Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2013 20:22:18 GMT -5
Dawn found Argo Hiro sitting at the prow of a ship somewhere in the West Blue. He thought of the events that had lead up to this moment. The encounter with Don Cigarette and his gang, joining forces with the eye-patch-swordsman, Cyrus Odin, and finally, the past day spent on the ship heading for the next island on the way to finding the pirates who had kidnapped his family.
Life was starting to look up.
A wet nose on his hand alerted Hiro to Silver-Mane’s awakening. Smiling, Hiro began scratching him behind the ear, just like he used to while they were still on Dimoni Island. Casting his memory back, Hiro remembered the first time he had done as he was doing now.
It was a cold night, a night that made you just want to roll into a ball and shiver until morning came. But that was not an option, Hiro must get stronger, and to get stronger, one usually must eat. Tonight, the pack hunted, and Hiro with them. The oak of the bow yield to the muscles in his back with a familiar tension. Hiro slows his heart to a near stand-still in preparation to releasing the arrow at one of the deer lying on the moon-dappled ground.
But before he could signal the pack with the first arrow, there was trouble. The yip of a frightened wolf accompanied by a bright flash of light turned Hiro’s head. Something was wrong, very wrong. Almost immediately after having this thought, there were cries of dying wolves all around the clearing. In a panic, Hiro was spinning back and forth, looking for the one who would harm his pack. Then he saw.
Torches surrounded the clearing and men with katana were striking down his pack like wheat. Blowing sharply on his whistle, Hiro sounded the “rally to me” signal. A good dozen wolves remained who were able to make it to the circle forming around Hiro. Identifying each wolf in turn, Hiro’s heart filled with dread. Silver-Mane was nowhere to be seen.
A righteous rage filled him at the thought that these men would slaughter his pack. The pack had done nothing to them, so why? The pack was honorable, the pack was loving, the pack was everything that humans should be, but aren’t.
That night, Hiro killed his first human. And second. And many more. The shadows seemed to embrace him, outlining him with a mystic glow. On that night, he was Death. After his entire quiver was spent taking out any man who dared come into the clearing, Hiro got on all fours, not even bothering to draw his daggers and fought like the wolves.
In his grief-ridden mind, he was a wolf. A wolf taking revenge for fallen comrades. But all dreams must end, and suddenly, Hiro found himself in the clearing, empty except for the only five remaining wolves and about fifteen dead men. In a state of disbelief, Hiro searched the nearby woods for any chance that there was a wolf alive.
He found one.
Suddenly, Hiro was swept up by an elation that bubbled up from his toes and shot straight out through his head. Silver-Mane was alive. Sure he had an enormous sword wound down his side, but he was alive. Feeling tears welling up inside, Hiro begins to pet Silver-Mane all over, finding quite by accident his favorite place to be scratched.
Hiro reached down and felt the long scar down Silver-Mane’s left side. Quite a price to pay to find his favorite scratching spot. Silver-Mane seemed to think it was worth it, however simply by the look of pure contentment in his eyes.
Smiling, Hiro looked to the east. The sun had just left the Earth’s warm embrace. It was a new day, and the small ship was heading to a new island. Daijuu, the land of the Great-Beasts.
Life was starting to look up.
A wet nose on his hand alerted Hiro to Silver-Mane’s awakening. Smiling, Hiro began scratching him behind the ear, just like he used to while they were still on Dimoni Island. Casting his memory back, Hiro remembered the first time he had done as he was doing now.
It was a cold night, a night that made you just want to roll into a ball and shiver until morning came. But that was not an option, Hiro must get stronger, and to get stronger, one usually must eat. Tonight, the pack hunted, and Hiro with them. The oak of the bow yield to the muscles in his back with a familiar tension. Hiro slows his heart to a near stand-still in preparation to releasing the arrow at one of the deer lying on the moon-dappled ground.
But before he could signal the pack with the first arrow, there was trouble. The yip of a frightened wolf accompanied by a bright flash of light turned Hiro’s head. Something was wrong, very wrong. Almost immediately after having this thought, there were cries of dying wolves all around the clearing. In a panic, Hiro was spinning back and forth, looking for the one who would harm his pack. Then he saw.
Torches surrounded the clearing and men with katana were striking down his pack like wheat. Blowing sharply on his whistle, Hiro sounded the “rally to me” signal. A good dozen wolves remained who were able to make it to the circle forming around Hiro. Identifying each wolf in turn, Hiro’s heart filled with dread. Silver-Mane was nowhere to be seen.
A righteous rage filled him at the thought that these men would slaughter his pack. The pack had done nothing to them, so why? The pack was honorable, the pack was loving, the pack was everything that humans should be, but aren’t.
That night, Hiro killed his first human. And second. And many more. The shadows seemed to embrace him, outlining him with a mystic glow. On that night, he was Death. After his entire quiver was spent taking out any man who dared come into the clearing, Hiro got on all fours, not even bothering to draw his daggers and fought like the wolves.
In his grief-ridden mind, he was a wolf. A wolf taking revenge for fallen comrades. But all dreams must end, and suddenly, Hiro found himself in the clearing, empty except for the only five remaining wolves and about fifteen dead men. In a state of disbelief, Hiro searched the nearby woods for any chance that there was a wolf alive.
He found one.
Suddenly, Hiro was swept up by an elation that bubbled up from his toes and shot straight out through his head. Silver-Mane was alive. Sure he had an enormous sword wound down his side, but he was alive. Feeling tears welling up inside, Hiro begins to pet Silver-Mane all over, finding quite by accident his favorite place to be scratched.
Hiro reached down and felt the long scar down Silver-Mane’s left side. Quite a price to pay to find his favorite scratching spot. Silver-Mane seemed to think it was worth it, however simply by the look of pure contentment in his eyes.
Smiling, Hiro looked to the east. The sun had just left the Earth’s warm embrace. It was a new day, and the small ship was heading to a new island. Daijuu, the land of the Great-Beasts.
