Forsaken (Open)

[valkyrie]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i437.photobucket.com/albums/qq95/amanda1472/hawk2_zpsc456f551.png] Who could I be without the disaster that strikes in the past of my life? Perhaps I would be someone else, someone more approachable not so intimidating as I appear to be. Friendly and less chivalrous, rash similar to foolish kits. Ignorance would be the name given to me. How lucky am I to experience such harshness and brutal memories that shall not leave this mind. They formed me to the brute I am today, but is it the brute I could possibly ever be? Would life be different for me if I hadn't separated from Frost and Vladimir. So many "ifs" sped through the dog's mind yet he knew most of the outcomes or so he thought he did. The muscles of the short tom rippled under his thin coat with each step, head lowered past his shoulders almost as if he was attempting to find a scent. The swagger of his head moved with each of his paw steps, those massive rocks covered with short threads of fur moving in near silence. Obvious to any watchful eye his mind was lost in deep thought, a battle that had started from his childhood continued forth thought it was coming to an end or so it seemed. He could feel it “ending” - his mother relentless in the manner of insisting on a positive outlook on life. What was so positive about life anyways? Felines nowadays where so stereotypical they had this image of how a particular creature should act based strictly upon their personality. It was utterly baffling to the Tom. That those whom claimed to be these dark entities captured in this ‘shell’ thought running around looking like manged ridden idiots would scare others. The only thing to be scared of was worrying if you could catch their apparent stupid, or the mange they either had or would shortly form do to their lack of care. Let’s not forget the others ones. Oh no, the ones who seemed to prance around as if the world was nothing but a big buffet of happiness. That thought alone was enough to curl his stomach. How could someone possibly be that happy all the time? His mother had been wrong. The outlook on life Hawkfeather grumpily walked around with had been well deserved. Not that he saw himself as some, formidable example of what a creature of his species should be. However, he refused to walk around like some delusional bitten feline prancing, causing atrocity or lacking in personal hygiene. No. He was content being what most called him or saw him as – a grumpy old man trapped in a young body – why they saw him in such a manner was no surprise. Seeing as Hawkfeather refused to embrace the anew word blossoming around him. He didn’t want to be depressed like the trend that seemed to be set a couple years back. Nor did he want to float about acting as if he was pleased with the world all the time. But apparently thinking logically about everything was shunned and acting on pure emotion was now what ruled. It really disgusted him and was another factor to why he didn’t communicate his feelings well. His pacing had ceased as his gaze had taken to peering out at the grassland kissing the roots of the great oak softly yet urgently. Why he had even bothered the tedious task of maneuvering here had gone beyond him. So it would seem Bane had taken to casually walking around in some half acute state. But he had much to think about far too much. His real mother was alive. His constantly worried mother would be the idiot to try and find him. Alas if she happened to find themselves here he would only do what was best – that being ignore her completely – she had fallen subject to that not so glorious stereotypical life style. To some family was of importance. Not saying Hawkfeather wouldn't defend his family - no he would help when the time was right. But family to Hawkfeather had a slightly different meaning. He owed them his remaining family nothing, they owed him nothing or so his mother saw it that way. Abandoning him at kithood, but reunited when he was a mere adult. Leaving your only offspring alone to fend for their self was how they saw fit to raise him. “It was the only way” his mother had implored, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. It was the only way to get rid of him without murdering her own child, he knew she didn’t have the “heart” to be such a monster especially when she created the nuisance she wish to rid of. She hadn’t even thought to go off and search for him. He couldn’t be less apathetic towards the fact she had been forced into mating with the tom, it gave her no excuse; it didn’t swell pity for her within him. She brought about a force of what was tempted to be called hate into his body. No searching for the forsaken offspring, she left him in the forest hands at the age of 4 months. Assuming a female would appear and claim him to be hers. Unfortunately for him another female did such, Lilypond and she took on the role of a “mother figure”. She neglected him just as his natural mother; therefore the use of either was nothing more than a title. A title that rarely saved him from his foster fathers “training”. The irritation rose in his emerald orbs as his jaw clenched together and his lips formed into a hard thin line. He allowed his mother to believe no debts lay unpaid waiting for some trivial reason to come seek his aid. It was far better this way thus making solitude a welcomed friend. Perhaps the only one he really needed. Yet he needed more, he needed to feel needed. Thus why he was in a pack, he had to keep himself busy and hardwork was something he could easily accomplish. After all he'd risk his life for anyone he felt deserved it. The ears of the mixed tom flickered as few straws of grass whisked up being carried carefully by the soft wind flushed over his body. His thoughts seem to be the only thing he was stuck in but that would be foolish to think so, despite his concentration on questions he purposed often to himself he was well aware of the movements around him. He could tell from the rustling of the grass that a rat who called the warm grass its haven was now squirming out. It was like a mother to pup, the warmth of the mother's belly was exactly the comfort it needed to fall soundlessly asleep despite the noise the crept to life at night. That was another thing he never had and made his brows furrow with slight bitterness. Perhaps my anguish is the gate to knowledge I desire. We all have a price to pay whether we want to or not, thought the tom as he steadied himself to his haunches. He knew he had much more to worry about than himself but perhaps for once he could over-look his life. Maybe just this once only for the moment. ---------------- Words: 1,219 Muse: High Notes: Hehe I got hyper

[/blockquote][/color][/blockquote]
[/td][/tr][tr][td]

[/td][/tr][/table][/center]