Barred from the Red Meadow

by Khaz-Calowiel

Khaz died in the book "The Sight". But his destiny is the same as that of his pack- bigger than anyone knows. His spirit is tied to earth, unable to cross to the red meadow. And he pines for his living mate; Kipcha.

1. Death, and all it's wholesome blood

Khaz awoke. He couldn't remember anything. Except one solid fac that amazed him. He was alive. He wasn't quite sure why he ought not to be, all he knew, was that he was, in fact, supposed to be dead.

He took a deep breath in through his nose to get some oxygen through his sleep riddled body. Breathing in dust made him sneeze. The vibrations caused the spike through his left shoulder to move and pain shot through his entire body. He yelped in pain, and instinctively jumped up. As soon as he did the spike snapped off at the base and was letf, protruding out of his shoulder.

The pain dimmed a bit, but it was still intense. Khaz was lucky. He had a high pain threshold. He twisted his muzzle round and tried to grab the spike in his teeth, he couldn't reach it. He settled for licking the wound around it, and then he looked around, trying to gain memory of where he was, and why. He padded back to the hole he had sprung out of. He was surprised, and dimly proud of his adernaline fueled jump. The hole was a good three branches deep and at the bottom, there were treacherous spikes, riddled with Khaz's blood. But that wasn't what made him howl in pure, untainted fear. The cause of that, was the sight of a body at the bottom. Khaz's memory instantly returned by this scene. He saw Larka, the little white cub's fear, as she looked down on him in the pit, he saw his mate; Kipcha, staring down, with as much pain and love as could be expressed from a wolf shining out of her every hair, peering down, refusing to leave him. He saw the meat that had led him to the pit, sitting there, in it's deadly decadence, he saw the leaves fly up around him as he stepped onto the trap, and felt the branches snap under his weight. He relived it, and recoiled from it, he saw his blood flowing by his own head, and knew he was done for. But none of that, save for Kipcha's pain, compared to what he saw below him now. A wolf's body was sprawled out, impaled on the stakes the humans had placed there to kill his kind. He only needed to study the dead wolf for a few seconds; with it's deep gray pelt, strong handsome features, bloodstained muzzle and red tail. It was his own.