[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 550px; padding-bottom: 17px; overflow: stretch; border-bottom: 2px dashed;"]Inhale after inhale. She was stuck in the repetitive state, unable to let the rising pressure in her chest release. Hyperventilating. You're hyperventilating. Exhale. Let it go. The wolf shot up from the bank of white sands, amber eyes wild and panicked as she finally breathed out, her body thinning and then expanding as she gasped for air. Her rich brown coat was drenched in sweat, in salt water, in a thick cake of blood.
Snout sniffed at the wound on her hind leg, her ears lay flat on her head. The injury had stopped bleeding, and it wasn't necessarily life threatening, but ... she felt like hell. The she-wolf shut her eyes, wishing away the pounding headache she had. When she opened her honey eyes, she finally took in her surroundings for the first time. Suddenly, her exhaustion settled, and she was awake- bruised and bumped around, but awake.
"Where in the ..." She swallowed, head tilting towards the stone wall entrance ahead of her. For a moment, she was completely astounded and disoriented, but then the memories came rushing back. She was running away from somewhere ... here to the Typhoon ... to join ... to escape to the water. Rochelle sighed, then breathed in the scent of the brine and the tropics. There was comfort to it, the hot sun clinging to her dark pelt and the touch of sand in between the pads of her paws.
The wolf now stepped closer, her pace almost a saunter, if it weren't for the slight limp she had now from that nice wound on her leg. She would need to dress that once she settled in. Shaking off her last bits of panic and confusion, she paused near the entrance way. "Hello, my name is Rochelle and I'm joining the Typhoon." Her message came off seriously, though her tone was full of warmth and formality. Rochelle had told herself that this time it would all be different ... that she would not shy away from what she yearned ... that she would be free.
Snout sniffed at the wound on her hind leg, her ears lay flat on her head. The injury had stopped bleeding, and it wasn't necessarily life threatening, but ... she felt like hell. The she-wolf shut her eyes, wishing away the pounding headache she had. When she opened her honey eyes, she finally took in her surroundings for the first time. Suddenly, her exhaustion settled, and she was awake- bruised and bumped around, but awake.
"Where in the ..." She swallowed, head tilting towards the stone wall entrance ahead of her. For a moment, she was completely astounded and disoriented, but then the memories came rushing back. She was running away from somewhere ... here to the Typhoon ... to join ... to escape to the water. Rochelle sighed, then breathed in the scent of the brine and the tropics. There was comfort to it, the hot sun clinging to her dark pelt and the touch of sand in between the pads of her paws.
The wolf now stepped closer, her pace almost a saunter, if it weren't for the slight limp she had now from that nice wound on her leg. She would need to dress that once she settled in. Shaking off her last bits of panic and confusion, she paused near the entrance way. "Hello, my name is Rochelle and I'm joining the Typhoon." Her message came off seriously, though her tone was full of warmth and formality. Rochelle had told herself that this time it would all be different ... that she would not shy away from what she yearned ... that she would be free.
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ain't it a gentle sound the rolling in the grave
[size=8pt]ain't it like thunder under earth the sound it makes ⋆ tags
ain't it a gentle sound the rolling in the grave
[size=8pt]ain't it like thunder under earth the sound it makes ⋆ tags