Wolf RPG

@Raheerah

The trees had settled hours ago, when the sky was streaked with pale light and stringy clouds. Days, maybe. The earth was no longer a monumental beast unto itself. It rested with baited breath across the once proud trees; with reaching arms they held the mountain firmly in place. The new mountain. Branches twined between the trunks of some growths or were forced headlong in to the mud, where they stuck out awkward and irregular. Ice and snow had settled too. Streaked with grime and debris, sinking in some places and hardening in others. But she was oblivious to all of this. The body amongst the ruins. The lamb who had escaped slaughter.

Beneath the ruins of wherever-this-was, lost in the stark black of the darkness and desperate for air. This was what she woke up to. The only difference between the darkness now and the darkness before the mountain collapsed was the air flow; there was no breeze here. No room to move. Pieces of debris held Dawa in place, and the touch was constant. The pain that thrilled her skin was endless fire, but she could barely catch enough air to breathe let alone alert any other survivors.

Was that what she was? A survivor.

The mountain had come down. It was a kingdom in ruins. A haven which attacked it's own inhabitants. Somehow the delicate woman had survived it all - and she thought about this while sitting in the dark, while waves of pain caused her to meekly wretch and gasp.

Hours? Days. Hunger buried beneath the angry nerves within her skin.

The ice melted slowly, but this was to be her saving grace. A chunk of it fell through the gaps of her prison and slid like a calming tongue upon her back. The hole left behind brought in fresh air and a sense of peace. I will die here, finally, the woman thought - unaware of how dire her situation truly was, and simply hoping for a logical conclusion. I will die here and everything will be over.

Dawa would go in to the darkness and be at peace. It was all she thought of - and for once, her imagination did come alive. The darkness began to seep around her. Like the murk of a great lake, it swap to the opening above her head - so far away, too far to climb, she would muse before laying prone again - and the darkness blocked out the light. As the girl slipped in to a dangerous unconscious state her face gave a twist, a twitch, and she smiled.

After a brief pause by the will of his mate, Raheerah had continued searching. He would not give up - she knew this, the rest of the Vale knew this. The dragon had come too far to allow his Lham to die beneath the snows now. He had finally been given his freedom and been blessed with the greatest gift, protecting her, as he was destined to. He could not throw that gift aside. Every day, he was grateful for her. Every day he wished she could understand the satisfaction that arose from the moment he had been set free, and had to kill, tearing his way through the monks in order for their escape. It was what he was meant to do - kill for her. He would do anything, whether or not it be the death of him, and that meant searching for her relentlessly until he did find her.

Sometimes, he wondered if this was but a test. Had his loyalty to her wavered since meeting Xi'nuata? The beast had not thought so; they were held in two different realms. Lham existed as ethereal to him, in a plane beyond the comprehension of mortals. Xi'nuata occupied the life that he could touch, smell, taste. He held them in two separate regards, but still he feared that Lham had only gotten lost to assure his undying faith in her. These thoughts occupied his head as he scoured the debris still, poking through clumps of snow. His muscles had since grown with aches and he was tired, so tired; each step was a forceful push up the crest of the mountain, but he did so with determination.

He was far from believing it was a lost cause. No, Raheerah would never give up; every waking moment he believed that he could very well find his Lham right then and there. And, as if by some miracle, it was that moment that he did catch the faintest whiff of her scent. A taste that floated just barely on the breeze would instantly cause his head to jerk up, lips peel back as he drank it in. Just as quickly, it was gone, but he knew he had smelled it. Raheerah uttered a guttural bellow, baying deeply into the air as he charged forward. Somewhere beneath the snow was his Lham...

There she was. He caught the scent again, emerging from a small hole in the snow, like visible vapors whisping into the cold atmosphere. He had skidded to a halt and without so much as a breath he dove towards the whole, excavating the nearly frozen body within. From the darkness she was revealed, finally; her small body was fractured, broken and bleeding. It was as if something had blossomed within him. Some relief, ecstatic alleviation that at long last he had uncovered her. "Lhhaamm." He spilled, sniffing anxiously at her form. There was still warmth, though she was unconscious. Raheerah grunted and hovered above her. Could he touch her? Would she allow him this moment of reprieve to draw her from the hole? The dragon rumbled and examined what he had uncovered of the woman, deciding to try and wake her first. He leaned back and uttered a long howl, mixed somewhere between victory and desperation still, calling forth others if they should choose to help. Then, he returned to Lham; his heart pounded uncontrollably in his chest and he stared down at her. "Waaake. Lhhaaamm. I aam heeerrree." The beast's voice dropped, eager to see her open her unseeing eyes.

_{just mentioning him, he's still at chenrezig :')}

There were muffled sounds around him but he registered none of them. He had started to wake, mentally; he could pick out his injuries and assess them but he could not move. He could not even open his eyes. The monk slowly began to make a list of what the Dragon had done to him: bruised, possibly broken ribs; possible concussion; a gash on his cheek which stung in the dirt; multiple other lacerations; torn paw pads; bruised spine. Though he was exceptionally well kept for his age, he was eight. He couldn't sustain injuries like this for much longer. If the Dragon chose to rampage again, Tenzin would surely die because of it.

And his throat! A pained sigh wheezed through the bruised muscles as he tried to move and assess them. He was still breathing and therefore the Dragon had not punctured anything vital there, but Tenzin would be lying if he said it wasn't anything to worry about. Eating would be painful for some time judging by how painful breathing was. It felt as if there were a jagged rock in his throat, lodged there and blocking his breathing. The best thing he could do right now was wait. He could feel his body laying oddly across the roots of Chenrezig but could do nothing about it.

Dawa, he thought, sadness welling up within him where emotions were usually locked away. He did not show love, sadness, or hatred as a monk. He was simply a being put into the world to help others, and he had failed. He began to wonder where the rest of the Vale wolves were. He remembered seeing Acacia and Xi'nuata, but Larch? Leatherface? Zombie? And what of Ayvo or Velox? There were so many missing. My brothers, my sisters, his mind pained as he tried to sink once again into the blackness. He would not die from his injuries, so it was okay to go back to sleep...

A roar of a howl rumbled through the Vale. It echoed within Chenrezig and Tenzin was able to twitch his ear up to catch it. That awful sound could only belong to one creature: the Dragon. It had found Dawa and she was alive. Time had not been something the monk was aware of. Nobody had moved him and it was probably for the better, as they were not aware of the extent of his injuries. But, Dawa wasn't someone who could afford to lay and wait for death. The Dragon's call subsided and Tenzin found himself quivering.

As a monk, he was devoted to a life of solitude - no mate, no children. Dawa had been born of a promise: Tenzin swore to her mother that he'd look after her, but nobody had prepared themselves for the Dragon. Tragically, the creature had become one with anger. It had become anger's servant. When the monk took Dawa in as his sickly charge, he did not intend to grow so close to her, but she truly felt like his daughter after all this time. Finally, they had found a paradise for her, but even the Vale held dangers he could not save her from. Where he thought she may be dead, he knew she was alive now, and relief flooded him in painful gasps.

Had he been well, he would have laughed at himself for crying. But today, the elder monk wept in happiness knowing Dawa was alive. He curled his body into a broken doughnut shape and let himself cry painfully, quietly.

Bzod pa sgom, he asked of his gods, nga bsun po yin.

Her body remained hidden for some time. Locked away beneath the rubble with limbs pinned - she didn't know this was the truth, only that there was no feeling from her rear legs except for the searing heat of touch that refused to budge. Even now, as she lingered in a false sleep, Dawa could feel it. She dreamed in colour for the first time in many years; flashes of red and gold, outlines of faces she could not really recognize. The memory of Tenzin when he was younger. Before everything had come to pass and ruin her - before the dragon and his gaping maw, gnashing teeth, and eagerness to rend her to pieces.

"Lhhaaam," Someone from the darkness drawled; the voice barely permeated in to the girl's busy mind, but new images did surface. Of the monks in prayer, the clerics of Jokhang mingling with them. Of peace and prosperity. All of their faces were empty black pits and all of their bodies passed her by without acknowledgement; Dawa wined in her dream and the sound somehow passed through her gritted teeth in reality. "Waaake. Lhhaaamm. I aam heeerrree."

It was not the words that roused her from her slumber. They prodded at her from afar - a child with a stick, probing a dead body for the first time. Curious and disgusted. The dragon's voice was a triumphant roar in to the heavens, rolling and breaking across the very clouds; the sound carried far but it did more than that. It punched through her dreaming, grabbed at her as if alive, and dragged her back out again. Dawa murmured weakly as she came-to again. It was brief, but she was able to lift her head and stare in to the darkness that the dragon cast - seeing nothing, but catching the barest light upon her white eyes. "Stuck," she wheezed, and instantly felt nausea roll through her belly and rest in the back of her throat. It was too much. Too much.

His smell was there, suddenly. Mixing with the smell of her accidental tomb that had been uncovered. With the blood that was suddenly just as intense as everything else. The girl's eyes narrowed as if to scrutinize the darkness, and for a moment in her mindless state she thought she saw - a flicker of fire maybe, and outline of the damned beast. "Rah," She cooed by way of identification, before growing too tired to speak; her dry tongue would no longer issue words, and she plopped her head down against her crooked paws beneath.

He held his breath, for fear that the perhaps he had caught her on the fringe of life and death, for fear that he was too late. Had she passed during his search, it would mean failure. It would mean that Raheerah was not as loyal to his beloved Lham as he made himself out to be; it would mean that the monk had won, because he didn't love her as much as Tenzin did. But that would not be the case today, no. He would wrench her from the darkness. He would breathe life into her, somehow; because in his shadow, she suddenly shifted, and grasped for life once more. He felt his skin roll with chills as she raised her head and stared into the nothingness of his darkness.

She croaked her situation, but Raheerah was still in awe of all the relief and pleasure that came washing in at the sight of her moving. She was alive. He had made it in time. Now it was simply a matter of removing her. But she said she was stuck. Still his heart was beating faster than normal; the blood was rushing in his ears as he looked her over. He could not touch her. But she was struck - he would have to save his Goddess from the prison the debris had created for her.

When she forced part of his name into the air, a guttural whine emitted from his throat. He paced in front of her, debating whether or not he could hold her. It should be unquestionable. He needed to free her, but he did not desire to cast more pain upon her. The dragon moved to her side, then circled and paced to the other, single eye transfixed on the coywolf trapped beneath the snow. Finally, he made his decision. He paused, grunted, and began to desperately clear the snow away from her body. He disposed of it in large clumps, shoveling it away from her, taking extra care not to graze her fragile form. Once he had cleared the majority of it, or what he could get without causing more snow to collapse on top of her, he stopped in front of her.

Raheerah was stopped by only a fleeting hesitation before he lunged at her, wrapping his jaws around the back of her neck and pulling her free from the tomb. It took very little of his strength, for he was large and powerful and she less than half his size; with ease he removed her and released her in frantic urgency, laying her on the snow before him. He could only press back his ears and lick his nose, adopting an apologetic posture for sullying her mortal vessel with his fangs.

This mortal vessel which Raheerah heralded with such a vigorous faith was finally at a point of ruination that could not be undone. This was fact. The way she could not feel anything from her hips down was a great and terrible sign but also a sort of relief, for many things lay prone upon her, not including a high pile of packed snow. At first Dawa thought she was numb because of the frigidity of it; but then as Raheerah dutifully grabbed her nape and wrenched her free, there was still nothing. It was possible that his toothy grasp distracted her senses. The dragon's touch made a searing heat permeate her skin upon contact. He released and she was draped across the open ground; sinking only slightly where the snow and soil met, becoming slush and mud. The pain made her wince and press her face down low. Chin dragged for a brief interval upon the ground before that sensation brought it up again. The beast's whine caught in her ears and she focused on his emotional turmoil, for the sound, bittersweet as it may have been, gave her something to hold on to.

When her skin had calmed and the nerves no longer protested, the woman simply sat. The wind pried between them briefly and Dawa shuddered with the cold, but it was here that she realized there was no feeling. He had indeed pulled her free, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Had Dawa been able, she would have seen it. The crookedness of her lower back, now set to match the rest of her. Rear legs splayed out without any sense. Halfway down the length of her ruddy coyote tail there was only red, which soaked and spread through the snow behind her. A part was missing, but still she felt no pain from the loss. Dawa remained oblivious of these new wounds - except for the stench of blood that was swiftly picked up and tossed around the pair.

Naturally, the healer felt a need to fix. She fumbled with her body, wanting to move closer to Raheerah and inspect him. Her nose briefly brushed through his thick fur. He was too far away and Dawa could not close the gap. "Blood?" She queried with a sharp-pitched sound behind the meat of her cheeks; "-the avalanche," she sputtered with the realization of it. How many had they lost? Her mouth was dry but Dawa had to ask - "How many?" - even if her questions made little sense in her current state.

Having hovered in a crouch, once she had nestled on the ground, Raheerah pulled himself back into his normal posture. He lingered closer to her, but still did not touch her, protectively coiling around her mangled body. His gaze reached out to her, to see the twistedness of her spine and the uselessness of her legs behind her. She would be unable to move, at least, that was his diagnosis; legs like that he had only seen in cripples, rendered motionless by the loss of control in their limbs. Her tail, too, was missing half of it; as if the snow had tried to slough off her lower half, succeeding only in the sensation of it. It pained him further. He wondered if this was some punishment for his latency in finding her. He should not have let Xi'nuata hold his attention for so long.

Suddenly she moved in close, pressing her nose into his fur, but only barely. His gaze snapped back down to her muzzle, realizing that she could only drag herself closer to him without the use of her hind legs. He inched closer to her, allowing her to make the contact she had yearned for before, biting back the guilt that would swell in him. A collection of disjointed words flew out of her mouth, forcing the dragon to furrow his brow and attempt to piece together meaning for them. "Xi'nuataaa. Acaaciiaa. The monk." He spoke the word with audible distaste. "Theeey escaaped. Iii uncoverreed Laaarch, as wellll. Iiin my search for yoouu." No semblance of regret or sorrow would tint his words as he spoke of the avalanche. He lacked it, as he lacked joy and love; he cared little for the survival of others, despite knowing he should. "Thaaat is aaall." He added stoicly.

The beast wrinkled his nose, glancing once more at her hind end to follow up on her first observation. "Bloood, yes." Raheerah confirmed. "Yoouur blood." He twitched his lips into a frown and fixed his gaze back on the empty stare of his Goddess, pushing forward another whine.

There was little indication that Dawa felt anything akin to care for the names that were stated, although she did breathe a bit heavier at the mention of the monk; the thought of Tenzin even slightly injured was not something she had considered, and the mental image was withheld from her, as it often was. Still, she eased a pitiful whine from her heavy chest for him. The other names slipped on through her ears without a response, as she was beginning to drift. Exhausted and horribly disfigured by her wounds, Dawa was technically in a state of shock.

"Blood, yes." He rumbled, vibrating the earth upon which she sat, and the woman lethargically tried to shift her position. Her legs remained numb. "Yoouur blood."

This news was unsettling, and though Dawa could not place the sickening twist within her gut as any identifiable emotion, she still managed to feel it. Suddenly slack-jawed. It felt like her mind was filling with water, and with a cow-eyed stare she blinked away the wetness that sprang to life upon the pale pearls of her vision. Sadness? Grief? No, she did not experience these things. The tears that spilled forth were a physical manifestation of her shock and utter confusion.

A line of fluid creased a dark trail along her cheek, and then canted to a point upon her chin. Following the path of least resistance upon the crooked surface. "Tell me," she ordered with a personally unnatural insistence, "...tell me what is wrong." The cleric was a victim of circumstance; but she was still a cleric, and logic demanded that she diagnose the error of her body in some manner.

If that meant hearing a detailed description, so be it. Dawa closed the lids across her eyes and attempted to clear the wet feeling from her face, and then with a sudden lift of her head, stared directly at Raheerah's darkness. As if she could see in to him despite being level with his chest. She had to know.

Judging by the way her shoulders began to slump, there was only so much energy left within her. Soon Dawa would be asleep again, and it would be time for Raheerah to take her somewhere safe.

RIP Dawa

Raheerah

Tenzin

RIP Dawa

Raheerah

RIP Dawa

Raheerah

RIP Dawa