his pack members respected him.
The ringing call stopped, but still I felt its words within my spiritual body. Then Deimos spoke.
“May Korin give us guidance… This female strikes worry and fear into the hearts of strongest of my wolves.”
Korin. My name. He had spoken my name.
Want more? Thats always good C; I'll give you more if you answer the questions in the text before the story XD
Love! <3
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