Post by Deleted on Oct 31, 2016 18:55:31 GMT -6
T H A M E S
The day had been a hard one. They always were. The air at the water's edge was cool, salty on his tongue and unkind to his eyes, the waves slicking his paws where he lay in the damp sand. He flexed his toes as the water lapped once more as his feet, but otherwise did not move except to breathe, ribs hauled up apparently by sheer will against a body that did not want to draw breath.
Thames was tired.
Only a few days into life in this strange land, and he could feel what little determination he had mustered beginning to wane. His hope of finding lush, open spaces in which to hunt and grow had turned bitter. He had found lush, open spaces: but the earth refused to bow to his needs; instead offering him dry air and prey too quick for him to catch in his poor state. Finding and refusing another predator's abandoned prey had been his first mistake; returning to it days later and ignoring the sour taste of rot on his tongue had been his second. The temporary fullness turned to sickness in his stomach, seemingly a punishment for his own arrogance.
Now illness plagued him as well as injury; the ache in his bones flaring against the cold touch of seawater. His body, though largely unharmed, strained over the terrain of his spine, dragging across his bones with each movement he brought himself to make. His face, lolling into the waterlogged sand at the water's edge, was torn and barely healed. A perpetual flash of teeth and flesh, a knot of angry tissue partially fusing one eye. Failure at the hands of his own weakness had never once entered the young wolf's mind, and even now he could not fully grasp the severity of his situation. A seabird screamed from somewhere overhead, and his gaze rocked skywards to watch it circle overhead in the evening sky.
Thames grunted angrily to himself, and tried to bring a hind leg beneath himself, claws raking through the sand and offering him little purchase. He would not lay here and wait for the birds to pluck his organs from him.
Ears flat with effort, slipping slightly into the water as he struggled to stand, the wolf hauled himself onto his forelegs, wavering slightly with a wave of sick dizziness that struck him at the movement. The horizon tipped uncomfortably for a moment, the wolf's head weaving as he struggled to focus, pushing away the sting of bile in his throat. Managing to heft his body fully upright, Thames coughed out a hysterical laugh, injured leg trembling faintly with a strain it was not prepared to carry. He wouldn't die here. He was certain of it.
Turning away from the shore, damp and crusted with sand, Thames headed towards the relative cover of a tangled sprawl of brush a dozen paces away, closer to the place where earth met sand. After only a few steps, his hind leg collapsed under him, becoming a useless weight to be dragged though the sand. Breathing ragged, Thames nevertheless grinned to himself, pride growing larger with each step he took, certain that he had outsmarted death, escaped its clutches through his own power alone. Though he ached from hunger and sickness, though his very limbs were failing, he believed wholeheartedly that he would survive and thrive.
Unfortunately, it was very possible that nature would prove him fatally wrong.
Thames // bio
open to anything!!