To The Future
By: electrice
One day, or night, as it was, a small digimon sat there, bathed in moonlight. He didn't feel sad- or any type of mood for that matter. Wait, maybe it was.loneliness. Anyway, he sat there, on a rooftop in MirrolTown. He didn't see the point of having friends, yet his cold heart felt lonely.for someone, yet he didn't know who. He had never in his whole life, which was VERY short, loved someone. You know those times when you argue with yourself? Well, he was doing that. The digimon sat there, arguing his big head off with himself. He often did this. Right now though, it was a subject he hated to think about. Love. His heart needed someone to love or it would be useless!!! But he felt that all he needed to love was himself. So, he kept on arguing like that, angry as Electrice with a blind fold on. He was all full of mixed emotions- the kind of mixed emotions I get when I have to clean up my room. Anger, Sadness, Stubbornness, Determination, and Fear of Failure. He had such a small simple life! He slept, ate, stole, pulled pranks, and had fun!! Why did he have to change it all now?! The digimon did not know. But he was not willing to find out either! So he just got up and leapt to the next rooftop, then the next, and the next, until he gathered up enough speed to jump right off onto the ground. There was almost total darkness in the deserted market place, but he knew he wasn't the only thief there. He kept to the shadows, and, since he was small, managed to leave unnoticed. The digimon knew of the hard life MirrolTown offered, but didn't care. He didn't know why people even lived there! They just did, and that was all that mattered..
The digimon's home was small, consisting of a small room with a fire pit and fire turner, a lumpy matressed bed, a falling apart couch and a corner shelf filled with dried meat and other lasting foods. On the wall just above the fire pit was a weapon rack holding weapons of all sorts. Then, on a shelf above the bed was a small money pot, holding 2 digitals exactly. The roof was very low and the room was dark and almost damp, some incense burning on the money pot shelf. The house, or what he called a house, was made of clay with a thatched roof. Small though it was, it served as a shelter and he was okay with it. Seriously, he was. But his love problem he was NOT okay with, and he had to figure out how to get rid of it!!!
The digimon flopped down on his rag-covered bed, green eyes never showing any tiredness. Rain had started to fall outside. He HATED rain. It usually made his roof sink lower and since the roof was thatched it had lots of leaks. Leaks meant a wet house. A wet house meant a wet owner of the house. And a wet owner was usually cold, grumpy and almost insane with numbness. So the digimon stumbled wearily to the door, or, the hinged old rotten warped slab of wood he called a door, and went outside into the lightly falling drizzle of rain. MirrolTown was usually very dusty and clouded, and hardly ever expected rain. So the digimon felt ungrateful and selfish about it. He hated rain. End of discussion. Its not that the whole city hated rain, its just that the digimon did, and that was all that mattered. He saw many other digimon frolicking in the horrible wet substance, large gaping smiles lighting up their faces. He glared and scuffed through puddles of his hated enemy. The rain was falling quickly now, confident but light. He couldn't believe it. Digimon liking rain? How idiotically stupid was that?! But then he thought about it, pausing in an unusually large puddle. No, some digimon were crazy about rain, some hated it, and some were just okay with it. Then he started again, slower then before. He didn't know where he was headed, all he knew was he was going. Somewhere. The digimon scuffled casually into the market place. Digimon were already setting up their shops with new banners. One Digimon was shrieking about being robbed, but The digimon could tell it was new in MirrolTown. Tough life. But he didn't care. He didn't care about nobody. He only cared about himself. But was he somebody? No. He was a nobody. A nobody in a huge world of somebodys. But he didn't care. He didn't care about nobody. He only cared about himself. Which I expressed before. But anyway, He turned home when he saw the sun rising above the desert. The rain did not stop. The digimon trudged to his small falling-apart hut and entered, soaking wet. He sat on his bed, and thought of being wealthy. He thought of watching the rain pour Outside, but not caring because of a blazing fire. Then he looked at his damp fire pit. He took some soggy matches from the shelf and tried in vain to strike one and be rewarded with flame. No such thing happened though, because the matches were too wet and kept on busting, and because he had too much hope. He threw the empty pack of matches on the floor and sat beside the fire pit. It was then that he heard a creaking, collapsing sound. Then he felt the roof touch his head. The whole house caved in with one final lurch. The digimon gave a shriek as he got covered in mouldy clay and rotten straw. It was dark inside. He sat there yelling his big eared head off for how long he nor I could tell, but when he finally broke through the rubble it was night again. The rain had stopped and it was once again dusty and dry. The sky was black with stars spreading across it like a map. His map. The digimon's own personal map! Maybe it was though. Maybe it was his own personal map that showed him where he must go. And the moon, yes it was all making sense now, the moon was his target, his goal. The digimon nodded approvingly. So he sat there, on his castle of mouldy clay and rotten straw, smiling because he knew what to do for once in his life. He knew. He knew he had to follow the stars and aim for the moon like a silver speeding arrow. So The digimon dug around in the rubble for needed items. He found his money-pot, a compass (broken), lots of stolen dried meat and fruit, and a faded black leather knapsack containing a damp bushy black haired fur. He threw everything into the knapsack and strapped it onto his back, clicking the shoulder brace together. But what would he do for weapons? He knew he needed something big, bigger then his blue ivory stabbing dagger. He got up out of the rubble and padded silently to the wealthier part of town. The digimon looked up at a large ivy covered crumbling building. He nodded and smiled. He knew of this weaponry storage place. So the digimon stole silently inside the old dwelling. The digimon looked around, wanting to take everything, For he was a digimon of great greed and selfishness. But then he decided to choose between the large double bladed sword and the black steelheaded spear. Then something caught his eyes. On the anvil in the middle of the room, bathed in moonlight from the sunroof, were weapons so mystical looking they seemed unreal. There were 20 ivory pointed arrows, with shining rich oak for the body and silvery blue feathers. The bow was made of strong well-worn sinew and more shining bold oak. As a handle there was a strong white strip of material covered in faded sky blue calligraphy, wound around lots of times and tied into a messy knot. Beside the bow and arrows was a magnificently carved and welded steel sword, about the size of the digimon himself. The bow and arrows were a little bit smaller, making them easy to use. But the digimon took both, being greedy. He thought he looked brave with them, and strapped the bow to his knapsack and put the arrows inside, partially showing. Then he smiled and swung the sword around, hoping he looked bold. There was a CRASH! and several suites of digichromazoid armor fell onto the floor. RING!RING! The alarm went off!! The digimon looked around wildly, green eyes fearful. He heard footsteps, footsteps coming towards him, footsteps of his enemy. A light shone on him. "There he is!!" yelled a voice, "There's the thief!" A shot rang out. A shot from a digichromomachinegun. The digimon yowled in pain and agony. His left leg felt.. like it was blown clear off! He cursed and then looked up from his wound. He stared daggers at the other digimon. Since he could see in the dark with his especially cute eyes, he knew how his opponent looked. The other digimon was well-built and tan colored. It had golden eyes and was.a kangaroo species! Our friend, who we know as "The digimon" so far, hated the look of the other. It was obviously a male data, and he was a virus. "Surrender and hand over what you stole!" commanded the kangaroo. The digimon hated being told what to do, and with blood gushing from his leg, He felt dizzy and angry. He shot a ball of blue fire at the kangaroo. He was satisfied to hear a yell of surprise and ran, wobbling through the streets. The weaponry storage was not very far from the gates to the outside, so it took The digimon not very long to get there, even in his condition. And he knew it wouldn't be hard to get past the guards. The digimon stumbled behind a barrel. He picked up a rock, quite a big one, and threw it. It was the oldest trick in the book, but the guards fell for it easily. They raced towards the rock viciously. Too bad they weren't virus, or they would've sensed The digimon sneak by out the open gate. When he stepped out he felt a cool but warm wind blow gently past. In the city it was always stuffy and hot, but out there it was refreshing. His leg still throbbed badly, and his vision was getting blurry from loss of blood. He scuffled towards some palm trees. He sat down and put his sword on some dead moss. Then everything went black.
The digimon sat up, green eyes blurry and sleepy looking. Sunlight streamed through the Palm leaves. He yawned lazily. Something felt weird. He looked down at his leg. What the..?! His left leg was smothered in dried blood that had caked onto his short fur. He whined self pityingly. How did that happen? Why was he not in his house? The digimon felt confused and dazed. Then he remembered. He remembered the weapon room. He remembered the golden tan digimon. He remembered the gun blast. Grabbing onto a treetrunk, he helped himself get up. He glanced around. A large desert stretched everywhere. In the sky, a large unrelenting sun hung, blasting rays of heat on everything. To the south, about 10 meters away, was MirrolTown, cloudy and looming. In old legends, it said that the digimon of MirrolTown had done wrong to the legendary sorceress/goddess Shenramon. As punishment, A large cloud was put over MirrolTown to block the sun forever. And it still sat above the city like a guard dog. But it was old, and had been battered by many winds, so sunshine sometimes got through, lighting up the dusty city. The digimon felt freedom. NEVER would he come back to the poverty stricken MirrolTown. He picked up his huge sword and put it over his small right shoulder. It was heavy, but he knew he had to move. The digimon strutted north, his wild green eyes squinting from sand and sun. It was midday- the hottest time. The sun was in the middle of the sky, shooting invisible fire down like a dragon. But still The digimon pushed on. He sweated hard. His weapons and backpack were heavy. Heavier then he had expected. But still he kept up the pace, through large dunes of sand, stumbling, his velvety paws burning from the intense heat. But he knew that he had to keep going. So he did. Now palm trees were nowhere in sight and MirrolTown was a small dot. The digimon considered turning back-but then he thought of his collapsed house. Living in an unrelenting town? Homeless? No way. He had seen homeless digimon. They had been ragged and slow, often sitting there watching the rich with their dead, mournful looking eyes. The digimon didn't feel like doing that. So he quickened his pace, scaring himself with the thought of being chased by the golden tan digimon. Surely that good looking data was not homeless? The digimon thought it was quite obvious that his attacker lived in the weapon room. He then scolded himself for asking such stupid questions. He even tried kicking himself, but he tripped on his wounded leg and, with a horrified yelp, slipped into an inferno feeling sand bank.
As The digimon lay there in the steaming sand, he felt that hated feeling again. He wished it would go away! But it was there. The feeling of needed love. If his heart needed love so badly, why didn't it post some love needed signs around? He forced the love thoughts to the back of his head. Then he struggled to get up before the golden sand covered him. Finally he got up, and started to trudge on. ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ The only thing that kept The digimon going was hope. He started to see mirages-like palm trees or a stream. Then he saw one that didn't fade. It couldn't be real-could it?! He ran towards the Palm Trees. YES!!! It was an oasis! The digimon howled for pure joy! He leapt threw the tall palms, face alight with unbeatable happiness. He dropped his heavy bag and weapons and did a little dance. But then the question came. WHERE WAS THE WATER???!!! No stream, no water of any sort! He instantly stopped the joyous parade. Fear and failure crept over him. He dropped onto all 4s, searching for any sign of a refreshing drink. Nope, nothing. He sat on his rump, crystal tears silently falling. No water? How could that be? He burst into a fit of wailing. Then he heard slithering. He whirled around, grabbing his sword. A large, long cobra lay infront of him, Swaying menacingly. It had 4 red bat-like wings on its back and had large, glistening visible fangs. On the 2 flaps of leathery skin it had a red skull. The digimon stared, horrified. A Skallomon. The digimon dared not move. Skallomons were the most dangerous snake type digimon ever known. He raised his sword slowly, quivering. The Skallomon blinked. The digimon recoiled as if one blink could kill him. Then the Skallomon seethed forward, eyes venomous. The digimon cocked his head. Wrong move.
The Skallomon sprung. In one swift movement, it was ontop of The digimon, fangs bared. The digimon snarled and tried to throw The Skallomon off of him. He succeeded in whipping The Skallomon about 5 meters away. He then dashed towards his enemy, sword raised. He no longer felt fear-he only felt determination. The Skallomon shook off the fall and then coiled up its long body, getting ready to strike again. The digimon was ready. He stabbed at the snake wildly, weaving in and out, silver sword flashing. But it was heavy, and his shoulder felt like falling off. The snake hissed, frustrated that its prey could defend itself. The Skallomon tried to avoid all the jabs, and did avoid all.but 1. The digimon stabbed through 1 of its wings furiously. The Skallomon shrieked with agony and coiled up, cradling its left wing with its tail. The digimon stabbed again. The Skallomon threw itself out of the way. His sword flew into the ground. Water spurted up. YES!! An underground stream! The Skallomon lay, its breathing harsh and weak. It had no further intention of hurting The digimon, so he dug quickly to reveal more water. He was rewarded with wet paws. He bent down and lapped up the liquid.
A fire danced infront of The digimon. It was night- and stars were stretched across the black sky. His map had returned. The digimon sat, and, having drank his fill, chewed absent mindedly on salted beef. Something slithered up, weakened to the point of almost dying. The Skallomon sat infront of The digimon, eyes glazed over. It uttered a small whimper- the type of whimper a puppy would make. He looked over, grabbing his sword. Skallomon shook its sleek head, so The digimon dropped his sword. He wanted to know what Skallomon wanted. The Skallomon bowed, a sign of defeat. Then it indicated to its large wing, the wing with blood pouring out onto the sand. Heal. The word floated through The digimon's head. He stared at the Skallomon. Heal? Heal. The word came again. The digimon reached out, ready to withdraw. The digimon lay down, eyes closed. It was nearing death. The digimon had to do something, but how he trust that The Skallomon, after being healed, wouldn't attack him. Friends. Heal. 2 words. Friends? Friends heal friends. The sentence came clear. But were they friends? They had fought quite viciously, resulting in this injury. Then The digimon remembered. Skallomon had bowed. Now it was dying. Friends. He nodded. The digimon rummaged through his bag. Finally he pulled out a gourd filled with a glowing sky blue substance. He hurriedly rubbed it on the wing, then applied a long strip of white material, supposedly a substitute bandage. Then The digimon packed up his packsack and proceeded to stomp out the fire. He had to move again. He had to take advantage of the cool night, because he would perish in any more heat from the unforgiving sun. He picked up the unconscious Skallomon. It was heavy! He almost dropped it, but caught its sleek head before damage could take place. Wait a sec.he couldn't carry the large snake all the way! He took off his backpack and emptied it. He would have to carry the bow and arrows, as well as the sword! Oh no..Well, it was for the Skallomon.. Hey.was the Skallomon important? A wave of evilness swept over him. He didn't have to bring the vicious snake.. But then he thought of the bow, the sacred bow that meant master and servant, friend and friend, Modoki for Modoki. He gently put the snake on the fur inside his backpack. He had to coil it up a bit for room. It was heavy, but felt more comfortable. He left the pack half-open for air. But everything was STILL too heavy! He looked up at the stars through the trees. Then an idea struck him. He started at once, sewing the strong palm tree bark together with a sliver of wood. The night sky was softening when he finished the long, light, smooth sled. He took Skallomon and the fur and set them on the sled. He put all the rest of the stuff on the sled too; Skallomon on fur infront, weaponry and tools in the middle, food and other supplies at the back. When he first set out, all the stuff fell off the sled. He got frustrated and put curved short walls on the sides to hold everything in and then set off again. Success. But the sun was up!! The digimon decided to busy himself with supplies from the oasis, because he could not leave in the day. He needed his map.
It was hot. Very hot. So hot in fact, The digimon dug a hole in the underground stream that served as a cooler. Skallomon was still asleep, and The digimon worried. But at least the large snake was breathing. The digimon lay in the cooler, wild green eyes half open, lazy looking. He moaned, feeling his sunburnt head. The sun was starting to go down. Good.
The digimon jolted awake. It was night! The sky bore his map proudly, his moon target sending its pale light down.down to him. And there was his sled, all loaded up. Hey!! There was a digimon circling the sled, its glowing yellow eyes fixed upon. SKALLOMON!! It was a Jackaldramon, no doubt. And it was hungry. The digimon felt for his sword. Damn!! It was on the sled with the rest of his belongings! And Jackaldramon was an ultimate! He felt terror rip through him. The Jackaldramon was ready to pounce. He closed his eyes. Let the power fill you. His paws seethed forward, feeling, and then finally rested, crossed on his chest. Feel the power in your body. He felt within himself; past the guilt and greediness. The digimon was suddenly engulfed in a huge blue flame! He hovered in the air, eyes closed, paws crossed over his chest. His short fur ruffled as if in water. Now learn to release the power in you. The words floated by in the breeze. He put his paws above his head, and then threw them forward. The blue fire went with his hands, but when he brought them back to his sides the fire kept going. It raged forward, towards all that The digimon hated. It hit the Jackaldramon fullforce. There was a shriek of pain and then all was quiet. Quiet enough to sit and read. The Jackaldramon was nowhere in sight. The sled was untouched. The digimon opened his wild green eyes. He cocked his head.
They were on the move. The digimon was up front, pulling the sled across the dunes. It practically flew across the sand. Skallomon slept on, its wing healing fast. He stared up at his map, following the moon, never anything else. There were 2 moons, but the small moon was beside the big moon, or the master moon, and the servant moon was a bluish color. So he just followed both. He pulled hard to go fast, and since he had made himself a harness of bendable, strong inner bark, he was able to put all his strength into it. It was lightening and the sky was losing its stars, but he tried to follow any way. Where would they rest? And in the blazing sun? They would certainly perish. Out in the middle of the desert, nowhere to stop, no shelter. But still the digimon kept on, Wild green eyes focused on the stars.
By: electrice
One day, or night, as it was, a small digimon sat there, bathed in moonlight. He didn't feel sad- or any type of mood for that matter. Wait, maybe it was.loneliness. Anyway, he sat there, on a rooftop in MirrolTown. He didn't see the point of having friends, yet his cold heart felt lonely.for someone, yet he didn't know who. He had never in his whole life, which was VERY short, loved someone. You know those times when you argue with yourself? Well, he was doing that. The digimon sat there, arguing his big head off with himself. He often did this. Right now though, it was a subject he hated to think about. Love. His heart needed someone to love or it would be useless!!! But he felt that all he needed to love was himself. So, he kept on arguing like that, angry as Electrice with a blind fold on. He was all full of mixed emotions- the kind of mixed emotions I get when I have to clean up my room. Anger, Sadness, Stubbornness, Determination, and Fear of Failure. He had such a small simple life! He slept, ate, stole, pulled pranks, and had fun!! Why did he have to change it all now?! The digimon did not know. But he was not willing to find out either! So he just got up and leapt to the next rooftop, then the next, and the next, until he gathered up enough speed to jump right off onto the ground. There was almost total darkness in the deserted market place, but he knew he wasn't the only thief there. He kept to the shadows, and, since he was small, managed to leave unnoticed. The digimon knew of the hard life MirrolTown offered, but didn't care. He didn't know why people even lived there! They just did, and that was all that mattered..
The digimon's home was small, consisting of a small room with a fire pit and fire turner, a lumpy matressed bed, a falling apart couch and a corner shelf filled with dried meat and other lasting foods. On the wall just above the fire pit was a weapon rack holding weapons of all sorts. Then, on a shelf above the bed was a small money pot, holding 2 digitals exactly. The roof was very low and the room was dark and almost damp, some incense burning on the money pot shelf. The house, or what he called a house, was made of clay with a thatched roof. Small though it was, it served as a shelter and he was okay with it. Seriously, he was. But his love problem he was NOT okay with, and he had to figure out how to get rid of it!!!
The digimon flopped down on his rag-covered bed, green eyes never showing any tiredness. Rain had started to fall outside. He HATED rain. It usually made his roof sink lower and since the roof was thatched it had lots of leaks. Leaks meant a wet house. A wet house meant a wet owner of the house. And a wet owner was usually cold, grumpy and almost insane with numbness. So the digimon stumbled wearily to the door, or, the hinged old rotten warped slab of wood he called a door, and went outside into the lightly falling drizzle of rain. MirrolTown was usually very dusty and clouded, and hardly ever expected rain. So the digimon felt ungrateful and selfish about it. He hated rain. End of discussion. Its not that the whole city hated rain, its just that the digimon did, and that was all that mattered. He saw many other digimon frolicking in the horrible wet substance, large gaping smiles lighting up their faces. He glared and scuffed through puddles of his hated enemy. The rain was falling quickly now, confident but light. He couldn't believe it. Digimon liking rain? How idiotically stupid was that?! But then he thought about it, pausing in an unusually large puddle. No, some digimon were crazy about rain, some hated it, and some were just okay with it. Then he started again, slower then before. He didn't know where he was headed, all he knew was he was going. Somewhere. The digimon scuffled casually into the market place. Digimon were already setting up their shops with new banners. One Digimon was shrieking about being robbed, but The digimon could tell it was new in MirrolTown. Tough life. But he didn't care. He didn't care about nobody. He only cared about himself. But was he somebody? No. He was a nobody. A nobody in a huge world of somebodys. But he didn't care. He didn't care about nobody. He only cared about himself. Which I expressed before. But anyway, He turned home when he saw the sun rising above the desert. The rain did not stop. The digimon trudged to his small falling-apart hut and entered, soaking wet. He sat on his bed, and thought of being wealthy. He thought of watching the rain pour Outside, but not caring because of a blazing fire. Then he looked at his damp fire pit. He took some soggy matches from the shelf and tried in vain to strike one and be rewarded with flame. No such thing happened though, because the matches were too wet and kept on busting, and because he had too much hope. He threw the empty pack of matches on the floor and sat beside the fire pit. It was then that he heard a creaking, collapsing sound. Then he felt the roof touch his head. The whole house caved in with one final lurch. The digimon gave a shriek as he got covered in mouldy clay and rotten straw. It was dark inside. He sat there yelling his big eared head off for how long he nor I could tell, but when he finally broke through the rubble it was night again. The rain had stopped and it was once again dusty and dry. The sky was black with stars spreading across it like a map. His map. The digimon's own personal map! Maybe it was though. Maybe it was his own personal map that showed him where he must go. And the moon, yes it was all making sense now, the moon was his target, his goal. The digimon nodded approvingly. So he sat there, on his castle of mouldy clay and rotten straw, smiling because he knew what to do for once in his life. He knew. He knew he had to follow the stars and aim for the moon like a silver speeding arrow. So The digimon dug around in the rubble for needed items. He found his money-pot, a compass (broken), lots of stolen dried meat and fruit, and a faded black leather knapsack containing a damp bushy black haired fur. He threw everything into the knapsack and strapped it onto his back, clicking the shoulder brace together. But what would he do for weapons? He knew he needed something big, bigger then his blue ivory stabbing dagger. He got up out of the rubble and padded silently to the wealthier part of town. The digimon looked up at a large ivy covered crumbling building. He nodded and smiled. He knew of this weaponry storage place. So the digimon stole silently inside the old dwelling. The digimon looked around, wanting to take everything, For he was a digimon of great greed and selfishness. But then he decided to choose between the large double bladed sword and the black steelheaded spear. Then something caught his eyes. On the anvil in the middle of the room, bathed in moonlight from the sunroof, were weapons so mystical looking they seemed unreal. There were 20 ivory pointed arrows, with shining rich oak for the body and silvery blue feathers. The bow was made of strong well-worn sinew and more shining bold oak. As a handle there was a strong white strip of material covered in faded sky blue calligraphy, wound around lots of times and tied into a messy knot. Beside the bow and arrows was a magnificently carved and welded steel sword, about the size of the digimon himself. The bow and arrows were a little bit smaller, making them easy to use. But the digimon took both, being greedy. He thought he looked brave with them, and strapped the bow to his knapsack and put the arrows inside, partially showing. Then he smiled and swung the sword around, hoping he looked bold. There was a CRASH! and several suites of digichromazoid armor fell onto the floor. RING!RING! The alarm went off!! The digimon looked around wildly, green eyes fearful. He heard footsteps, footsteps coming towards him, footsteps of his enemy. A light shone on him. "There he is!!" yelled a voice, "There's the thief!" A shot rang out. A shot from a digichromomachinegun. The digimon yowled in pain and agony. His left leg felt.. like it was blown clear off! He cursed and then looked up from his wound. He stared daggers at the other digimon. Since he could see in the dark with his especially cute eyes, he knew how his opponent looked. The other digimon was well-built and tan colored. It had golden eyes and was.a kangaroo species! Our friend, who we know as "The digimon" so far, hated the look of the other. It was obviously a male data, and he was a virus. "Surrender and hand over what you stole!" commanded the kangaroo. The digimon hated being told what to do, and with blood gushing from his leg, He felt dizzy and angry. He shot a ball of blue fire at the kangaroo. He was satisfied to hear a yell of surprise and ran, wobbling through the streets. The weaponry storage was not very far from the gates to the outside, so it took The digimon not very long to get there, even in his condition. And he knew it wouldn't be hard to get past the guards. The digimon stumbled behind a barrel. He picked up a rock, quite a big one, and threw it. It was the oldest trick in the book, but the guards fell for it easily. They raced towards the rock viciously. Too bad they weren't virus, or they would've sensed The digimon sneak by out the open gate. When he stepped out he felt a cool but warm wind blow gently past. In the city it was always stuffy and hot, but out there it was refreshing. His leg still throbbed badly, and his vision was getting blurry from loss of blood. He scuffled towards some palm trees. He sat down and put his sword on some dead moss. Then everything went black.
The digimon sat up, green eyes blurry and sleepy looking. Sunlight streamed through the Palm leaves. He yawned lazily. Something felt weird. He looked down at his leg. What the..?! His left leg was smothered in dried blood that had caked onto his short fur. He whined self pityingly. How did that happen? Why was he not in his house? The digimon felt confused and dazed. Then he remembered. He remembered the weapon room. He remembered the golden tan digimon. He remembered the gun blast. Grabbing onto a treetrunk, he helped himself get up. He glanced around. A large desert stretched everywhere. In the sky, a large unrelenting sun hung, blasting rays of heat on everything. To the south, about 10 meters away, was MirrolTown, cloudy and looming. In old legends, it said that the digimon of MirrolTown had done wrong to the legendary sorceress/goddess Shenramon. As punishment, A large cloud was put over MirrolTown to block the sun forever. And it still sat above the city like a guard dog. But it was old, and had been battered by many winds, so sunshine sometimes got through, lighting up the dusty city. The digimon felt freedom. NEVER would he come back to the poverty stricken MirrolTown. He picked up his huge sword and put it over his small right shoulder. It was heavy, but he knew he had to move. The digimon strutted north, his wild green eyes squinting from sand and sun. It was midday- the hottest time. The sun was in the middle of the sky, shooting invisible fire down like a dragon. But still The digimon pushed on. He sweated hard. His weapons and backpack were heavy. Heavier then he had expected. But still he kept up the pace, through large dunes of sand, stumbling, his velvety paws burning from the intense heat. But he knew that he had to keep going. So he did. Now palm trees were nowhere in sight and MirrolTown was a small dot. The digimon considered turning back-but then he thought of his collapsed house. Living in an unrelenting town? Homeless? No way. He had seen homeless digimon. They had been ragged and slow, often sitting there watching the rich with their dead, mournful looking eyes. The digimon didn't feel like doing that. So he quickened his pace, scaring himself with the thought of being chased by the golden tan digimon. Surely that good looking data was not homeless? The digimon thought it was quite obvious that his attacker lived in the weapon room. He then scolded himself for asking such stupid questions. He even tried kicking himself, but he tripped on his wounded leg and, with a horrified yelp, slipped into an inferno feeling sand bank.
As The digimon lay there in the steaming sand, he felt that hated feeling again. He wished it would go away! But it was there. The feeling of needed love. If his heart needed love so badly, why didn't it post some love needed signs around? He forced the love thoughts to the back of his head. Then he struggled to get up before the golden sand covered him. Finally he got up, and started to trudge on. ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ The only thing that kept The digimon going was hope. He started to see mirages-like palm trees or a stream. Then he saw one that didn't fade. It couldn't be real-could it?! He ran towards the Palm Trees. YES!!! It was an oasis! The digimon howled for pure joy! He leapt threw the tall palms, face alight with unbeatable happiness. He dropped his heavy bag and weapons and did a little dance. But then the question came. WHERE WAS THE WATER???!!! No stream, no water of any sort! He instantly stopped the joyous parade. Fear and failure crept over him. He dropped onto all 4s, searching for any sign of a refreshing drink. Nope, nothing. He sat on his rump, crystal tears silently falling. No water? How could that be? He burst into a fit of wailing. Then he heard slithering. He whirled around, grabbing his sword. A large, long cobra lay infront of him, Swaying menacingly. It had 4 red bat-like wings on its back and had large, glistening visible fangs. On the 2 flaps of leathery skin it had a red skull. The digimon stared, horrified. A Skallomon. The digimon dared not move. Skallomons were the most dangerous snake type digimon ever known. He raised his sword slowly, quivering. The Skallomon blinked. The digimon recoiled as if one blink could kill him. Then the Skallomon seethed forward, eyes venomous. The digimon cocked his head. Wrong move.
The Skallomon sprung. In one swift movement, it was ontop of The digimon, fangs bared. The digimon snarled and tried to throw The Skallomon off of him. He succeeded in whipping The Skallomon about 5 meters away. He then dashed towards his enemy, sword raised. He no longer felt fear-he only felt determination. The Skallomon shook off the fall and then coiled up its long body, getting ready to strike again. The digimon was ready. He stabbed at the snake wildly, weaving in and out, silver sword flashing. But it was heavy, and his shoulder felt like falling off. The snake hissed, frustrated that its prey could defend itself. The Skallomon tried to avoid all the jabs, and did avoid all.but 1. The digimon stabbed through 1 of its wings furiously. The Skallomon shrieked with agony and coiled up, cradling its left wing with its tail. The digimon stabbed again. The Skallomon threw itself out of the way. His sword flew into the ground. Water spurted up. YES!! An underground stream! The Skallomon lay, its breathing harsh and weak. It had no further intention of hurting The digimon, so he dug quickly to reveal more water. He was rewarded with wet paws. He bent down and lapped up the liquid.
A fire danced infront of The digimon. It was night- and stars were stretched across the black sky. His map had returned. The digimon sat, and, having drank his fill, chewed absent mindedly on salted beef. Something slithered up, weakened to the point of almost dying. The Skallomon sat infront of The digimon, eyes glazed over. It uttered a small whimper- the type of whimper a puppy would make. He looked over, grabbing his sword. Skallomon shook its sleek head, so The digimon dropped his sword. He wanted to know what Skallomon wanted. The Skallomon bowed, a sign of defeat. Then it indicated to its large wing, the wing with blood pouring out onto the sand. Heal. The word floated through The digimon's head. He stared at the Skallomon. Heal? Heal. The word came again. The digimon reached out, ready to withdraw. The digimon lay down, eyes closed. It was nearing death. The digimon had to do something, but how he trust that The Skallomon, after being healed, wouldn't attack him. Friends. Heal. 2 words. Friends? Friends heal friends. The sentence came clear. But were they friends? They had fought quite viciously, resulting in this injury. Then The digimon remembered. Skallomon had bowed. Now it was dying. Friends. He nodded. The digimon rummaged through his bag. Finally he pulled out a gourd filled with a glowing sky blue substance. He hurriedly rubbed it on the wing, then applied a long strip of white material, supposedly a substitute bandage. Then The digimon packed up his packsack and proceeded to stomp out the fire. He had to move again. He had to take advantage of the cool night, because he would perish in any more heat from the unforgiving sun. He picked up the unconscious Skallomon. It was heavy! He almost dropped it, but caught its sleek head before damage could take place. Wait a sec.he couldn't carry the large snake all the way! He took off his backpack and emptied it. He would have to carry the bow and arrows, as well as the sword! Oh no..Well, it was for the Skallomon.. Hey.was the Skallomon important? A wave of evilness swept over him. He didn't have to bring the vicious snake.. But then he thought of the bow, the sacred bow that meant master and servant, friend and friend, Modoki for Modoki. He gently put the snake on the fur inside his backpack. He had to coil it up a bit for room. It was heavy, but felt more comfortable. He left the pack half-open for air. But everything was STILL too heavy! He looked up at the stars through the trees. Then an idea struck him. He started at once, sewing the strong palm tree bark together with a sliver of wood. The night sky was softening when he finished the long, light, smooth sled. He took Skallomon and the fur and set them on the sled. He put all the rest of the stuff on the sled too; Skallomon on fur infront, weaponry and tools in the middle, food and other supplies at the back. When he first set out, all the stuff fell off the sled. He got frustrated and put curved short walls on the sides to hold everything in and then set off again. Success. But the sun was up!! The digimon decided to busy himself with supplies from the oasis, because he could not leave in the day. He needed his map.
It was hot. Very hot. So hot in fact, The digimon dug a hole in the underground stream that served as a cooler. Skallomon was still asleep, and The digimon worried. But at least the large snake was breathing. The digimon lay in the cooler, wild green eyes half open, lazy looking. He moaned, feeling his sunburnt head. The sun was starting to go down. Good.
The digimon jolted awake. It was night! The sky bore his map proudly, his moon target sending its pale light down.down to him. And there was his sled, all loaded up. Hey!! There was a digimon circling the sled, its glowing yellow eyes fixed upon. SKALLOMON!! It was a Jackaldramon, no doubt. And it was hungry. The digimon felt for his sword. Damn!! It was on the sled with the rest of his belongings! And Jackaldramon was an ultimate! He felt terror rip through him. The Jackaldramon was ready to pounce. He closed his eyes. Let the power fill you. His paws seethed forward, feeling, and then finally rested, crossed on his chest. Feel the power in your body. He felt within himself; past the guilt and greediness. The digimon was suddenly engulfed in a huge blue flame! He hovered in the air, eyes closed, paws crossed over his chest. His short fur ruffled as if in water. Now learn to release the power in you. The words floated by in the breeze. He put his paws above his head, and then threw them forward. The blue fire went with his hands, but when he brought them back to his sides the fire kept going. It raged forward, towards all that The digimon hated. It hit the Jackaldramon fullforce. There was a shriek of pain and then all was quiet. Quiet enough to sit and read. The Jackaldramon was nowhere in sight. The sled was untouched. The digimon opened his wild green eyes. He cocked his head.
They were on the move. The digimon was up front, pulling the sled across the dunes. It practically flew across the sand. Skallomon slept on, its wing healing fast. He stared up at his map, following the moon, never anything else. There were 2 moons, but the small moon was beside the big moon, or the master moon, and the servant moon was a bluish color. So he just followed both. He pulled hard to go fast, and since he had made himself a harness of bendable, strong inner bark, he was able to put all his strength into it. It was lightening and the sky was losing its stars, but he tried to follow any way. Where would they rest? And in the blazing sun? They would certainly perish. Out in the middle of the desert, nowhere to stop, no shelter. But still the digimon kept on, Wild green eyes focused on the stars.