Copyright

I am flattered that some feel my creative writing is entertaining enough to want to share with others. These stories, however, are a labor of love and are ever evolving. Direct copying of any of these stories would not be flattering at all. If you would like to share with others you may copy a portion of a story and then link to the original here. Thank you for understanding.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Owakeri's Autobiography - Entry 17

The old tauren slept fitfully on the rug in his tent, unaware of the presence of any of his family, his bear form mostly still except for his deep breathing and occassional twitching. Anyone listening closely might hear his bear grumblings, almost coherant.

The mist clung to everything, a fog that did not choke, but obscured his vision and gave the illusion of being submerged. With each breath he felt as though the mist -would- begin to choke him, but he stayed put and resisted the urge to brush at his face to dislodge the intangible. He was not still, a still figure in the living wood stands out too much, he swayed slightly with the bowing trees, his fur washed in waves over him as the breezes shifted over his bear form.

He had been in one position too long, the -entity- tracking him would soon be upon him. The urge to run was strong, his massive paws tensed, his claws digging into the mossy forest floor. If he ran there would be no turning back, his passing would be obvious. If only he could remember... there was another animal, a creature... the bear huffed soundlessly in frustration.

The sleeping bear groaned and rolled over in his sleep, pawing at the ground in agitation. His massive claws tore at the rug, digging into the earth below.

The fog dampened and distored and in some cases amplified sounds, the noises made by his pursuer were close, far, warped, close again. The old bear closed his eyes and tried to concentrate and focus his mind. His body slowly began to morph, the dark brown fur shortening and taking a lighter tawny color... his hulking shoulders narrowing, shrinking to match his much smaller waist. The rugged appearance of the bear slowly, and hesitantly taking the more supple form of a feline.

The lion panted, clearly exhausted from effort, but his sharp eyes remained alert for the thing tracking him. Despite his fatigue there would be no rest this night. He slipped away from his hiding spot, moving from tree shadow to tree shadow, leaving no mark of his passage.

In his sleep the old tauren shifts from the form of a bear to that of a lion, his breathing does not slow, he does not calm.

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