MaximumRide
12-15-2010, 12:23 AM
:Angel_anim: and so the dreams begin starting with...
��Alone in the world was SoftPelt, a fox cub lacking a home or companionship.
Even as he walked, terror elevated crookedly through his being, mind, and soul.
Desperately the poor cub tried not to step on the dry brittle leaves or the dead crumbling twigs, and not to make a single sound to alert the poacher of his existence. Unfortunately he was apparently not skilled enough to achieve this difficult task, for at the very moment he presumed victory; escape, he was lifted slowly through the air by a set of dull, but precise, jaws.” Who are you?” he whispered questioningly. “I am your savior for now, so don’t let me out of your mind, sight, or reach,” she replied quietly.
SoftPelt was awake merely half the long, tiring distance of the journey to where ever they were heading for, but when they got to their beautifully crafted destination he was wide awake, asking questions like; who, where, why and gained information like; I am LionFox, you are at camp Ophorio, and because you were orphaned.
The camp was in a crevice with anciently carved stairways leading to the hill ranges protruding outward maybe three hills. There were oak and elm trees all throughout the small canyon. Inside this safe haven there were dens scattered all along the edges.
SoftPelt was happy here, but still shy, confused, depressed, and maddened by the poacher and the thought of his triumph at reaping his parentage’s soul for her substantial being.
.
Isn’t it tragic for the climax of a young cub’s life to come so soon and have a high-towering arch haunt his life for the rest of his personal eternity?
“Lionfox, when will we hunt?”
“Soon enough young one,” she replied calmly.
One
It had been nearly a month of solid combat training in the golden-brown dirt courtyard, playing in the neon green, lush fields of grasses and milkweed, and meeting new people like Roanleopard, DeLilac, and Angelcloud. Roanleopard was a medium sized fox with soft, black fur and white underbelly and markings around his strong, delicate paws and forehead. DeLilac was only a cub around Softpelt’s age, she was colored a fiery red with a creamy underbelly and delineated markings. Angelcloud was a dull shade of gray that reminded Softpelt of arctic camouflage. These five foxes became a cohesive family who would readily begin their expedition to the rugged ranges of the Ophorio Mountains. Here the orphaned fox kits hoped for a safe and eventual arrival. The kits each approached the impending journey with mixed emotions. Softpelt was ecstatic that he would have something related in any way to a family and he was willing to mortally defend that bond. DeLilac couldn’t decide whether she was nervous and anxious or grateful and excited, but she had the maturity and perseverance to endure the obstacles ahead. Lionfox, Angelcloud, and Roanleopard, being the more elderly foxes, were determined to become the fierce leaders they were born to be--leading their first travels… leading their first apprentices... and leading their life course. Together they would journey towards what they hoped would become a long stay in paradise.
When the dawn broke that morning, they hunted wild chickens, squirrels, and rabbits, seeking sly simplicity in their movement. The neon colors of the oaks and elms, maples and birch, scattered artistically about the woodlands were most brilliant to Softpelt. The light brown pastels of the trunk and the myriad of green and reddish-brown leaves themselves that so generously produced shade for the passing creatures, and the more permanent animals that dwelled in this area, using it as a habitat. This captivating display of nature was exhilarating and priceless to DeLilac. The way the grass cushioned the pads on Softpelts paws was wonderful, and the layout of the multiple berry bushes and herbs made him feel at home. Today was a day to inhale the surroundings.
According to Angelcloud the only apparent way there was to follow the paths but the more logical path was simply swimming through the lake of life, the birth place and home of many. When angelcloud was younger she came here every month to soak in the water and bathe in the sun. She would always try to catch the fish that swam happily in the currents and they would tease her knowing she wouldn’t ever catch them.
The companions were at shore now sinking their paws into the decently damp sand and calmingly soaking their exhausted paws. The shapes were wading deeply now through the shallow, warm waters. Their feet were starting to elevate above the lake floor. Five canine companions were swimming happily now, feeling the gentle ripple of the sleepy current against their pelts. DeLilac didn’t want to leave. Softpelt was letting himself be pulled along joyfully, regretting the fact that he had to leave. Roanleopard couldn’t bear the peacefulness any longer. It was too perfect for him. Though he did enjoy the tranquility, it was still a bit unnerving to be so happy and calmed at one time. Angelcloud couldn’t get rid of the faint impulse to stay on the lush green grasses with their tulips and herbs brushing lightly on her fur and just doze deeply, enjoying the warm waters and the icy breeze. The aroma of the flowers would sing her to sleep, but she shook that thought away quickly. Lionfox was born here and was terrified of this place for her parent was killed here, by a dreadful poacher with his gun. All the poacher had to do was pull the trigger and her mother was left there with her kit under her front leg sobbing and breathing shallow and quick. While she lies there dying without even the faintest hope of survival the desperate cub sobs into her cold stiff pelt vaguely hoping that her parentage will revive, but knowing that it wont happen; her mother was hopelessly dead. Just being back where she had witnessed such tragedy made her feel like a defenseless kit again.
Now on the brink of the shimmering lake, the five foxes stepped up onto the warm, sun soaked sand and brushed muzzles, congratulating each other cautiously. Their consciousnesses were full of tranquil emptiness and empty tranquilly of filling. The world had a touch of being tragically beautiful and beautifully tragic in the minds of these friends as they realized the cycle of death in this world and the lack of reincarnation. Softpelt sighed, exhausted, but was willing himself endlessly to keep going for the sake of his mother. DeLilac was hoping with everything she possessed that she could stay here, but buried deep inside of her the thought remained that she would have to move on just like many more foxes to come and go. As DeLilac surveyed her surroundings, she steadily realized that nothing was as perfect as it seemed; there were leaves falling off trees and the air held a hue of amber that hung low on the mountains. Pollution was slowing seeping into paradise.
The trees in and near their location were withering from pollution and smoke produced in poacher camp sites.
There were leaves and twigs crumbling wretchedly beneath Softpelts cold aching feet. They would soon to be arriving in the Valleys of Forever where time stood steadily still swaying minimally in the breeze of space and the current of life.
Softpelt was dazed by the scenery ahead of him; captivated by the light and undisturbed murmur of the animals about the timeless place, there were prehistoric plants and vines growing carelessly through out the valley, the deer and antelope played happily together as if they had done so for millions of years, which they probably had, and nothing else mattered to them, the birds sung harmoniously like a million orchestras playing only the most beautiful songs in their possible reach and potential, even the insects flew durably as if the frogs nearby in the pond beside them wouldn’t dream of devouring them, then again this might be true.
Half way through the valley at this point in time, DeLilac heard a poacher’s gun sound not far off, some swearing, and a screech. Its sad how things that beautiful can be that fragile. The eagles screech was sharper than the sharpest blade and as shrill as the most piercing scream and nearly gave Softpelt a heart attack.
They were almost through the valley now. A twin leg without its gun was sitting rite in front of them playing a harp. The twin leg wore bright colors, long wavy hair, tight clothing from waist down, and a weird necklace with a circular charm. It was a female. The twin leg stretched out its upper limb and patted DeLilac on the forehead right in between her ears. The twin leg was changing now. Becoming a vague canine shape, the twin leg changed slowly like a caterpillar in its cocoon. It had become a wolf and the harp an eagle and they were beginning to glide slowly away. Softpelt and DeLilac were the only ones in the family of foxes who had guessed who that was; Ophorio.
The edge of the valley was the end of the picturesque sightings also. In this withering section of the forest the air was damp and warm; the trees drooped like a canvas sealing them in from contact with light. Though it would only last a while it was new and rejected by the family of five.
At a point of the dead tunnels a snake of amazing length and perilous width became visible. Hissing noisily the frightening being spiraled around an antelope and compressed it to smithereens. The foul creature was consuming the bits and pieces of the previously lively slop. Softpelt knew this was just the way of life, but was gallant enough to know that he had to do something about this darkened reptile before it destroyed more than it needed which of what Softpelt could see it already had.
Softpelt could see the snake was obviously deeply troubled so he traveled the weak five feet in between the snake and himself and spoke to it gently not paying much attention to the words but the tone of his voice. The snake began melting away into lights and sounds of many colors and frequencies. In the central point of these lights and noises there was a twin legged child curled up sleeping peacefully on the forest floor. The child had beautiful hazel eyes and slept with them open showing the slit like pupils they contained. He had a dark brown pudding bowl hair style and tan skin. The twin leg was wearing a brown smooth coat with rabbit fur trimmings and a long white tattered tee-shirt with tight jeans around his back legs. The child had awoken now. He was smiling at Softpelt as if Softpelt was his own brother. Some twin legged ones must be kind for this one was definitely one of them. A blinding flash of multi colored light appeared and left and in the twin legs place there was a hawk. The hawk could apparently not stay because at that breath taking, heart warming instant he flew away with a melodic screech. This screech was not a battle cry.
Five canines had come to a beautiful field filled of tall thick and vibrant green grasses with white blossoms invading the landscape. There were elm trees in the middle forming a circle. In the center of the circle a stone stood steadily stopping the stealthy thieves trying treacherously to obtain the treasures and peacefulness inside. All true hearted foxes were welcome but each could leave with only one artifact in their hopefully happily lived lives. To be a true hearted fox you must love love, hate hate, and live life. SoftPelt had definitely had all of these qualities so he was the one to step up to the shrine to Ophorio.
In the shrine there were many things SoftPelt could obtain for himself such as the shadow, a large fruit that could bring his mom back for a day, gold, a ring of invisibility, and much more. Despite the cruelly tempting voices in his head he did not take the shadow, the riches, or even the gift of invisibility, for he knew in his over heating heart, past his head aches, past the wall of pain cast before his whiskers, that he must do what’s right for DeLilac and the pack, not only himself. He grabbed the key buried in the center of treasures and made up his crumbling mind to leave the altar, witch he did thoughtlessly without an ounce of regret.
Outside of the altar the four other friends came over to him watching him collapse soundlessly as he began to cry out and soon all five of them were howling viciously at the moon. Life was cruel. You have to understand he just had to give up the last day he could possibly have with his mom to get some worthless key just so he could get inside of a fort outside of their destination. All that the key could gain for him was to give him a chance to have a meeting with Ophorio. He was depressed.
That night the foxes made very comfortable make shift beds of moss and marsh weeds. They all slept in separate beds besides the exceptional Softpelt who couldn’t sleep there for moved over to huddle snuggly next to DeLilac who wasn’t letting on the fact that she was still awake for around a half an hour after Softpelt moved over, she didn’t think negatively of this though for she was worried for Softpelt’s emotional health. Softpelt was dreamless and for some reason shaking violently in his sleep. DeLilac calmed him down the way her mother did for her before she died, she smoothed his fur with her paw until he was calm enough to make DeLilac think he wasn’t mentally dying anymore.
The sound SoftPelt made when he awoke was deeply related to what you hear when a moose with bronchitis screeches at the top of its lungs when a poacher kills it along with a rabid donkeys happy dance cry. An eagle had swooped down from the sky apparently thinking he was pray and tried top sweep him up into the air for a nice meal, fortunately his… sound… scared it away.
DeLilac and Softpelt didn’t care that every thing was all okay; they walked side by side leaning against one another like they were towers falling in opposite inwards directions keeping each other up clumsily. if foxes could smile Angelcloud’s mouth would be physically impaired right now. They had come to a pathway and
according to the over heated glower in Lionfox’s eyes she was obviously ecstatic.
A twin leg was occupying a patch of dirt in the center of the golden brown dirt pathway. He was wearing those tight jeans earlier seen on a previous twin leg. He had a black shirt on that went down to the middle of his upper legs and had white cross bones on his black hat. He was sitting there staring at the ground like he was about to die. When the foxes walked up to them he told them in his own language that he had cancer and only three months left to live. For some strange reason all of the foxes could understand this. His voice was gentle as he told them his name was Syren Hull. He also told them that three months was wrong, as were the doctors, he was going to die today, and he was ready for reincarnation. All of the foxes sat in a circle with him in the center and howled to show him their sorrow. At the moment they finished he pat angelcloud between the ears and smiled as his eyes turned into the back of his head and glazed over. He died smiling. Light was enveloping his body now. The light rose as his substance faded. In his place was a single flower; a white rose, the reincarnation of an Ophorio warrior.
The group of curious canines had arrived at an abandoned Victorian farm house. The walls were white granite with flowers and vines etched into the wall in gold leaf and lapis lazuli. There were poppies everywhere and the grasses were ablaze with lush neon green and growth. There were bee hives on every tree and bees in every hive. The sky was becoming a deep blue with purple and orange trims near the horizon. A crick ran peacefully through the fields off to one side of the farm house. There were wild stallions grazing happily throughout the grassland, melodically stamping their hooves against the gravel, harmoniously neighing out loud at the sight of foxes then warily coming closer, learning that every one here was in peace with all others. Softpelt stopped on the side of the crick to drink and bathe. DeLilac joined him in the river soon after he had splashed into the water and started swimming carefully. After a while all of the foxes were playing and splashing around in the water. It had been a long day for the five foxes so sleep came easily when the time came.
The foxes only had one area left to cover; the Walkway of Will. The sky was a violet veil over the long landscape. The trees produced little shade, for they were scattered clumsily across the tattered grasslands. There were a few sizable lakes laid out about the horizon and the grass was impossibly green. They’re were flowers of colors such as red, blue, and yellow and stones in colors like purple and white, smoothed by the water that once rose above the land as a swamp. They’re around twenty deer grazing peacefully about the shore of the ponds. All was silent besides the ring and buzz of nature. The murmur of the birds was the melody of the forest off to the east.
They were further approaching the walkway with triumph gleaming brightly in their eyes. The hawks in the trees were harmoniously screeching against the light breeze and the reeds of bamboo were flutes in the wind, whistling like a rainstorm in the spring. They were almost there now, anxiety seeping crisply through their
veins, tension melting in their bones, and suspense speaking hoarsely in their minds. Softpelt was starting to worry about the truth of Ophorio mountain range. Delilac was exited but anxious to meet foxes in their true form. Five foxes had arrived finally at the end of the Walkway of Will.
Two
Spiritsail, a fox kit without a shelter or family, had just been orphaned brutally. It had been as if his life had been nearly accepted into the world and turned down wretchedly. Tears were smothered and smeared all down his human face.
In this world animals are just as human as you and I but we see them for what they aren’t, we haven’t paid the earth any respect so it shields the more powerful from our hatred and pollution as we clog its lungs with smoke and exhaust. It gave life to the many species and we waste it away as if it were another piece of waste we dump hatefully into its veins. This is all true but we’ll save this conversation for another time.
Spiritsail was running quickly and sly, striving desperately not to break the ground beneath his feet and not to let the poacher have knowledge of his substantial being, fortunately he was obviously skilled quite enough to achieve this, but he would still have challenges of many sooner than hoped or expected. He had lost the poacher in a bend around the willow trees where the river met with the shore and his parentage had hunted when food was scarce. Spiritsails face was beginning to pale and his legs wouldn’t give up the aching that grudgingly bathed them like a hammer massaging a metal bar against the anvil; the bed of metal that would lead to reincarnation.
Without pain there was no gain, but at that moment lacking gain he was and pain existed deeply almost teasingly in vain.
Spiritsail had come to a clearing were a poacher sinned corruptibly with his gun. He was apprehensive about if he wanted to rip the poacher to shreds or cower in terror. Spiritsail was watching a bear be downed by a witless twin leg. This was the bear that had caught him a fish in return for a place to sleep for one night just a week ago. Trickling down the bears bloodshot eyes were tears that glistened tragically in the moonlight. The bear knew he had only minutes left and still didn’t fight back. Spiritsail remembered the bear telling him that he didn’t believe in revenge but had just had a cub slaughtered by a greedy human. The bear saw Spiritsail and gave him salutation one last heart shattering time. The poor kit saw the bear collapse with great momentum then left sulkily to leave the poacher with the task of skinning his friend.
Spiritsail was tempted greatly to give up but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be alive long. All was tranquil as the moonlight grazed across his reddish brown fur with its cream colored markings and brightly shined on his crimson violet eyes. It seemed as though everything were destined painfully to go wrong around every bend in life. His parents no longer walked the earth, his friends were all migrating to the Ophorio mountain range, and he was without company or a shelter to survive along with.
The sun was beginning to pierce the dark night sky and the stars were fading. Spiritsail envied the trees that didn’t have to put much effort in to live. There was another fox out in the distance racing towards him and howling at him gently, telling him not to be afraid and to stay where he was.
According to the fox her name was SeaSwan. This fox was white with blue eyes and she was wearing a sapphire studded leather collar. Her soul was pale with blue eyes, obviously. She was wearing a long green shirt and skinny jeans with blue converse tennis shoes. Her hair was black, long, and incredibly wavy. She had a ridiculously expensive ring on her finger; it was twenty-four carat gold with a cylinder of sapphire making a loop around the whole ring in the middle.
Apparently she was here to take him to the ophorio mountain range along with her company; MoonDance. MoonDance was a tall, orange fox with green eyes. MoonDance was wearing a silver collar with emerald studs. Her soul was tall with strawberry blonde hair and slightly tanish colored skin. She wore a silver ring with emeralds in the same build as SeaSwan.
SeaSwan had given Spiritsail a silver collar with rubies for studs that as a ring had the same structure as the rest of the rings. Spiritsail was honored. The rubies reflected light on the entire exposed surface like a bat reflects a ball.
Walking at a reliable pace, the foxes journeyed onwards towards the Lake of Life. The three compassionate canines were moving hurriedly only because poachers prowled thoroughly throughout the terrain. A crystal lake was coming clearly into view, vaguely, but definitely on the horizon moving closer as they moved towards it. The blooms in this neatly strewn area were increasingly aromatic. The lake was closer. The trees shaded the three acquaintances accurately. The lake was more and more defined by the moment. The sky showered light, unregretful of the outcome, over the whole forest being blocked only partially by the trees. The lake shore was coming into contact with their delicate paws. The fairly sized stones scattered heavily around the soft white sand rose greatly but not overwhelmingly overhead. SeaSwan was touching the lake waters with her pale white feet. MoonDance inhaled a gasp deeply as she discovered the tranquility inhabited by the cool, deeply pronounced, waters that swirled everlastingly inside the lake. Spiritsail almost collapsed in surprise as his feet came to greet the semi-icy waters. The gulls flying above called out loudly and proudly to the world. The water was up to their knees now, immunizing them from any break in the not so silent peace. The underwater leafage brushed temptingly against their feet. They were swimming now, slightly regretting that they had to leave. A spiral of smoke billowed up from a camp site not to far away. With their feet weighing down on the ground again, they moved forwards. The air was escaping and returning to their lungs repeatedly. Now they emerged from the liquid life of the Lake of Life.
As they walked further the trees started to become withered and the air as polluted as ever. Snakes slithered about the depth of the burnt, lifeless area . Morel mushrooms grew under the dying plant life that invaded the dead distance. All three care-free canines scrambled over to a Morel deposit to have a light snack.
Now that they were done eating It was time to move onwards fore this was the domain of ScaleHawk; the god of snakes and birds of prey. SeaSwan had come to meet this overlord once before. He was terrifying, but actually a pretty nice guy. He had tried to devour SeaSwan but had apparently thought better of it for he put her down and slithered away towards his burrow…cave…whatever it was. A few moments later he had come back out and given her a meal and let her rest until satisfied in an abandoned cabin, built by a twin leg many years ago, near his cave.
Three canines were out of breath and going slower at this point, leaving behind the habitat of ScaleHawk. The air was clearer at the moment. The midnight sky was darkening extremely. The intensely vibrant colors and aromas of the bushels of flowers nearby were overwhelmingly delicious. The fumes strained through their nostrils and into their lungs and mouth leaving pleasantly large proportions of long lasting residue. Rest came into their eyelids, tempting them gently to sleep which they indeed did.
Spiritsail delighted in his new found friends and moving shelters while he walked along the grasslands. The dandelions brushing tantalizingly against his paws as he smoothly glided along. The sun was a lighthouse beacon in the distance, guiding him onwards. The birds were humming an elegant song and the does moved happily along. Everything was finally right and not a single residue wrong. The simple soothing sound of the rounded rushing river was harmoniously and extra-ordinarily melodic. There were rambunctious fawns splashing about in the tempting waters of the lake of life. As Spiritsail moved on his variable emotions rose sympathetically. While SeaSwan in the grassland her mind was elsewhere. MoonDance saw a black bear picking berries from a bush that coiled and entwined around a tree containing many bees and a life lasting supply of deliciously golden, sweet honey. An oak tree was raised above the incomplete landscape eliminating the light from a wide area. Their surroundings were unbelievable.
In the air was a temporary fragrance. It smelled of cinnamon and lilac. There was white rose bush standing proud above the gravel. There was a twin leg on a picnic blanket wearing jeans and a tie dye shirt. She was a female with brown curly hair and her ring was silver with a violet-crimson jade for a cylinder. In her fox form she was a black fox with cream colored markings and violet-crimson eyes. Her collar was made of woven strips of jean. When the three foxes approached her she told them that her name was Syren hull and that it was her second reincarnation. She told them she had been to the ophorio shrine and had chosen immortality. She had sworn she would never repeat defeat especially not to a cancer as small as leukemia. She would have to adapt to her new being no matter how jealous she was of her other self. She explained that when you become immortal life isn’t as repetitive as it would seem for it is a new body and a new life; your story line is what you make not what your destiny chooses for you. Her life was maimed deeply by cancer in her last penalized life. At this newest point she chose to show her fox form and ran quietly away as if stalking prey.
SeaSwan had found a carcass and was happily beginning to maw at its chest. Spiritsail had found a cash of morels and had begun taking pieces of SeaSwan’s meat and his delicious fungus to make a… salad? MoonDance feasted on a couple of squirrels.
MoonDance was giving Spiritsail a catatonic stare while he ate his food blankly. Everyone was calm and worn out. An unpleasant smell was coming from up in a tree. The smell was most definitely a skunk but it still aroused much difficulty in thoroughly enjoying their food.
The putrid smell was aggravatingly annoying but after a while the smell molecules meandered away, unfortunately it was by that time that they were finished eating the food. Spiritsail was full but still in the mood to silently remain eating due to the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed that meat, even if it was scavenged and a proportion on the brink of being not enough.
As the family moved peacefully forward at a steady pace Spiritsail began to drift into his thoughts. He thought about the way the leaves of the trees swayed in the breeze of the forest; her hair in the wind, the way the lake glimmered ever so confidently in the sun; her eyes in the light, and the song of the birds flowing gently into his ears; her voice ridding sadness from the area hearing words spoken by her.
MoonDance thought of the lake of life and how it signified everything peaceful. She thought about Spiritsail and how hard life had been on him. She understood the lake. She understood his emotions.
SeaSwan, on her voyage, thought of the two orphans she had taken in. she thought about MoonDance and how her parents had abandoned her when they had seen the shrine of ophorio to choose a second life, a gift some compared to immortality.
She thought intensely about what went on inside Spiritsail’s conscience.
She was thriving to understand the principles and philosophy of the world set in emotions; psychology and physiology. Her mind was set, she wanted to learn as much as possible, even what was known as impossible, about the world and the mind of the inhabitants of it.
Existence was hard, life was harder; death was hardest. Existence is staying alive. Life is staying happy. Death is a beginning of memory, but the end of a stream as well.
A trio of intelligent canines had abruptly come to a cliff and even more abruptly did they stop. Just a second later a hawk glided in to sight and swooped up all three of the petrified foxes one by one and lie them down smoothly and softly against a patch of flourishing, neon, olive green grass. When the bird of prey had finished transporting the family to the safe area she slowly melted into the form of a young girl in a fetal position. When she arose she appeared to be Syren Hull but she did not appear to be happy, she had a fresh cut running from a little below her temple to her chin on her left cheek and one eye was swollen enough so that there was barely any color showing.
She explained to them that a larger bird of prey had interpreted her as an actual bird. The bird didn’t survive in a good state long but she was generous enough to heal it and leave it petrified as a penalization. It, by now, would be flying happily in the air.
She asked them if she could travel with them and in gratitude they rubbed their heads against her hand to agree and began walking at a humans pace for her to keep up. Now she morphed into a small strawberry stallion and began to trot at a foxes speed for them to keep up.
The rhythmic beat of the river was a sound to remember, there was the rush and crash of the waterfall, the hollow plump of the current, the splash of the rapid waves. There was a goose swimming in the body of water followed by a trail of young goslings. All was for now peaceful but crisis was imminent. Syren told them that she had to go and flew off happily.
A fire had awoken and smoke was billowing tantalizingly, taunting Spiritsail to jump up and slash his extended claws through the useless oxygen, but no attainment would come of that for his accomplishment would be in ruins before long. Smoke seemed to be infinite. The fire had surrounded them like a horseshoe around the foot of a stallion.
It seemed as if hope were a dream very recently woken out of. Heat waves were being projected violently at SeaSwan, MoonDance, and Spiritsail. Spiritsail collapsed harshly as the fire ejected a burst of flame at his coat a set it to flames.
He lasted forty seconds before passing out. Just as they thought they were going to die they closed their eyes. A miracle. that’s the only way to explain the next naturally disastrous event. A mud slide ran in tendrils down the side of the near by mountain and put out the fire. Softpelt got wet and woke up weakly. He felt filthy and depressed, weak and hurt, so he ran to the lake and jumped in to bathe. The other foxes joined him and began to play. There was a hawk screeching above them that did a quick nosedive then spiraled into the air and flew off gradually.
Distress was in the air and nobody seemed to care too much about the journey ahead of them. There were ashes in Spiritsails fur but he was glad that he was still alive, even if barely.
Fear and anger ran hotly; furiously through Spiritsails veins and sharply; coldly down his spine. He was maddened because he was scared and scared because he was angry. That fire had nearly killed him, was he worth the trek ahead of him? Of course he actually was very capable of this and other things most kits weren’t, but he was beginning to foolishly doubt that.
The trees were tall with white bark and pink leaves. They formed a circle of eight. In the center was a stone pool carved in a perfect circle making contact with the trees surrounding it. In the shallow pool of water there was a fox soul, not one in a human form, but one that had chosen warm immortality as a gift from the Ophorio shrine. Warm immortality was when you became a short haired soft sphere that emitted light and heat. This gift was rare. These spiritual creatures could bend gravity and friction and move and any speed. These creatures had blood that would heal any poison or burn, any cut or wound. But these creatures were impossible to penetrate. The only way to collect their precious blood was for them to love you and to have an Ophorio bond created with you. To put start to an Ophorio bond you have to donate part of your soul to that person.
The bond was simpler than Spiritsail had imagined, it felt numbing at firs but then it became warm and cozy. It was nearly finished. The fox soul was melting and becoming a canine war helmet. He was almost done. The helmet moved at a gradual speed and placed it self on his cranium. It was complete.
SpiritSail now looked different. His coat was still light gray and he still had blue eyes, but his soul was now a tall teenage boy with a paler shade of skin and golden blonde hair with brown highlights on the tips. He was wearing a green striped shirt and dark skinny jeans.
They named the soul LeNott. LeNott, in his soul form, was brown and white and had no eyes or ears, nose or mouth, exedra; instead he sensed things through vibrations and his sense of touch.
Tomorrow they would arrive in the valley that leads swiftly to Ophorio Mountain Range. Tonight they would rest and MoonDance, SpiritSail, and SeaSwan, would survive off of the plants that grew when LeNott was in need of food.
SpiritSail dreamt he was flying. The wind in his face was amazing. The clouds churning in the dark night sky were even more so . The moonlight shining so bright it hypnotized him in to believing his surroundings. He could see the valley of Ophorio below him, MoonDance playing with LeNott and SeaSwan talking to a fox named RoanLeopard, just like is father who had lost him during the battle in which his mother had reached fatality.
His dream of flying melted away as his thoughts reenacted the battle. The poacher shot her waist and she collapsed. His father was trying to help her but the poacher came over and swiped the knife shallowly through his neck leaving a small but painful scar under his fur and said that he was next. He ran and SpiritSail covered his eyes as the poacher raised the knife, all he heard was a scream.
He awoke. MoonDance and SeaSwan were arguing over who would get the last piece of fruit that LeNott had produced. He walked over slyly while they were arguing and took the fruit. They didn’t notice until they decided they would split it.
Now they arrived at a dirt path with flowers of infinite shades of impossibly vivid colors. They’re trees and lakes scattered about. They took a step forward.
They’re energy drained a small amount and they’re happiness went up by a huge proportion. They started to walk quickly. The breeze in their face gave away the illusion that they were zooming through the air while levitating. They began to run.
They’re feet actually started to lift above the ground a little more than usual when they ran. They were leaping; prancing, quickly as a tornado through the valley.
They were there. Now they heard a voice.
“Is that SpiritSail?!”
Three
SoftPelt was splashing in the lake, enjoying himself alongside is newfound friends, Cypress and Marylyn, at the moment.
Marylyn was a tall reddish brown fox with black trims and markings. In human appearance she was still tall with reddish brown hair, peach colored skin, and stunning gray eyes. She was wearing a blue bandana, skinny jeans, and a long turquoise t- shirt.
Cypress was an adopted hawk. He was adopted two years ago as a young bird when his mom was shot. He was emotionally challenged and just to make things better his dad was poached recently. He received the news that morning. He now knew that his parent hadn’t abandoned him and his mother like they thought he had. He was lost in a storm. As soon as his dad figured out that cypress was growing up in the mountains he headed straight forward up into the valley and traveled almost to the mountains. He almost made it.
Now a large gray wolf appeared, snared and charged SoftPelt. Ripping into his flesh with his young jaws, SoftPelt threw the wolf down. The wolf whined sarcastically and tried to bite SoftPelt’s hind leg. He succeeded. SoftPelt became completely human and shoved him against a tree, hand around neck. SoftPelt twisted his ankle, screamed, and shoved the wolf through the tree. The wolf tore a gash in SoftPelt’s side causing him to collapse under the wolves heavy paws. SoftPelt regained his true self and lie there. The wolf set fire to SoftPelt’s pelt by striking his claw on a rock. SoftPelt weakly rolled on the floor striving to put out the scorching fiery flames. The wolf was circling, about to shred the cub. DeLilac sprung and slid under his chest and shoved her claw into his chest. His body began to evaporate. They walked a couple of feet before he reappeared behind them and tried to swipe his claw through SoftPelt’s side once more. SoftPelt reared with fiery in his eyes and charged the wolf against a tall rock. SoftPelt then put his paws against his side pinning him. Now he stared at the wolf hard in the eyes and bashed his head against the rock with great force. The wolf lost consciousness and began to become lifeless, losing substance by the second. By the end of the minute he was completely nothing, a mass of oxygen and dust particles.
SoftPelt began to stagger. He was limping nearly the full way back to the den. The mentors thought his weak legs were just an effect from his “argument” with the wolf.
They told him to go to the nurse and it would be fine after a little rest. He got to the nurse and she told him he had a tumor in his front right leg. She told him that there was a good chance the leg would need to be removed in order to stop the cells from spreading.
Cypress was thee to make it so much better by letting slip multiple negative remarks involving SoftPelt’s walking and looks. DeLilac looked at him. The selfish hawk let loose yet another comment about, this time, SoftPelt’s eyes being too big. DeLilac snarled, jumped, and grabbed the hawks wing in her teeth, throwing him brutally against the solid dirt floor. “His eyes… are perfect.” she snarled. SoftPelt lifted the bird in his teeth and softly put him on his aching back. Delilac took him off but she kept him in her mouth, hanging by his leg. LionFox asked him if he was feeling better. Delilac looked at her while SoftPelt walked past her. Her look told LionFox that DeLilac would tell her later. Delilac stayed there a second then swiftly moved forward to catch up.
SoftPelt hadn’t even noticed SpiritSail and LeNott, two strangers he hadn’t yet met.
SoftPelt slept ruggedly that night, asleep and awake, thinking about his fight that day.
He thought about what would happen if he wasn’t able to fight off the leukemia. He knew that most creatures didn’t have the medication to treat cancerous cells. He knew that if he didn’t make it physically that the family of Ophorio would be ended. I this case Ophorio’s “friend“ would make his first move in a long time and eventually a war would break out. Even if SoftPelt could make it he wouldn’t be strong enough to engage in combat.
In the morning Syren Hull arrived at the foot of his cushioned floor, before anyone else had awoken, and told SoftPelt she knew of a way to cure his condition. There was a gift in the shrine of Ophorio that with a selfless reason someone could retrieve for another being.
Problem being Syren had already claimed her share of objects from the shrine. Another problem was that once you had swallowed the concoction it would take three months of suffering to cure the disease. The mixture was full of acids that, though they caused extremely painful symptoms, could heal the most bizarre sickness. Syren was sorry for SoftPelt but didn’t know how to help him. SpiritSail wandered over to SoftPelt and asked him if there was anything he could do to help him SoftPelt told him weakly that if he could get to the shrine of Ophorio than possibly his companionable pet would be able to receive the antidote for SoftPelt’s sickness. At that moment LeNott began to hum an echoing tune. Flowers began to grow around him. The flowers were red and cone shaped. They contained a single berry each. SoftPelt began to eat the berries. Instantly he was in pain. The key he had obtained earlier from the shrine was no lying on the floor in front of
him. His mind ached so intensely as to cause him to imagine screams. They might have been his own. Although the hurt in his leg had washed away he was still shaking violently and thrashing juristically about the cold grass floor. DeLilac had apparently been watching from behind a corner. She carried SoftPelt, with the help of SpiritSail, to his bearskin bed. The beds here were made of bear skin and filled with wool. Reason being that many years ago during Ophorio’s war the dark wizards had recruited bears as warriors and Ophorio had used wool to weave robes for his children. SoftPelt stopped shaking so violently when DeLilac set him down only because he felt safer knowing that she was there. DeLilac chose to show her human self and smoothed SoftPelt’s fur with a soft wet rag. Now she wrapped him in a silk blanket that SpiritSail had found in the nursery.
SoftPelt slept disturbingly rough, thrashing his paws at invisible nothingness and opening his jaws to growl at objects that weren’t actually there. His side had begun to ache though he wasn’t aware of it. DeLilac knew that though foxes were still wild animals wild animals with human souls, they could become their human appearance completely within the walls of the Ophorio mountain range. This gave the advantage of comforting SoftPelt once his sleeping self was coaxed into his human self. Wrapping him in the silk blanket, she stared at his emotionless face. Now she gathered a material like leather made from a plant that LeNott produced. The plant was blue with a green bowl like blossom filled with red nectar. The plant had thick soft skin. She knit it together to make a full mattress with wool yarn. Now she tore apart her bear skin bed and lined the top of the mattress with it. She filled the mattress like platform with cotton like material from yet another plant LeNott produced and lined the edges with rabbit fur.. she took her own silk blanket and crafted a pocket onto the bed. She now moved SoftPelt gently beneath the covers. He stopped shaking so much when she lifted him.
He woke up almost all the way when she moved him but only enough for her to feed him the nectar from the plants produced by LeNott. Once he was done eating the others realized how exhausted they were and slept in the usual pairs.
Four
Salutations to you, reader of my story. actually, it is not my story at all. this is the story of a young boy named Jackel and a girl named Liandra.
Jackel had been dreaming for months about Foxes and interesting things as such. So had Liandra. Liandra an so as Jackel had been Viewing those dreams from a very short leash barely, aloud to roam. They had been able to discuss it as well. One night.. Or day, depending on your perspective, Liandra and he both agreed to meet Sunset Park to prove to one another they existed outside of their linked sub consciousness. This was three months ago. Four days from three months ago they did just this. They met up and as Jackel’s light blue, almost grey, eyes met Liandra’s light hazel eyes they somehow felt they knew each other. Not just because of the stories told in the dreams but because of the stories told in their eyes as well.
Jackel’s Dad had died thirty-six months ago, three years not far from the dot. His mother was a very poor, Jobless, woman living off donations from her many social contacts. He lived in a small house. Not much less than a month ago he had been diagnosed with a disease. It was unknown. It had to do with the failure of his heart. He had precisely three months to live.
Liandra was homeless. She did, though, have as sentimental home. She lived under an abandoned fox den with her companionship, a dove, Wallem, who had been trained to fly to Liandra’s most likely rescuer on the word help until help arrived. Once help arrived and the bird was back the bird would say these word, “ I have returned Liandra says I.” and following that, “me-hopes I have served you well.”
Jackel’s mother was horrifically murder two nights from eight days ago. I am saying these times in this order because eight days ago she was murder, yet, two days from eight days ago, she was horrifically murdered; killed. Jackel was fourteen and living with Liandra who was one month younger.
��Alone in the world was SoftPelt, a fox cub lacking a home or companionship.
Even as he walked, terror elevated crookedly through his being, mind, and soul.
Desperately the poor cub tried not to step on the dry brittle leaves or the dead crumbling twigs, and not to make a single sound to alert the poacher of his existence. Unfortunately he was apparently not skilled enough to achieve this difficult task, for at the very moment he presumed victory; escape, he was lifted slowly through the air by a set of dull, but precise, jaws.” Who are you?” he whispered questioningly. “I am your savior for now, so don’t let me out of your mind, sight, or reach,” she replied quietly.
SoftPelt was awake merely half the long, tiring distance of the journey to where ever they were heading for, but when they got to their beautifully crafted destination he was wide awake, asking questions like; who, where, why and gained information like; I am LionFox, you are at camp Ophorio, and because you were orphaned.
The camp was in a crevice with anciently carved stairways leading to the hill ranges protruding outward maybe three hills. There were oak and elm trees all throughout the small canyon. Inside this safe haven there were dens scattered all along the edges.
SoftPelt was happy here, but still shy, confused, depressed, and maddened by the poacher and the thought of his triumph at reaping his parentage’s soul for her substantial being.
.
Isn’t it tragic for the climax of a young cub’s life to come so soon and have a high-towering arch haunt his life for the rest of his personal eternity?
“Lionfox, when will we hunt?”
“Soon enough young one,” she replied calmly.
One
It had been nearly a month of solid combat training in the golden-brown dirt courtyard, playing in the neon green, lush fields of grasses and milkweed, and meeting new people like Roanleopard, DeLilac, and Angelcloud. Roanleopard was a medium sized fox with soft, black fur and white underbelly and markings around his strong, delicate paws and forehead. DeLilac was only a cub around Softpelt’s age, she was colored a fiery red with a creamy underbelly and delineated markings. Angelcloud was a dull shade of gray that reminded Softpelt of arctic camouflage. These five foxes became a cohesive family who would readily begin their expedition to the rugged ranges of the Ophorio Mountains. Here the orphaned fox kits hoped for a safe and eventual arrival. The kits each approached the impending journey with mixed emotions. Softpelt was ecstatic that he would have something related in any way to a family and he was willing to mortally defend that bond. DeLilac couldn’t decide whether she was nervous and anxious or grateful and excited, but she had the maturity and perseverance to endure the obstacles ahead. Lionfox, Angelcloud, and Roanleopard, being the more elderly foxes, were determined to become the fierce leaders they were born to be--leading their first travels… leading their first apprentices... and leading their life course. Together they would journey towards what they hoped would become a long stay in paradise.
When the dawn broke that morning, they hunted wild chickens, squirrels, and rabbits, seeking sly simplicity in their movement. The neon colors of the oaks and elms, maples and birch, scattered artistically about the woodlands were most brilliant to Softpelt. The light brown pastels of the trunk and the myriad of green and reddish-brown leaves themselves that so generously produced shade for the passing creatures, and the more permanent animals that dwelled in this area, using it as a habitat. This captivating display of nature was exhilarating and priceless to DeLilac. The way the grass cushioned the pads on Softpelts paws was wonderful, and the layout of the multiple berry bushes and herbs made him feel at home. Today was a day to inhale the surroundings.
According to Angelcloud the only apparent way there was to follow the paths but the more logical path was simply swimming through the lake of life, the birth place and home of many. When angelcloud was younger she came here every month to soak in the water and bathe in the sun. She would always try to catch the fish that swam happily in the currents and they would tease her knowing she wouldn’t ever catch them.
The companions were at shore now sinking their paws into the decently damp sand and calmingly soaking their exhausted paws. The shapes were wading deeply now through the shallow, warm waters. Their feet were starting to elevate above the lake floor. Five canine companions were swimming happily now, feeling the gentle ripple of the sleepy current against their pelts. DeLilac didn’t want to leave. Softpelt was letting himself be pulled along joyfully, regretting the fact that he had to leave. Roanleopard couldn’t bear the peacefulness any longer. It was too perfect for him. Though he did enjoy the tranquility, it was still a bit unnerving to be so happy and calmed at one time. Angelcloud couldn’t get rid of the faint impulse to stay on the lush green grasses with their tulips and herbs brushing lightly on her fur and just doze deeply, enjoying the warm waters and the icy breeze. The aroma of the flowers would sing her to sleep, but she shook that thought away quickly. Lionfox was born here and was terrified of this place for her parent was killed here, by a dreadful poacher with his gun. All the poacher had to do was pull the trigger and her mother was left there with her kit under her front leg sobbing and breathing shallow and quick. While she lies there dying without even the faintest hope of survival the desperate cub sobs into her cold stiff pelt vaguely hoping that her parentage will revive, but knowing that it wont happen; her mother was hopelessly dead. Just being back where she had witnessed such tragedy made her feel like a defenseless kit again.
Now on the brink of the shimmering lake, the five foxes stepped up onto the warm, sun soaked sand and brushed muzzles, congratulating each other cautiously. Their consciousnesses were full of tranquil emptiness and empty tranquilly of filling. The world had a touch of being tragically beautiful and beautifully tragic in the minds of these friends as they realized the cycle of death in this world and the lack of reincarnation. Softpelt sighed, exhausted, but was willing himself endlessly to keep going for the sake of his mother. DeLilac was hoping with everything she possessed that she could stay here, but buried deep inside of her the thought remained that she would have to move on just like many more foxes to come and go. As DeLilac surveyed her surroundings, she steadily realized that nothing was as perfect as it seemed; there were leaves falling off trees and the air held a hue of amber that hung low on the mountains. Pollution was slowing seeping into paradise.
The trees in and near their location were withering from pollution and smoke produced in poacher camp sites.
There were leaves and twigs crumbling wretchedly beneath Softpelts cold aching feet. They would soon to be arriving in the Valleys of Forever where time stood steadily still swaying minimally in the breeze of space and the current of life.
Softpelt was dazed by the scenery ahead of him; captivated by the light and undisturbed murmur of the animals about the timeless place, there were prehistoric plants and vines growing carelessly through out the valley, the deer and antelope played happily together as if they had done so for millions of years, which they probably had, and nothing else mattered to them, the birds sung harmoniously like a million orchestras playing only the most beautiful songs in their possible reach and potential, even the insects flew durably as if the frogs nearby in the pond beside them wouldn’t dream of devouring them, then again this might be true.
Half way through the valley at this point in time, DeLilac heard a poacher’s gun sound not far off, some swearing, and a screech. Its sad how things that beautiful can be that fragile. The eagles screech was sharper than the sharpest blade and as shrill as the most piercing scream and nearly gave Softpelt a heart attack.
They were almost through the valley now. A twin leg without its gun was sitting rite in front of them playing a harp. The twin leg wore bright colors, long wavy hair, tight clothing from waist down, and a weird necklace with a circular charm. It was a female. The twin leg stretched out its upper limb and patted DeLilac on the forehead right in between her ears. The twin leg was changing now. Becoming a vague canine shape, the twin leg changed slowly like a caterpillar in its cocoon. It had become a wolf and the harp an eagle and they were beginning to glide slowly away. Softpelt and DeLilac were the only ones in the family of foxes who had guessed who that was; Ophorio.
The edge of the valley was the end of the picturesque sightings also. In this withering section of the forest the air was damp and warm; the trees drooped like a canvas sealing them in from contact with light. Though it would only last a while it was new and rejected by the family of five.
At a point of the dead tunnels a snake of amazing length and perilous width became visible. Hissing noisily the frightening being spiraled around an antelope and compressed it to smithereens. The foul creature was consuming the bits and pieces of the previously lively slop. Softpelt knew this was just the way of life, but was gallant enough to know that he had to do something about this darkened reptile before it destroyed more than it needed which of what Softpelt could see it already had.
Softpelt could see the snake was obviously deeply troubled so he traveled the weak five feet in between the snake and himself and spoke to it gently not paying much attention to the words but the tone of his voice. The snake began melting away into lights and sounds of many colors and frequencies. In the central point of these lights and noises there was a twin legged child curled up sleeping peacefully on the forest floor. The child had beautiful hazel eyes and slept with them open showing the slit like pupils they contained. He had a dark brown pudding bowl hair style and tan skin. The twin leg was wearing a brown smooth coat with rabbit fur trimmings and a long white tattered tee-shirt with tight jeans around his back legs. The child had awoken now. He was smiling at Softpelt as if Softpelt was his own brother. Some twin legged ones must be kind for this one was definitely one of them. A blinding flash of multi colored light appeared and left and in the twin legs place there was a hawk. The hawk could apparently not stay because at that breath taking, heart warming instant he flew away with a melodic screech. This screech was not a battle cry.
Five canines had come to a beautiful field filled of tall thick and vibrant green grasses with white blossoms invading the landscape. There were elm trees in the middle forming a circle. In the center of the circle a stone stood steadily stopping the stealthy thieves trying treacherously to obtain the treasures and peacefulness inside. All true hearted foxes were welcome but each could leave with only one artifact in their hopefully happily lived lives. To be a true hearted fox you must love love, hate hate, and live life. SoftPelt had definitely had all of these qualities so he was the one to step up to the shrine to Ophorio.
In the shrine there were many things SoftPelt could obtain for himself such as the shadow, a large fruit that could bring his mom back for a day, gold, a ring of invisibility, and much more. Despite the cruelly tempting voices in his head he did not take the shadow, the riches, or even the gift of invisibility, for he knew in his over heating heart, past his head aches, past the wall of pain cast before his whiskers, that he must do what’s right for DeLilac and the pack, not only himself. He grabbed the key buried in the center of treasures and made up his crumbling mind to leave the altar, witch he did thoughtlessly without an ounce of regret.
Outside of the altar the four other friends came over to him watching him collapse soundlessly as he began to cry out and soon all five of them were howling viciously at the moon. Life was cruel. You have to understand he just had to give up the last day he could possibly have with his mom to get some worthless key just so he could get inside of a fort outside of their destination. All that the key could gain for him was to give him a chance to have a meeting with Ophorio. He was depressed.
That night the foxes made very comfortable make shift beds of moss and marsh weeds. They all slept in separate beds besides the exceptional Softpelt who couldn’t sleep there for moved over to huddle snuggly next to DeLilac who wasn’t letting on the fact that she was still awake for around a half an hour after Softpelt moved over, she didn’t think negatively of this though for she was worried for Softpelt’s emotional health. Softpelt was dreamless and for some reason shaking violently in his sleep. DeLilac calmed him down the way her mother did for her before she died, she smoothed his fur with her paw until he was calm enough to make DeLilac think he wasn’t mentally dying anymore.
The sound SoftPelt made when he awoke was deeply related to what you hear when a moose with bronchitis screeches at the top of its lungs when a poacher kills it along with a rabid donkeys happy dance cry. An eagle had swooped down from the sky apparently thinking he was pray and tried top sweep him up into the air for a nice meal, fortunately his… sound… scared it away.
DeLilac and Softpelt didn’t care that every thing was all okay; they walked side by side leaning against one another like they were towers falling in opposite inwards directions keeping each other up clumsily. if foxes could smile Angelcloud’s mouth would be physically impaired right now. They had come to a pathway and
according to the over heated glower in Lionfox’s eyes she was obviously ecstatic.
A twin leg was occupying a patch of dirt in the center of the golden brown dirt pathway. He was wearing those tight jeans earlier seen on a previous twin leg. He had a black shirt on that went down to the middle of his upper legs and had white cross bones on his black hat. He was sitting there staring at the ground like he was about to die. When the foxes walked up to them he told them in his own language that he had cancer and only three months left to live. For some strange reason all of the foxes could understand this. His voice was gentle as he told them his name was Syren Hull. He also told them that three months was wrong, as were the doctors, he was going to die today, and he was ready for reincarnation. All of the foxes sat in a circle with him in the center and howled to show him their sorrow. At the moment they finished he pat angelcloud between the ears and smiled as his eyes turned into the back of his head and glazed over. He died smiling. Light was enveloping his body now. The light rose as his substance faded. In his place was a single flower; a white rose, the reincarnation of an Ophorio warrior.
The group of curious canines had arrived at an abandoned Victorian farm house. The walls were white granite with flowers and vines etched into the wall in gold leaf and lapis lazuli. There were poppies everywhere and the grasses were ablaze with lush neon green and growth. There were bee hives on every tree and bees in every hive. The sky was becoming a deep blue with purple and orange trims near the horizon. A crick ran peacefully through the fields off to one side of the farm house. There were wild stallions grazing happily throughout the grassland, melodically stamping their hooves against the gravel, harmoniously neighing out loud at the sight of foxes then warily coming closer, learning that every one here was in peace with all others. Softpelt stopped on the side of the crick to drink and bathe. DeLilac joined him in the river soon after he had splashed into the water and started swimming carefully. After a while all of the foxes were playing and splashing around in the water. It had been a long day for the five foxes so sleep came easily when the time came.
The foxes only had one area left to cover; the Walkway of Will. The sky was a violet veil over the long landscape. The trees produced little shade, for they were scattered clumsily across the tattered grasslands. There were a few sizable lakes laid out about the horizon and the grass was impossibly green. They’re were flowers of colors such as red, blue, and yellow and stones in colors like purple and white, smoothed by the water that once rose above the land as a swamp. They’re around twenty deer grazing peacefully about the shore of the ponds. All was silent besides the ring and buzz of nature. The murmur of the birds was the melody of the forest off to the east.
They were further approaching the walkway with triumph gleaming brightly in their eyes. The hawks in the trees were harmoniously screeching against the light breeze and the reeds of bamboo were flutes in the wind, whistling like a rainstorm in the spring. They were almost there now, anxiety seeping crisply through their
veins, tension melting in their bones, and suspense speaking hoarsely in their minds. Softpelt was starting to worry about the truth of Ophorio mountain range. Delilac was exited but anxious to meet foxes in their true form. Five foxes had arrived finally at the end of the Walkway of Will.
Two
Spiritsail, a fox kit without a shelter or family, had just been orphaned brutally. It had been as if his life had been nearly accepted into the world and turned down wretchedly. Tears were smothered and smeared all down his human face.
In this world animals are just as human as you and I but we see them for what they aren’t, we haven’t paid the earth any respect so it shields the more powerful from our hatred and pollution as we clog its lungs with smoke and exhaust. It gave life to the many species and we waste it away as if it were another piece of waste we dump hatefully into its veins. This is all true but we’ll save this conversation for another time.
Spiritsail was running quickly and sly, striving desperately not to break the ground beneath his feet and not to let the poacher have knowledge of his substantial being, fortunately he was obviously skilled quite enough to achieve this, but he would still have challenges of many sooner than hoped or expected. He had lost the poacher in a bend around the willow trees where the river met with the shore and his parentage had hunted when food was scarce. Spiritsails face was beginning to pale and his legs wouldn’t give up the aching that grudgingly bathed them like a hammer massaging a metal bar against the anvil; the bed of metal that would lead to reincarnation.
Without pain there was no gain, but at that moment lacking gain he was and pain existed deeply almost teasingly in vain.
Spiritsail had come to a clearing were a poacher sinned corruptibly with his gun. He was apprehensive about if he wanted to rip the poacher to shreds or cower in terror. Spiritsail was watching a bear be downed by a witless twin leg. This was the bear that had caught him a fish in return for a place to sleep for one night just a week ago. Trickling down the bears bloodshot eyes were tears that glistened tragically in the moonlight. The bear knew he had only minutes left and still didn’t fight back. Spiritsail remembered the bear telling him that he didn’t believe in revenge but had just had a cub slaughtered by a greedy human. The bear saw Spiritsail and gave him salutation one last heart shattering time. The poor kit saw the bear collapse with great momentum then left sulkily to leave the poacher with the task of skinning his friend.
Spiritsail was tempted greatly to give up but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be alive long. All was tranquil as the moonlight grazed across his reddish brown fur with its cream colored markings and brightly shined on his crimson violet eyes. It seemed as though everything were destined painfully to go wrong around every bend in life. His parents no longer walked the earth, his friends were all migrating to the Ophorio mountain range, and he was without company or a shelter to survive along with.
The sun was beginning to pierce the dark night sky and the stars were fading. Spiritsail envied the trees that didn’t have to put much effort in to live. There was another fox out in the distance racing towards him and howling at him gently, telling him not to be afraid and to stay where he was.
According to the fox her name was SeaSwan. This fox was white with blue eyes and she was wearing a sapphire studded leather collar. Her soul was pale with blue eyes, obviously. She was wearing a long green shirt and skinny jeans with blue converse tennis shoes. Her hair was black, long, and incredibly wavy. She had a ridiculously expensive ring on her finger; it was twenty-four carat gold with a cylinder of sapphire making a loop around the whole ring in the middle.
Apparently she was here to take him to the ophorio mountain range along with her company; MoonDance. MoonDance was a tall, orange fox with green eyes. MoonDance was wearing a silver collar with emerald studs. Her soul was tall with strawberry blonde hair and slightly tanish colored skin. She wore a silver ring with emeralds in the same build as SeaSwan.
SeaSwan had given Spiritsail a silver collar with rubies for studs that as a ring had the same structure as the rest of the rings. Spiritsail was honored. The rubies reflected light on the entire exposed surface like a bat reflects a ball.
Walking at a reliable pace, the foxes journeyed onwards towards the Lake of Life. The three compassionate canines were moving hurriedly only because poachers prowled thoroughly throughout the terrain. A crystal lake was coming clearly into view, vaguely, but definitely on the horizon moving closer as they moved towards it. The blooms in this neatly strewn area were increasingly aromatic. The lake was closer. The trees shaded the three acquaintances accurately. The lake was more and more defined by the moment. The sky showered light, unregretful of the outcome, over the whole forest being blocked only partially by the trees. The lake shore was coming into contact with their delicate paws. The fairly sized stones scattered heavily around the soft white sand rose greatly but not overwhelmingly overhead. SeaSwan was touching the lake waters with her pale white feet. MoonDance inhaled a gasp deeply as she discovered the tranquility inhabited by the cool, deeply pronounced, waters that swirled everlastingly inside the lake. Spiritsail almost collapsed in surprise as his feet came to greet the semi-icy waters. The gulls flying above called out loudly and proudly to the world. The water was up to their knees now, immunizing them from any break in the not so silent peace. The underwater leafage brushed temptingly against their feet. They were swimming now, slightly regretting that they had to leave. A spiral of smoke billowed up from a camp site not to far away. With their feet weighing down on the ground again, they moved forwards. The air was escaping and returning to their lungs repeatedly. Now they emerged from the liquid life of the Lake of Life.
As they walked further the trees started to become withered and the air as polluted as ever. Snakes slithered about the depth of the burnt, lifeless area . Morel mushrooms grew under the dying plant life that invaded the dead distance. All three care-free canines scrambled over to a Morel deposit to have a light snack.
Now that they were done eating It was time to move onwards fore this was the domain of ScaleHawk; the god of snakes and birds of prey. SeaSwan had come to meet this overlord once before. He was terrifying, but actually a pretty nice guy. He had tried to devour SeaSwan but had apparently thought better of it for he put her down and slithered away towards his burrow…cave…whatever it was. A few moments later he had come back out and given her a meal and let her rest until satisfied in an abandoned cabin, built by a twin leg many years ago, near his cave.
Three canines were out of breath and going slower at this point, leaving behind the habitat of ScaleHawk. The air was clearer at the moment. The midnight sky was darkening extremely. The intensely vibrant colors and aromas of the bushels of flowers nearby were overwhelmingly delicious. The fumes strained through their nostrils and into their lungs and mouth leaving pleasantly large proportions of long lasting residue. Rest came into their eyelids, tempting them gently to sleep which they indeed did.
Spiritsail delighted in his new found friends and moving shelters while he walked along the grasslands. The dandelions brushing tantalizingly against his paws as he smoothly glided along. The sun was a lighthouse beacon in the distance, guiding him onwards. The birds were humming an elegant song and the does moved happily along. Everything was finally right and not a single residue wrong. The simple soothing sound of the rounded rushing river was harmoniously and extra-ordinarily melodic. There were rambunctious fawns splashing about in the tempting waters of the lake of life. As Spiritsail moved on his variable emotions rose sympathetically. While SeaSwan in the grassland her mind was elsewhere. MoonDance saw a black bear picking berries from a bush that coiled and entwined around a tree containing many bees and a life lasting supply of deliciously golden, sweet honey. An oak tree was raised above the incomplete landscape eliminating the light from a wide area. Their surroundings were unbelievable.
In the air was a temporary fragrance. It smelled of cinnamon and lilac. There was white rose bush standing proud above the gravel. There was a twin leg on a picnic blanket wearing jeans and a tie dye shirt. She was a female with brown curly hair and her ring was silver with a violet-crimson jade for a cylinder. In her fox form she was a black fox with cream colored markings and violet-crimson eyes. Her collar was made of woven strips of jean. When the three foxes approached her she told them that her name was Syren hull and that it was her second reincarnation. She told them she had been to the ophorio shrine and had chosen immortality. She had sworn she would never repeat defeat especially not to a cancer as small as leukemia. She would have to adapt to her new being no matter how jealous she was of her other self. She explained that when you become immortal life isn’t as repetitive as it would seem for it is a new body and a new life; your story line is what you make not what your destiny chooses for you. Her life was maimed deeply by cancer in her last penalized life. At this newest point she chose to show her fox form and ran quietly away as if stalking prey.
SeaSwan had found a carcass and was happily beginning to maw at its chest. Spiritsail had found a cash of morels and had begun taking pieces of SeaSwan’s meat and his delicious fungus to make a… salad? MoonDance feasted on a couple of squirrels.
MoonDance was giving Spiritsail a catatonic stare while he ate his food blankly. Everyone was calm and worn out. An unpleasant smell was coming from up in a tree. The smell was most definitely a skunk but it still aroused much difficulty in thoroughly enjoying their food.
The putrid smell was aggravatingly annoying but after a while the smell molecules meandered away, unfortunately it was by that time that they were finished eating the food. Spiritsail was full but still in the mood to silently remain eating due to the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed that meat, even if it was scavenged and a proportion on the brink of being not enough.
As the family moved peacefully forward at a steady pace Spiritsail began to drift into his thoughts. He thought about the way the leaves of the trees swayed in the breeze of the forest; her hair in the wind, the way the lake glimmered ever so confidently in the sun; her eyes in the light, and the song of the birds flowing gently into his ears; her voice ridding sadness from the area hearing words spoken by her.
MoonDance thought of the lake of life and how it signified everything peaceful. She thought about Spiritsail and how hard life had been on him. She understood the lake. She understood his emotions.
SeaSwan, on her voyage, thought of the two orphans she had taken in. she thought about MoonDance and how her parents had abandoned her when they had seen the shrine of ophorio to choose a second life, a gift some compared to immortality.
She thought intensely about what went on inside Spiritsail’s conscience.
She was thriving to understand the principles and philosophy of the world set in emotions; psychology and physiology. Her mind was set, she wanted to learn as much as possible, even what was known as impossible, about the world and the mind of the inhabitants of it.
Existence was hard, life was harder; death was hardest. Existence is staying alive. Life is staying happy. Death is a beginning of memory, but the end of a stream as well.
A trio of intelligent canines had abruptly come to a cliff and even more abruptly did they stop. Just a second later a hawk glided in to sight and swooped up all three of the petrified foxes one by one and lie them down smoothly and softly against a patch of flourishing, neon, olive green grass. When the bird of prey had finished transporting the family to the safe area she slowly melted into the form of a young girl in a fetal position. When she arose she appeared to be Syren Hull but she did not appear to be happy, she had a fresh cut running from a little below her temple to her chin on her left cheek and one eye was swollen enough so that there was barely any color showing.
She explained to them that a larger bird of prey had interpreted her as an actual bird. The bird didn’t survive in a good state long but she was generous enough to heal it and leave it petrified as a penalization. It, by now, would be flying happily in the air.
She asked them if she could travel with them and in gratitude they rubbed their heads against her hand to agree and began walking at a humans pace for her to keep up. Now she morphed into a small strawberry stallion and began to trot at a foxes speed for them to keep up.
The rhythmic beat of the river was a sound to remember, there was the rush and crash of the waterfall, the hollow plump of the current, the splash of the rapid waves. There was a goose swimming in the body of water followed by a trail of young goslings. All was for now peaceful but crisis was imminent. Syren told them that she had to go and flew off happily.
A fire had awoken and smoke was billowing tantalizingly, taunting Spiritsail to jump up and slash his extended claws through the useless oxygen, but no attainment would come of that for his accomplishment would be in ruins before long. Smoke seemed to be infinite. The fire had surrounded them like a horseshoe around the foot of a stallion.
It seemed as if hope were a dream very recently woken out of. Heat waves were being projected violently at SeaSwan, MoonDance, and Spiritsail. Spiritsail collapsed harshly as the fire ejected a burst of flame at his coat a set it to flames.
He lasted forty seconds before passing out. Just as they thought they were going to die they closed their eyes. A miracle. that’s the only way to explain the next naturally disastrous event. A mud slide ran in tendrils down the side of the near by mountain and put out the fire. Softpelt got wet and woke up weakly. He felt filthy and depressed, weak and hurt, so he ran to the lake and jumped in to bathe. The other foxes joined him and began to play. There was a hawk screeching above them that did a quick nosedive then spiraled into the air and flew off gradually.
Distress was in the air and nobody seemed to care too much about the journey ahead of them. There were ashes in Spiritsails fur but he was glad that he was still alive, even if barely.
Fear and anger ran hotly; furiously through Spiritsails veins and sharply; coldly down his spine. He was maddened because he was scared and scared because he was angry. That fire had nearly killed him, was he worth the trek ahead of him? Of course he actually was very capable of this and other things most kits weren’t, but he was beginning to foolishly doubt that.
The trees were tall with white bark and pink leaves. They formed a circle of eight. In the center was a stone pool carved in a perfect circle making contact with the trees surrounding it. In the shallow pool of water there was a fox soul, not one in a human form, but one that had chosen warm immortality as a gift from the Ophorio shrine. Warm immortality was when you became a short haired soft sphere that emitted light and heat. This gift was rare. These spiritual creatures could bend gravity and friction and move and any speed. These creatures had blood that would heal any poison or burn, any cut or wound. But these creatures were impossible to penetrate. The only way to collect their precious blood was for them to love you and to have an Ophorio bond created with you. To put start to an Ophorio bond you have to donate part of your soul to that person.
The bond was simpler than Spiritsail had imagined, it felt numbing at firs but then it became warm and cozy. It was nearly finished. The fox soul was melting and becoming a canine war helmet. He was almost done. The helmet moved at a gradual speed and placed it self on his cranium. It was complete.
SpiritSail now looked different. His coat was still light gray and he still had blue eyes, but his soul was now a tall teenage boy with a paler shade of skin and golden blonde hair with brown highlights on the tips. He was wearing a green striped shirt and dark skinny jeans.
They named the soul LeNott. LeNott, in his soul form, was brown and white and had no eyes or ears, nose or mouth, exedra; instead he sensed things through vibrations and his sense of touch.
Tomorrow they would arrive in the valley that leads swiftly to Ophorio Mountain Range. Tonight they would rest and MoonDance, SpiritSail, and SeaSwan, would survive off of the plants that grew when LeNott was in need of food.
SpiritSail dreamt he was flying. The wind in his face was amazing. The clouds churning in the dark night sky were even more so . The moonlight shining so bright it hypnotized him in to believing his surroundings. He could see the valley of Ophorio below him, MoonDance playing with LeNott and SeaSwan talking to a fox named RoanLeopard, just like is father who had lost him during the battle in which his mother had reached fatality.
His dream of flying melted away as his thoughts reenacted the battle. The poacher shot her waist and she collapsed. His father was trying to help her but the poacher came over and swiped the knife shallowly through his neck leaving a small but painful scar under his fur and said that he was next. He ran and SpiritSail covered his eyes as the poacher raised the knife, all he heard was a scream.
He awoke. MoonDance and SeaSwan were arguing over who would get the last piece of fruit that LeNott had produced. He walked over slyly while they were arguing and took the fruit. They didn’t notice until they decided they would split it.
Now they arrived at a dirt path with flowers of infinite shades of impossibly vivid colors. They’re trees and lakes scattered about. They took a step forward.
They’re energy drained a small amount and they’re happiness went up by a huge proportion. They started to walk quickly. The breeze in their face gave away the illusion that they were zooming through the air while levitating. They began to run.
They’re feet actually started to lift above the ground a little more than usual when they ran. They were leaping; prancing, quickly as a tornado through the valley.
They were there. Now they heard a voice.
“Is that SpiritSail?!”
Three
SoftPelt was splashing in the lake, enjoying himself alongside is newfound friends, Cypress and Marylyn, at the moment.
Marylyn was a tall reddish brown fox with black trims and markings. In human appearance she was still tall with reddish brown hair, peach colored skin, and stunning gray eyes. She was wearing a blue bandana, skinny jeans, and a long turquoise t- shirt.
Cypress was an adopted hawk. He was adopted two years ago as a young bird when his mom was shot. He was emotionally challenged and just to make things better his dad was poached recently. He received the news that morning. He now knew that his parent hadn’t abandoned him and his mother like they thought he had. He was lost in a storm. As soon as his dad figured out that cypress was growing up in the mountains he headed straight forward up into the valley and traveled almost to the mountains. He almost made it.
Now a large gray wolf appeared, snared and charged SoftPelt. Ripping into his flesh with his young jaws, SoftPelt threw the wolf down. The wolf whined sarcastically and tried to bite SoftPelt’s hind leg. He succeeded. SoftPelt became completely human and shoved him against a tree, hand around neck. SoftPelt twisted his ankle, screamed, and shoved the wolf through the tree. The wolf tore a gash in SoftPelt’s side causing him to collapse under the wolves heavy paws. SoftPelt regained his true self and lie there. The wolf set fire to SoftPelt’s pelt by striking his claw on a rock. SoftPelt weakly rolled on the floor striving to put out the scorching fiery flames. The wolf was circling, about to shred the cub. DeLilac sprung and slid under his chest and shoved her claw into his chest. His body began to evaporate. They walked a couple of feet before he reappeared behind them and tried to swipe his claw through SoftPelt’s side once more. SoftPelt reared with fiery in his eyes and charged the wolf against a tall rock. SoftPelt then put his paws against his side pinning him. Now he stared at the wolf hard in the eyes and bashed his head against the rock with great force. The wolf lost consciousness and began to become lifeless, losing substance by the second. By the end of the minute he was completely nothing, a mass of oxygen and dust particles.
SoftPelt began to stagger. He was limping nearly the full way back to the den. The mentors thought his weak legs were just an effect from his “argument” with the wolf.
They told him to go to the nurse and it would be fine after a little rest. He got to the nurse and she told him he had a tumor in his front right leg. She told him that there was a good chance the leg would need to be removed in order to stop the cells from spreading.
Cypress was thee to make it so much better by letting slip multiple negative remarks involving SoftPelt’s walking and looks. DeLilac looked at him. The selfish hawk let loose yet another comment about, this time, SoftPelt’s eyes being too big. DeLilac snarled, jumped, and grabbed the hawks wing in her teeth, throwing him brutally against the solid dirt floor. “His eyes… are perfect.” she snarled. SoftPelt lifted the bird in his teeth and softly put him on his aching back. Delilac took him off but she kept him in her mouth, hanging by his leg. LionFox asked him if he was feeling better. Delilac looked at her while SoftPelt walked past her. Her look told LionFox that DeLilac would tell her later. Delilac stayed there a second then swiftly moved forward to catch up.
SoftPelt hadn’t even noticed SpiritSail and LeNott, two strangers he hadn’t yet met.
SoftPelt slept ruggedly that night, asleep and awake, thinking about his fight that day.
He thought about what would happen if he wasn’t able to fight off the leukemia. He knew that most creatures didn’t have the medication to treat cancerous cells. He knew that if he didn’t make it physically that the family of Ophorio would be ended. I this case Ophorio’s “friend“ would make his first move in a long time and eventually a war would break out. Even if SoftPelt could make it he wouldn’t be strong enough to engage in combat.
In the morning Syren Hull arrived at the foot of his cushioned floor, before anyone else had awoken, and told SoftPelt she knew of a way to cure his condition. There was a gift in the shrine of Ophorio that with a selfless reason someone could retrieve for another being.
Problem being Syren had already claimed her share of objects from the shrine. Another problem was that once you had swallowed the concoction it would take three months of suffering to cure the disease. The mixture was full of acids that, though they caused extremely painful symptoms, could heal the most bizarre sickness. Syren was sorry for SoftPelt but didn’t know how to help him. SpiritSail wandered over to SoftPelt and asked him if there was anything he could do to help him SoftPelt told him weakly that if he could get to the shrine of Ophorio than possibly his companionable pet would be able to receive the antidote for SoftPelt’s sickness. At that moment LeNott began to hum an echoing tune. Flowers began to grow around him. The flowers were red and cone shaped. They contained a single berry each. SoftPelt began to eat the berries. Instantly he was in pain. The key he had obtained earlier from the shrine was no lying on the floor in front of
him. His mind ached so intensely as to cause him to imagine screams. They might have been his own. Although the hurt in his leg had washed away he was still shaking violently and thrashing juristically about the cold grass floor. DeLilac had apparently been watching from behind a corner. She carried SoftPelt, with the help of SpiritSail, to his bearskin bed. The beds here were made of bear skin and filled with wool. Reason being that many years ago during Ophorio’s war the dark wizards had recruited bears as warriors and Ophorio had used wool to weave robes for his children. SoftPelt stopped shaking so violently when DeLilac set him down only because he felt safer knowing that she was there. DeLilac chose to show her human self and smoothed SoftPelt’s fur with a soft wet rag. Now she wrapped him in a silk blanket that SpiritSail had found in the nursery.
SoftPelt slept disturbingly rough, thrashing his paws at invisible nothingness and opening his jaws to growl at objects that weren’t actually there. His side had begun to ache though he wasn’t aware of it. DeLilac knew that though foxes were still wild animals wild animals with human souls, they could become their human appearance completely within the walls of the Ophorio mountain range. This gave the advantage of comforting SoftPelt once his sleeping self was coaxed into his human self. Wrapping him in the silk blanket, she stared at his emotionless face. Now she gathered a material like leather made from a plant that LeNott produced. The plant was blue with a green bowl like blossom filled with red nectar. The plant had thick soft skin. She knit it together to make a full mattress with wool yarn. Now she tore apart her bear skin bed and lined the top of the mattress with it. She filled the mattress like platform with cotton like material from yet another plant LeNott produced and lined the edges with rabbit fur.. she took her own silk blanket and crafted a pocket onto the bed. She now moved SoftPelt gently beneath the covers. He stopped shaking so much when she lifted him.
He woke up almost all the way when she moved him but only enough for her to feed him the nectar from the plants produced by LeNott. Once he was done eating the others realized how exhausted they were and slept in the usual pairs.
Four
Salutations to you, reader of my story. actually, it is not my story at all. this is the story of a young boy named Jackel and a girl named Liandra.
Jackel had been dreaming for months about Foxes and interesting things as such. So had Liandra. Liandra an so as Jackel had been Viewing those dreams from a very short leash barely, aloud to roam. They had been able to discuss it as well. One night.. Or day, depending on your perspective, Liandra and he both agreed to meet Sunset Park to prove to one another they existed outside of their linked sub consciousness. This was three months ago. Four days from three months ago they did just this. They met up and as Jackel’s light blue, almost grey, eyes met Liandra’s light hazel eyes they somehow felt they knew each other. Not just because of the stories told in the dreams but because of the stories told in their eyes as well.
Jackel’s Dad had died thirty-six months ago, three years not far from the dot. His mother was a very poor, Jobless, woman living off donations from her many social contacts. He lived in a small house. Not much less than a month ago he had been diagnosed with a disease. It was unknown. It had to do with the failure of his heart. He had precisely three months to live.
Liandra was homeless. She did, though, have as sentimental home. She lived under an abandoned fox den with her companionship, a dove, Wallem, who had been trained to fly to Liandra’s most likely rescuer on the word help until help arrived. Once help arrived and the bird was back the bird would say these word, “ I have returned Liandra says I.” and following that, “me-hopes I have served you well.”
Jackel’s mother was horrifically murder two nights from eight days ago. I am saying these times in this order because eight days ago she was murder, yet, two days from eight days ago, she was horrifically murdered; killed. Jackel was fourteen and living with Liandra who was one month younger.