10-15-2018, 10:54 AM
[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2; color:#000;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Gentle squeak, broken sound drawn from cracked lips, weight slight dangling from jaws that have grown tired. He had not thought this the outcome of such things, a life lead into the pits of despair ending within a trip where it might all end, but then he had found them. Huddled together, trembling as they murmured above the head of a child too young for all of this, barely able to comprehend anything. Fear had been present in wide blue eyes, soft sounds escaping, almost pleading in their want to understand. He knew not what made him speak up, voice breaking and shuddering, age clear within syllables that broke into rough coughs.
“I'm sorry child but this is as far as I go,” around cinnamon toned scruff words rise, body held jerking as though surprised, the one carrying them forgotten within the eddies of a young mind focused on only a few things. Well did he know the pain of a life lead within solitude, the loneliness that nipped at the heels as you ran, always trying to be one step ahead when no such chance was present to do so. He had promised them the child would be safe, given a chance they might never have, accepting though hesitance had been there. None of them wished to think of what might happen to the child, left in a cage until the day they had grown large enough to be used or sold, a pet for one who cared not for them but only the status such an exotic animal would bring.
Groan escaped as he placed the small bundle at the gate, drawn further into itself, faint shiver taking hold. All too small did it seem, the heavy weight of shackle about their wrist only adding to such, the skin beneath chaffed and raw from where it had rubbed. “You'll be safe here,” lie, half truth spun for ears that are deaf to such, can no more tell the sound apart and give them meaning then he can speak any sort of truth to them. The elder bore no knowledge of this place nor the people here, nothing but the scent they left speaking of their presence.
Reaching up he hit the bell as hard as he could, a solid strike that left it rocking before he was walking back over the tracks, pace quickening for he had no wish to meet those that would heed the bells song. They would be better off here where they might have shelter and food, someone to care for them, rather than an old man barely able to keep himself going. And so they waited, this tiny cub with cinnamon toned fur bearing a shackle engraved with CCLIV, restless in light sleep.
“I'm sorry child but this is as far as I go,” around cinnamon toned scruff words rise, body held jerking as though surprised, the one carrying them forgotten within the eddies of a young mind focused on only a few things. Well did he know the pain of a life lead within solitude, the loneliness that nipped at the heels as you ran, always trying to be one step ahead when no such chance was present to do so. He had promised them the child would be safe, given a chance they might never have, accepting though hesitance had been there. None of them wished to think of what might happen to the child, left in a cage until the day they had grown large enough to be used or sold, a pet for one who cared not for them but only the status such an exotic animal would bring.
Groan escaped as he placed the small bundle at the gate, drawn further into itself, faint shiver taking hold. All too small did it seem, the heavy weight of shackle about their wrist only adding to such, the skin beneath chaffed and raw from where it had rubbed. “You'll be safe here,” lie, half truth spun for ears that are deaf to such, can no more tell the sound apart and give them meaning then he can speak any sort of truth to them. The elder bore no knowledge of this place nor the people here, nothing but the scent they left speaking of their presence.
Reaching up he hit the bell as hard as he could, a solid strike that left it rocking before he was walking back over the tracks, pace quickening for he had no wish to meet those that would heed the bells song. They would be better off here where they might have shelter and food, someone to care for them, rather than an old man barely able to keep himself going. And so they waited, this tiny cub with cinnamon toned fur bearing a shackle engraved with CCLIV, restless in light sleep.