Aug 25, 2014 3:03:20 GMT -5
Post by Dakki on Aug 25, 2014 3:03:20 GMT -5
Cold. Cold. Cold.
It was all he felt, all he could ever feel. He was just entertaining himself, knowing that his time would come sooner than most wolves. Who was he kidding, trying to act like a normal being? He was far from the average wolf, and yet... here he was. Breathing -- somewhat. He was careful not to go running, although the air was crisp and it called to him. Taking in as deep as a breath as he could, he coughed and hacked up a ball of mucus, blood staining the earth where he spat. Shaking, he stepped around it, trying not to look at what would soon be his death. There was no chance that Coltrane would die of old age. He was already five years old, yet he knew that he only had a few years left. How limited his life was on this earth, and yet he kept himself hidden away, tucked away from all others. He did not wish for other wolves to get close to him, he didn't want them to watch the life slowly ebb out of his body. He had little spirit left, because what was the point on trying hard at a game that you couldn't win? He watched all the males in his family die of Cystic Fibrosis, he was the so called lucky one because his symptoms didn't show until he was two years old. That bought him a little more time -- a few precious years to life out this pathetic life.
One would think that Coltrane would wish to embrace life to the fullest, but he had only been familiar with the darkness that came with the light. Poison seeped into his lungs, choking him with his own fluids. He was not a wolf, he was a dying animal. Food was no use, no matter how much he ate, the build up of mucus in his digestive track made it very hard for him to gather any nutrients from it at all. So he just stopped hunting, it took too much energy away from the sickly boy anyways. Shivering, the nomad roamed on, never lingering in one place for too long. It had done him good so far, he had yet to run into another wolf that he was not able to hide from. Conversations were pointless things, he often hid or even tried to scare the wolf away. All the better, what was the use to get close to a shriveling soul? They would only mourn his loss as he had for his family, it was much more simple to just crawl into a corner to die where no one knew your name.
Ravensbruck had been his home for about a year now, he was beginning to understand the pattern of the wolves who roamed here. Taking that information, he then used it to best avoid them, warding off any wayward kind souls that wished to 'cure' him. There were no herbs or remedies that could fix him, perhaps prolong his death for a few measly hours. It wasn't like he had anyone left that he wanted to say good-bye two, his sisters were better off living a normal life. Although that curse sat dormant in their wombs, ready to infect their sons. He wouldn't be surprised if they avoided having pups at all, he knew that he didn't want to. Why pass on this toxin to a little one? He didn't want anyone to have to go through what he was, not even on his worst enemy. To know that your days are limited is not a blessing, its a curse -- one that he had to forever walk with.
Wheezing slightly, the multi-hued male knew that it was time to take a break. Trying to draw in deep breaths, he flopped on to his side, mouth opened wide as he greedily sucked as much oxygen into his lungs as he could, trying to feed his body of the gas. He had walked too far this time, pushing himself to his limits. If he didn't stop doing that, his time would grow shorter still. But why prolong this pain? It would be so much easier if he just ended it now, jumping off a cliff or something. But there was still something that kept him bound to the earth, for whatever reason he wanted to live to the end of his days. Golden eyes rolled as he scoffed at his own thoughts, sickly thin side heaving beneath his thick fur as he tried to regain his breath.
"Talk like this."