Phantom Hollow There can be only Two (For my little Chicken Pox <3)

Blood born...

            ...that's what they called him. To a wandering traveler perhaps that held some appeal as if it was the feat of a hunter claiming his brood would be strong or perhaps a near ritualistic rite of passage that portrayed few pups surviving birth. Paint the picture how one sees fit yet understand the truth... -he was damned from the start.

Memory...
They named him Makaro as it was his mother's final wish yet in her death came the realization of ill omens to come. 

By the time his eyes opened to glimpse the world his wet nurse howled in terror to rouse the pack at the sight she beheld. A pup with eyes that matched the blood moon set inside a coat of pitch. If there was ever a need to kill their own to allow the Spirits to leave their pack be then it was that night that they all sat around the Alpha begging his fate be sealed, Makaro's fate. Be it pity or perhaps mercy fallen on the pup from a dearly departed Mother the murder of youth went unsatisfied by their Alpha's order. -Perhaps that was the beginning of the end after all...

Makaro didn't quite know what happened on that fate filled day... or who struck first but it was sudden, swift, and without mercy. 

A rival pack took its time in patience as the hunting party left the den all for one chance to divide the pack and take out as many as possible. Luck or a gift from the beyond saw the fruits of their labor rewarded as blood split upon the green pastures. All Makaro knew was that his wet-nurse suddenly warned all the pups to seek the safety of the tree roots before she was overwhelmed. He could still hear her cries of defeat, see the cruelty the invaders inflicted, watched as den brothers and sisters were made sport of. -Given their 'chance' to flee or fight before scooped up into the jaws of fate like a wild hare then spat out again to be laughed at. It was that agony the pack sought to bring the Alpha and his hunting party back to face them and it all would start all over, -then start again it did. 

Blood... Makaro watched his Alpha ripped away slowly. Fangs buried into the creatures legs to sever tendons so he would be powerless to watch his brood die right in front of him. Makaro was next on their list... -saved for this moment Makaro stood his ground, at first, planting his paws to better dig into the dirt, "Courage!" One scoffed, "Sad, how must it feel to know only your pups hold it when its far removed from yourself."

"I'm not afraid of you!" Makaro defiantly squeaked, "Pity... its more fun when they are..."

Makaro was no hero nor a match for these dogs when one unceremoniously plucked Makaro from the ground in his jaws. The black pup became propelled, airborne, falling to the ground with a thud and a cry. His back right leg twisting unable to right itself before pulled up again and tossed. Laughter saved him... -these mongrels were here for the Alpha not what wouldn't survive the Night. So of course when Makaro's Alpha closed his eyes and departed this world it came to no surprise that the victorious simply marked him with the hike of their legs then left the creature to certain doom... -that was Makaro's story, this was his end or at least... -how it should have ended.

The Night... it found Makaro with a chilling embrace. Shadows born of fear plagued him or perhaps pushed him to this place... this darkened land all too far removed from his home. His own blood now hardened and dirtied his pelt nearly sealing one eye completely. Not certain of what to do or where to go he simply chose a direction and limped along. 

Now on the edge of his ultimate end he, at last, grew tired and sat down to await fate. Was it his fate to die?

....that decision ultimately fell to another. -Who would surely know when his territory welcomed a visitor, one whom was known as the Nightmare King.