Post by »|¢yηdєя|« on Oct 4, 2009 18:05:55 GMT -5
I'm going to have to powerplay Tron, Dark's wolf.
It was pouring. Tron hated the rain, he was sensitive. The gray wolf was all but invisible in the dull dreariness of it. Sheets of water pelted him, even under cover of the trees. Nonetheless, he was on a mission. One he would not pass up. The same memory he had remembered from that time. When his mother left him. Reality faded as he recalled this memory once more.
The camp was crowded with throngs of angry wolves. Lightningpup trembled, afraid. He felt the warm tongue of his mother on his head, soothing him. "Shh. I won't let Brokenstar hurt you.", her comforting voice said. A young, red she-wolf came into the nursery. "Windchill, the Pack thinks I've murdered Fleetpaw. Brokenstar is the one who did it, but no one will ever believe their oh-so-wonderful leader would do such a thing. You've got to get out of here before they turn on you for being related to me.", Bloodspill growled urgently. Windchill's ears perked and her eyes became troubled. "Will you be safe?", Windchill asked. Bloodspill nodded, and her sister agreed. Bloodspill was a fine, strong warrior; she could handle the danger. "Farewell, sister.", Windchill replied sadly, and sneaked out of the hole behind her, carrying Lightningpup in her jaws. As the white she-wolf fled, she dropped her son without noticing. Lightningpup was dazed for a moment, then looked around. "Mama? Mama?!", he called fervently, but no Windchill. Confused and alone, a dark thought formed in his head: Mama didn't want me. She doesn't love me anymore. To save herself, she left me here. I was just a burden...
Fueled by this misconception, his hate, and his anger, Lightningpup changed his name to Tron, a sign that he had moved on from Pack life. There was nothing in Shadowpack for him. Mama was gone, and Bloodspill had forgetten who he was. So he lived alone. No one bothered to talk to him, but he didn't care. Tron had a plan. A devious plan. He was going to find his mother, and make her pay for all the hurt she had caused him. However, one day, much like this one, it was pouring. A terrible storm settled over the forest, and the clouds rained down their sorrow and angst in the form of rain and lightning. Tron had made the mistake to huddled under a tree, and, coincedentally, lightning struck the very same tree, jolting young Tron with over 20,000 volts of electricity. It was a wonder he survived. Perhaps because he was meant to. After that, he noticed that he had changed. His heartbeat sent mini-charges through his blood. He had become a livewire, full of electric energy. It had a downside, though. Rain made his fur stand on end, and no matter how hard he tried to smooth it down, the fur refused to budge. It also gave him small shocks. But he could live with the pain. Pain was all Tron ever knew. And now he was here, on the verge of revenge. A large Twoleg structure caught his eye through the gloom. It was big, and red. A barn, most likely. As he watched, a white she-wolf stepped out. It took a moment for Tron to realize who it was.
"Mother.", he growled through clenched teeth. He leaped out of the ferns to confront the wolf who had raised him.
Windchill stopped as a young, gray wolf leaped out at her from the forest. The rain, unrelenting, did not help her to identify who it was...but then, she saw the eyes. Those shockingly familiar ice-blue eyes. Could it be? Was this her lost pup? Was this Lightningpup? Windchill stepped forward. "Lightningpup, is that you?", she asked, shouting above the rumble of thunder that shook the ground. She frowned as the gray wolf answered her. "Yes, but my name isn't 'Lightningpup' anymore. It's Tron!", he snarled, and barrelled into her. Windchill couldn't raise a paw against her son, not even to defend herself. As Tron pinned her down, he shocked her painfully, to stun her.
"Finally, I can take my revenge!", Tron growled. Windchill was confused. "Revenge..?", she asked weakly, her voice raspy. Tron stared her full in the face, rain dripping off his muzzle and fangs. "Yes. You remember those moons ago, when you left me to save yourself from Brokenstar? I remembered. I've kept that memory with me, to remind myself of your selfishness!", Tron snarled, shocking her again. Beneath his paws, Windchill spasmed in pain. She looked up at her son, tears falling from her eyes, but one couldn't tell. For all anyone would know, it was probably just rain. "I do remember, Lightn--Tron. I never meant to leave you, I swear! I looked everywhere for you when I realized I'd dropped you. I'm sorry..", she pleaded. Tron shook his head. "I'm afraid it's too late for apologies. Mother, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you love me. I've always yearned to hear that when I was lost and alone, but I didn't, did I? Well, I want you to say it now, because it's the last thing you'll ever say to me.", he said.
Windchill's eyes were too filled with tears to see her son properly. She shook her head, but the tears were replaced by raindrops. When her vision cleared, she looked up at Tron. "Tron. I love you, s-son. From the moment you were born, I loved you. I still love you, even n-now. I hope..sometime in the future, you'll forgive me for being selfish. I love you Tron...", she whispered. She felt strangely calm, even if death was near, but her eyes held fear. "Good. Now close your eyes. I'll make you fall asleep, and you'll have the best dream one could have, one you never have to wake up from.", Tron replied, and sent 10,000 volts to contact the fur where his paws held his mother's shoulder down. He could have given her more, but this was, after all, his mother. There was just a small pinch of remorse, but no regret. As the glow faded from Windchill's eyes, Tron released her from his grip.
In the rain, Windchill looked like an unwanted doll that had been thrown into a furnace. Her once beautiful white fur was a smoked-gray color, and tiny sparks zapped across her dead body. Her turquiose eyes were a darker blue color. Tron lingered a moment longer beside his mother's corpse. He realized that others would wonder where Windchill was, so he fled. The rain washed his scent away, and it had been as though he were never there.
