Story Time
He laid on the branch he perched himself for many years. There was no sun but light still shone through the ever lasting sky. There was no wind yet his fur blew in the air. he breath out and tasted the air. Nothing. This was a fake world that he a millions of others lived in. he missed the times he spent in the real world. The Spirit world was a cheap replication of it. Water covered most of the ground and eerie looking trees hid the sky. He scrunched his nose at his thoughts. He heard something move and he twitched his ears. Nobody came near here anymore. More noises filled the emptiness. He rose sinking his claws in the branch and stretched his entire body. He shifted his head looking for someone. He twitched his ears about hearing something. He sniffed smelling out the intruders scent. He shook the suspicion off, and rested himself back on the branch.
"Wing-Fang get up," a strong echoing voice commanded him. His ears twitched at the familiar sound and rose once more. He looked down at his fellow wolf. It was Midnight. Though the moon spirit was much larger and more rugged compared to the protector of the Avatar he had no authority over Wing-Fang, but out of courtesy to a friend he greeted him.
"Good Morrow cousin, what news does thou bring to me?" he asked in his ancient voice that could still over power any noise know to his ears. The black face of his friend twitched and titled to the side. Midnight was confused. He stood up and started to climb up the branch. His claws which scraped the bark made scattered noise as he pulled himself up. He sat beside Wing-Fang. They nodded to each other.
"Must you talk in such an old speech," Asked Midnight. Wing-Fang knew that Midnight was not as old to remember the time when the world spoke an ancient language that now only a few Winged Guardian groups spoke with. Wing-Fang titled his head asking a question in silence. "We are here to hear your stories," Midnight said respectfully.
"Stories of my past or the past of my followers? And whom do we speak of when thy told me of others?" Wing-Fang asked confused. The large wolf nodded his head in the direction of the ground below them both. Wing-Fang turned and looked. Hundreds of creatures stood under the shade of his tree. The sea of creatures started to chatter among themselves. The voices rang through Wing-Fang's head. He unfolded his bat like wings and howled as loud as he could. His throat vibrated with noise and fell out his mouth. It fell silent and he stopped his howls and looked at them. He could smell fear in many of them. They were of those he had never meat, the ones that he been acquaintances with sat there silently. Some feared out of respect others trembled out of the stories they have heard of his past. Were his stories so miscoded and misunderstood that people feared him for his actions? He laid his wings against his back again and looked at the audience calmly.
He looked up to the sky as he heard the sound of the air sifting around. A golden bore with angelic wings floated down beside him. He grunted and turned his head back to the audience. The audience bowed to the greatest personnel of authority. Bei-Fong ruled and organized the ways of the Winged Guardians with a compassionate sense of pride. She nudged Wing-Fang and pushed him over slightly. He stumbled back and looked ant her with enraged eyes.
"Well some one has a short temper. No wonder so many fear you, wolfy. Now please, we all hear to hear stories of your followers past. Maybe than they will learn to respect you with out fear," Bei-Fong said with a soft voice. He looked over to Midnight who shrugged his bold shoulders and climbed down the tree. This was her idea, I just know it. Wing-Fang told himself. He lunged off the branch landing in the mucky swamp water below. It slashed a few small creatures that just happened to be in the front row. The first creature he made eye contact with was a small red bird with black designs running around its body.
"Now tell me young one, what story would you like to hear?" Wing-Fang asked as he tilted his head closer to the birds face. It was quivering with fear. He noticed it stumbled back a bit with every word that boomed out of the wolf's throat.
"Um… heh… the story of…um… Zatch…?" the bird trembled out in a high pitched voice. Wing-Fang started to laugh. The bird jumped up and flew back several rows. With one pounce Wing-Fang landed back on his branch and turned back to the creatures. They all looked up at him with optimistic stares. He looked over at Bei-Fong who nodded.
"Very well, so thou hast spoken the name of my follower, I shall speak of his past. Listen to the story of a great nobleman called Zatch," Wing-Fang said. The crowd started to cheer, howl or roar. Wing-Fang joined them before he spoke of the past.