Post by Lincoln on Apr 22, 2018 7:37:27 GMT
 | if i'm a danger to myself Just think what I could do to you Tag: Luna |
Leaves and twigs whipped at his person as he weaved in between the trees, and his footfalls were surprisingly quiet as he bounded over gnarled roots and fallen branches. Lincoln had been hunting a panther, following its soft paw prints in the foliage when its path had crossed with the trail of another human. This wasn't an unexpected revelation but still displeased him.
Lincoln was not without compassion. He was wild and untamed, much like the forests he called home but he was also kind and gentle, not at all willing to let someone die if he could prevent it. Lincoln pushed himself to move faster, running until his lungs burned and his legs felt like jello. He ran until he reached a clearing and there he saw the panther stalking toward its prey—a young girl, close to his age, maybe twelve or thirteen.
She was facing the animal, backing away slowly, limping. Lincoln was sure she was hurt, whether from the panther or something else he didn't know. He took a breath to steady himself and tightened his grip on his spear; he was a warrior, a hunter, trained for moments like this; his aim would be true.
Lincoln drew back and hurled the weapon, and watched as it flew through the air. The tip sank deep into the panthers back, between the shoulder blades. The animal fell to the ground in a heap, breathing heavily, keening in pain, and struggling weakly. For a moment he felt regret, felt sympathy for the animal but pushed those feelings aside as he went to the girls side.
Lincoln was not without compassion. He was wild and untamed, much like the forests he called home but he was also kind and gentle, not at all willing to let someone die if he could prevent it. Lincoln pushed himself to move faster, running until his lungs burned and his legs felt like jello. He ran until he reached a clearing and there he saw the panther stalking toward its prey—a young girl, close to his age, maybe twelve or thirteen.
She was facing the animal, backing away slowly, limping. Lincoln was sure she was hurt, whether from the panther or something else he didn't know. He took a breath to steady himself and tightened his grip on his spear; he was a warrior, a hunter, trained for moments like this; his aim would be true.
Lincoln drew back and hurled the weapon, and watched as it flew through the air. The tip sank deep into the panthers back, between the shoulder blades. The animal fell to the ground in a heap, breathing heavily, keening in pain, and struggling weakly. For a moment he felt regret, felt sympathy for the animal but pushed those feelings aside as he went to the girls side.
He held his hands up as he approached her. "Ai laik linkon kom tri kru. Yu ste laksen." He was surprised by the color of the blood staining her clothes. Black. Why was it black?
