water and glass - Printable Version

Ankh had followed the trailing shoreline for several hours until the sun was beginning to set low in the sky and had illuminated the ocean in various shades of burning orange and vibrant yellows. His limbs were sore from days of Godless wandering. The wolfdog’s patience was thinning with each passing hour and each thoughtful prayer that fell on deaf ears. Ankh had never known the great Gods to be so silent. Surely, they would not leave their Pharaoh to such aimlessness. The pale creature bent his neck towards the sandy surface of the earth and huffed a deep sigh. His light golden eyes sought the figure of another, but the only creatures he had seen had been a few loners and a sea-bound lion. Ankh was no stranger to silence; many times in his homeland, he had spent hours in mediation with his siblings and none of them had uttered a word. This dead air was becoming unbearable, all the same. He trailed ahead, stiff-limbed, until a strange scent wafted across his nose and the young wolfdog felt his heart begin to beat rapidly. Markings lined the borders of an oceanic pack. Ankh lowered his head and drew in the scent from the earth, breathing a sigh of relief.
Pacing forward, the pallid Pharaoh’s eyes sought the image of another wolf on the other side of the borders. His nails scuffed against the sands in his impatience. His champagne-colored gaze darted from the waters to the sandy banks. He had noted that the markings were not as strong as most would have been. They were either very new, or they were fading away. Flicking his thin tail upwards, Ankh looked to the sky in prayer for the appearance of another creature. The solitude was doing the Pharaoh no good.