Post by Dreamthief on Jun 26, 2011 14:04:02 GMT -5
The stench of melting tar was the first sign. Then the screech of mechanical monsters in the distance. Then the later lights that lit up the stone river even as the sympathetic dusk fell across the scorched earth at the edge of the forest. Yes, Thief was home.
Well, not home really. As always, the forest was empty. Sparkspirit and Echostar were long gone. ShadowClan would never be the same. Never.
Thief stopped for a moment to sit down. He knew he could not linger for long, for even though night was falling, the air was still thick with the sun's heat, and the monsters still prowled their river, but he needed to stop. His leg was bothering him again.
Or leglessness, more correctly.
When thief was perhaps one a half moons old, he was separated from his mother. Though he remembers that she had a dark face like him and can faintly smell her in his dreams some nights, he remembers nothing else; not how they were separated, not her name, not even his own. No, as far as he remembers, his life began with the garbage truck. He was taking refuge in a trash can when suddenly it was lifted into the sky and overturned over a huge pit with teeth. The teeth began to close and Thief knew he must escape. Though he was a small and uncoordinated kit, he managed to pull himself free. Well, all but his hind leg. He had limped to the edge of the forest and climbed in a tree to die when Sparkspirit discovered him. She brought him to ShadowClan and ShadowClan saved him.
Now, ShadowClan was not the same. He could not go back. But he had to go back to the forest. Living in solitude, he had learned much about himself, about the earth, about StarClan. But he had sorely missed his home. And now he had returned.
Hoisting his tired body up, he hobbled towards the asphalt, knowing he had to cross the monsters' path before he could return home. But above the twisted smells of gravel and tar and oil rose a familiar scent wafting from the forest...
Well, not home really. As always, the forest was empty. Sparkspirit and Echostar were long gone. ShadowClan would never be the same. Never.
Thief stopped for a moment to sit down. He knew he could not linger for long, for even though night was falling, the air was still thick with the sun's heat, and the monsters still prowled their river, but he needed to stop. His leg was bothering him again.
Or leglessness, more correctly.
When thief was perhaps one a half moons old, he was separated from his mother. Though he remembers that she had a dark face like him and can faintly smell her in his dreams some nights, he remembers nothing else; not how they were separated, not her name, not even his own. No, as far as he remembers, his life began with the garbage truck. He was taking refuge in a trash can when suddenly it was lifted into the sky and overturned over a huge pit with teeth. The teeth began to close and Thief knew he must escape. Though he was a small and uncoordinated kit, he managed to pull himself free. Well, all but his hind leg. He had limped to the edge of the forest and climbed in a tree to die when Sparkspirit discovered him. She brought him to ShadowClan and ShadowClan saved him.
Now, ShadowClan was not the same. He could not go back. But he had to go back to the forest. Living in solitude, he had learned much about himself, about the earth, about StarClan. But he had sorely missed his home. And now he had returned.
Hoisting his tired body up, he hobbled towards the asphalt, knowing he had to cross the monsters' path before he could return home. But above the twisted smells of gravel and tar and oil rose a familiar scent wafting from the forest...
