Munkees. I know the last two chapters sucked beyond suckage, so I'm trying to make it up to you by getting this chapter up quickly, unfortunately it's a short one again.

I also wanted to thank Shinzui. To answer your question, no, I haven't role-played wolves but you put a nice image in my head that I had to insert here.

The Promise Of Dreams

ReixKai

Holding Pieces

Kai watched as the light in their room was turned off and he straightened, moving towards the streets. It was nothing new, the senseless wanderings, a repetitive act that satisfied the relentless droning of his minds tired battle.

His face softened against the breeze and he sighed deeply watching his breath cloud and dissipate like the shadows in the sun.

He turned his face against the streetlight raising his hand into the glow, watching his cold, pale skin brighten and shine. He quickly dropped his arm again and stepped out of the golden beam.

It was difficult for him now to stay solid; to not get lost on the trail his thoughts guided him to. It was difficult to keep his eyes hard and his face emotionless. He clenched the fabric of his shirt at his chest as though he could squeeze his heart, silence it's pained beating and rip it out to welcome back the hollowness that consumed him before.

Before?

Before the happiness, before the unyielding ache that gnarled his soul, before golden eyes displayed hurt, before an old part of him had been resurrected by the niggling promises of dreams.

Kai crossed his arms tightly over his chest and sat down on the bench that stared out across the blackened river.

The phoenix's mahogany eyes skimmed the ripples that captured the moonlight, dancing with silver crystals that shimmered in its soothing parade.

He listened to the quiet. To the thrumming of his heart and the gentle lapping of the water. He listened to the aching silence echo around his being and he clenched his fists tightly.

Why?

Why did he need nothing?

Why was he willing to give up on the only thing that he had ever loved?

The lost boy stood and screamed loudly, howling up to the moon that calmly watched him. He roared until his voice cracked, raw, then he hung his head, feeling his voice grate in the back of his throat.

He didn't look up. Didn't care to see the world that would laugh and taunt him for his weak display.

It didn't matter, because for a moment it was gone. The condescending voice of his grandfather has scuffled away into the darkness, the ever-looming failure had shrank down into dusty specks that the crisp wind blew away, and the years of silent anguish were released, hanging in the air for the stars to heal.

What was there now?

Now that he refused to be hushed, now that he had raised his voice to the skies and announced his existence.

What would come now that he had chosen life over the restraining chains of his shackled mind?