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Post by elvishnation on Dec 22, 2010 6:43:50 GMT -5
Howls of wolves haunting the air, echoing off the trees of a deep old forest. Where the myths and rumors become truth. Surrounded by the warm fur of the wolves she curls up, a young child with light blue eyes and long wavey silvery white hair.
Never alone she'd walk through the woods, every sort of animal walking beside her at some point. Greeting her and welcomeing her. She is nature. A part of it's beauty, a part of it's grace, seeing the world differently than all. Every so often, and over the years increasingly so. She would be caught at the land's edge and the water's beginning staring off towards another world.
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Post by elvishnation on Jan 26, 2011 9:14:51 GMT -5
They paced quickly through the woods, it was only the night before one of them fell. This new pack so young to outside the isle. Ran from their greatest foe. On one of the backs of the silvery wolves was the young elf. She kept low as they lead the pack. Howls rung through the trees, along with the howls of another breed. A breed terrifying and savage, with little control over themselves, the werewolves. Out numbered, yelps from more of them falling as some turned to fight. Fighting for the lives of the others. Blood sprayed from claws tearing into flesh, teeth snapping, and fierce growls, is what filled that night's air. The leading wolf with the small elf on back paused for a moment letting the elf slide off and they met eyes. Light blue eyes gazed into golden enchanted ones, one pair filled with fear and pain of a short few innocent years, the other panic and anger. The wolf snapped around quickly to face a werewolf bearing down on the two. The elf turned and took off. Running as fast as her legs could carry her, tears streak down her face as the dark woods swallowed her. In the distance she heard the result of the battle. A single howl reached out, breaking all silence, disturbing all life as the end draws near.
Few days pass as she wandered. Silently walking the trail. Truely alone for the first time ever, she calls out very softly hoping for an answer. She smells the air, the smell of blood still lingers. As she wonders is any still there. Her hunger grows as she is starved, but she endures. Softer yet she cries out once more, slowly becoming overwhelmed. Still there is no answer.
Curling up beside a tree she stares through the woods, listening to the silence. Slowly she hears the softest of sounds, breeze through the bushes, breath of the grass, spirits of the trees. They guide her to food and safe water. Embracing her with warmth. Led to a stream she cups her hands to have a drink. Her head turns up to meet the eyes of wolf. A lone wolf. It is unheard of a wolf on it's own surviving in the wilds, but this one was different. It's furr coat shimmered with unatural appearance, though comforting to her. She was led to other packs and other forests. As she grew she saw only the eyes at night, and then no more. She wondered often about that wolf. Wondering if she'd see it again.
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Post by elvishnation on Apr 16, 2012 1:34:11 GMT -5
Based loosely off this poem by Christine Lynn Renstrom I believe is the name.
SILENT PAWS
Silent paws trotting
on a well beaten trail
alone in the wilderness
so young and so frail. Little yips go unanswered,
the moon is now his guide,
looking for ones just like him
or have all of them just died? He sniffs the dampened ground
and senses man everywhere,
the silence is deafening
no howls in the air. Oh why did he venture
so far from his den,
while his pack fell silent
at the hand of men. His stomach is growling
but his hunger is endure,
his pack family is out there
it's their blood he smells for sure. He stops in his track
and raises his head up high,
the terror overwhelms him
as he let out another cry. But still there is no answer
he can understand why,
he follows their trail
or surely will die. For days now he traveled
his spirit and body gone weak,
he lies down in white clover
no more energy left to speak. Soon the soul hovers
over this tiny, frail pup,
whose future will now be guarded
as his soul travels up. What right does man have
to take life from a living thing,
that has no way to voice it's defense
against a human being? The wolf is a symbol,
a brother, a friend.
it is time now for action
before his existence comes to a end.
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Post by elvishnation on Apr 16, 2012 1:43:06 GMT -5
Sprinting through the woods by hoof and paw, soaring up through the trees, wings grazing leaves that go by, a free spirit amongst nature runs free. The old woods, and young woods all her home now. Misunderstood by many, watched over quietly by few. All so ignorant and blind in her eyes. Soft landing, silver hair sparkling a graceful small elf lands on the mossy ground. Where she came from only trees can tell. So little covering her fair skin, Dreamy stare she looks around her before curling up against a tree. One ear is laid against the bark, her lips form nothing but a smile to match the sparkling light blue eyes reflecting all light. Two wolves pad up to her one much larger than the other, she holds her hand out towards the smaller as it shifts forms into another elven kin. A union so beautiful and witnessed only by that of the wind, trees, and those that see all. Flowers blossom and reach to carry them both on their journey forward. She dances in circles, decorated with the blossoms and leaves, singing the soft elven druidic songs of nature in the elegant tongue of their people. Never ending youth she seems to have and hold dear to her, never fading innocence and purity. Uneffected, undented by the world she travels into often. The towns of man that try and bring her down for they never understand her wild freedom.
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Post by elvishnation on Apr 27, 2015 6:24:44 GMT -5
Through the old woods about Cormyr still the white wolf walks, standing proud when it pauses. Confident in it's stride through each wooded area. Always watching. Always waiting. More recently walking the bramble woods perhaps in search of something. Perhaps just as a symbol of something past.
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