(Alright...thus far we have uber high fantasy, traditional lore, and quasi-demonic entities tearing through the space-time continum...I'll try being normal (modern day) and see where that gets me? Feel free to give me a calibratory *whack* if you've the need, Noekh. ) :twisted:
Alex was hoofing it across the moderately broken terrain of forest, his footfalls soft against the rich earth - he'd been waiting for something like this for a while.
The rush of the evening's cool air swept the mountainside the fox hiked up, his russet-red fur wet and clinging in little spined mats to itself as he had needed to swim across one river already. The warm-weather utility pants he wore had shead most of the water they had taken on, and the technical tank-top he sported was doing a good job at keeping him warm, while whicking away the moisture from his wet fur; thank the stars for technology. There were some burrs in his fur that he'd have to take care of later, but the small twigs and spots of mud were far from on his mind - he had a mountain to conquer. His breath was controlled, his blue eyes ever forward, looking toward the summit as his legs pumped in a steady, methodical gait - he was pacing himself.
Being a mercenary was a sort of outcast profession, in that not many people actually knew a mercenary as a mercenary. Those that did tended to have money, and lots of it - but few, if any of them, were friends. 'Jobs' weren't a problem after the first one, typically, and life was an almost alarming shade of simple for what it held. But, Alex had just returned from a job not two days ago. His stipend was already sitting comfortably in his checking account, but his mind was far from at-ease - he needed a challenge still.
Riiiiiiiiiiiip! That is what the three days of his nerves being on a razor's edge were primed for - those two little seconds in which a full thrity bullets were loosed at one target, one target of opportunity, and one unlucky as well as innocent bystander.
The fox's slender, though hard frame darted quickly from turn to turn, following the trail up the mountain, the feel of fresh adreanline and an honest tinge of exhaustion in his hot lungs a good one. It was slow in replacing the phantom tension of breathless waiting, the imminent threat of discovery when he was battling with sleep to stay alert, and alive, though the running han won out this time - the fox felt good as the tension left him with each leap and bound through the steeply sweeping forest. No radio or MP3 player was going to spoil this moment, it was simply a beautiful night, hosting a cool, fresh wind, and a lush verdant backdrop to ease his taut senses. It was beautiful.
The breeze picked up a little as Alex drew higher upon the mountain's summit, the air bearing with it the weight of fresh water, and in kind a lulling refreshedness. Still Alex fought against himself, pushing the boundaries his mind set on his body. Presently, his butt-pack felt like it was dragging him down each time it's weight fell back on his hips, and even something so small as his wristwatch felt heavy. The small, sturdy hunting knife at his side felt heavier the longer he ran on, and the distant though growing roar of a waterfall up ahead seemed to press him back in some invisible way - though he did not stop until in one breathy gasp he locked his paws behind his head, sucking in air in deep gasps as he stood in a lush grassy clearing alongside a river and just downstream of the roaring waterfall, the faint feeling of stray gusts of mist falling on his fur a cold tingle amidst a wash of burning exertion.
With a soft grin, Alex closed his blue eyes, sinking to his knees, the feeling strangely plesant as his lean though solid frame heaved slightly with his breath's effort. Then, he heard it.
A howl, brilliant and sorrowful in the same kind gripped the night air above the roar of the waterfall, posessive, yet gentle, followed by a sudden warmth of white light further upstream. What the shit is that? Though completely foreign to him, Alex was surprised that he, himself, didn't feel threatened. The light was gentle, hardly offending his eyes though it was a plesant evening, and almost warm in a way, though it was far off. For a few quiet moments he simply watched, trying to discern the source of the light, his breathing slowing to normal as he did.
At length, the light dissapated, and acting upon the stirring inside of him, Alex began walking toward the light, his russet and white tail sweeping softly at the grass beneath him, his black-tipped ears listening and curious. The young fox wasn't transfixed, he simply felt a humblingly gentle peace when he saw the light, and being honest with himself, he wanted to experience it again, if nothing else. The get-away from what he called life was nice, but something almost primal within him told him that he could find greater release, if he simply looked.
