Darkness enveloped even itself in the small room where Shatol stood. Its
bare cement walls didn't let even a flea through its cracks, much less
light. The floor was also concrete except for the far corner in which old
blankets had been jumbled on top of one another; of which it was evident
that they had been laid on recently from the heavy press marks in the
center.
Shatol blinked uselessly in the dark and stretched; forepaws outstretched
and back arched, his tail curved over his spine. The thick silver sheen of
fur that covered the length of his body, except for small streaks of black
that were dispersed all over his frame and the darker patch of gray around
his eyes, shook out like a wave, throwing dust from itself and into the
air. Shatol's ears and nose perked as he made his way out of his small
home through a tiny hole coated by a tattered towel.
Outside, the moonlight caught his fur and it sparkled as if wet, which it
might as well have been from sleeping on those soiled covers. Shatol
licked his lips and yawned, his long ears folding back naturally. As he
did so, he caught the slightest sound behind and to his left. Pretending
he didn't notice, Shatol regained his posture and sat, raising his muzzle
to stare at the sliver of moon showing behind gray clouds. The sound
inched closer, a dry cracking of leaves from a couple large bodies.
Shatol all ready knew what they were. Slowly, his eyes turned from a
lustful green to a crimson stained red as he fell into himself and his
senses became sharp; sharp enough to the point that his muscles also
responded with super speed and strength to the impulses his brain put on
him. Still the demon dog kept his gaze on the moon until the sound from the
creatures was within the near bushes.
One. he thought.
The bushes rustled again.
Two.
The rustling stopped.
Three. Shatol dropped onto his stomach and flattened himself to the earth. A black cat-like body flew over his head, landing sprawling in the dirt beside him. Shatol rolled the opposite direction of the attacker and came to his feet as another black form landed where he had been crouched.
Shatol spread his long legs apart in a defensive posture and lowered his head in a thin snarl, no sound yet escaping his mouth. The two creatures regained their feet and revealed their own teeth, large canines such as a feline would have, and their cat whiskers seemed like bristles from a brush as they stuck out in all directions.
Shatol sprang silently, catching one by surprise and rolling it over so that its underbelly was exposed. The silver wolf gutted the cat creature in two long swipes of his forepaws, but its intestines became caught around Shatol's paws as he was turning around to face the other and he fell onto his chest amid the blood and entrails. Luckily for him, it caused the black demon to miss his head by mere inches. Shatol freed himself and pounced on the feline, ripping the back of its neck out to the bone. The cat's head dropped limply followed by the rest of its body.
Shatol blinked confusedly in the aftermath of the short battle. This always happened to him, his battle aura took over the rest of his senses and he knew nothing until everything was peaceful once again. It was the reason he lived so secluded, in the middle of nowhere practically. It was more dangerous with the cat creatures out, but Shatol was getting used to them now, ever since meeting his first one.
His wiry body heaved with weariness. The demon in him had gotten loose again; it was getting harder to keep it suppressed. The super strength and agility granted him by the dark soul also caused him great exhaustion. A couple times, Shatol had awakened to find that he had fainted after a decent skirmish. Now he dreaded the day that the demon would take his life; but in some ways, he also wished it.
Shaking his narrow head, he lay down to the still Earth and rested as the breeze blew across his fur. His mind was slowing down, his heart slowing down, his eyes dropping heavily. Memories raced through his mind.
'A Demon! A Demon! Everyone flee!' The calls of a terror stricken rottweiler drifted through into Shatol's den at the edge of the pack's valley.
He was on his feet in seconds, juvenile, brash, and slow in the wits. Crowds of young and old dogs raced across the grassy clearing, many calling back to lost family members. Shatol's mind raced as he joined the maddened and panicked flight across the plains.
'Blood be mine.' A lethal hiss sounded in his ear and Shatol turned his head to look back at what had made such a horrifying intonation. Before he could get a good look, he was down! Tripped by a rock! Impossible! Shatol tried to scramble to his feet but the other fleeing dogs did nothing to help the stranded lone wolf. Instead they trampled him unheedingly to the ground until it seemed as if every bone in his young body were broken. And sure enough when the stampede was past, he found that he was in fact broken in many places. So many as he could not even stand.
Now he had no choice but to look upon his soon to be executor, a thin shadow figure that ran across the ground as if on air. It had no definite shape that he could tell, but he could see it's stark red eyes, glaring at him as it drew nearer.
'Help me! Come back!' Shatol screamed to the faint sounds of running paws. 'Curse them!' he whimpered as the demon came within feet of his defeated body. 'Curse all of them.'
Shatol's eyes closed tightly as the demon reached for him, felt the cold grasp of its deathly hands clutch his heart. Felt the searing heat that traveled the length of his veins, felt the pain of his broken bones as his body involuntarily twitched in spasms, then he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. He could not even hear his own heartbeat anymore. Because there was none.
Shatol's eyes snapped open and quickly took in his surroundings. His body felt a whole lot better now after sleeping only a few minutes. His ears pressed against his skull, Shatol remembered those last words of his: 'Curse all of them'. He was living that curse. He was 'dead' by normal standards, yet still more alive than many other beings. His veins ran cold, his heart not at all, but his mind was not dead; though often was taken over by the demon who had made itself a home in his soul.
Two.
The rustling stopped.
Three. Shatol dropped onto his stomach and flattened himself to the earth. A black cat-like body flew over his head, landing sprawling in the dirt beside him. Shatol rolled the opposite direction of the attacker and came to his feet as another black form landed where he had been crouched.
Shatol spread his long legs apart in a defensive posture and lowered his head in a thin snarl, no sound yet escaping his mouth. The two creatures regained their feet and revealed their own teeth, large canines such as a feline would have, and their cat whiskers seemed like bristles from a brush as they stuck out in all directions.
Shatol sprang silently, catching one by surprise and rolling it over so that its underbelly was exposed. The silver wolf gutted the cat creature in two long swipes of his forepaws, but its intestines became caught around Shatol's paws as he was turning around to face the other and he fell onto his chest amid the blood and entrails. Luckily for him, it caused the black demon to miss his head by mere inches. Shatol freed himself and pounced on the feline, ripping the back of its neck out to the bone. The cat's head dropped limply followed by the rest of its body.
Shatol blinked confusedly in the aftermath of the short battle. This always happened to him, his battle aura took over the rest of his senses and he knew nothing until everything was peaceful once again. It was the reason he lived so secluded, in the middle of nowhere practically. It was more dangerous with the cat creatures out, but Shatol was getting used to them now, ever since meeting his first one.
His wiry body heaved with weariness. The demon in him had gotten loose again; it was getting harder to keep it suppressed. The super strength and agility granted him by the dark soul also caused him great exhaustion. A couple times, Shatol had awakened to find that he had fainted after a decent skirmish. Now he dreaded the day that the demon would take his life; but in some ways, he also wished it.
Shaking his narrow head, he lay down to the still Earth and rested as the breeze blew across his fur. His mind was slowing down, his heart slowing down, his eyes dropping heavily. Memories raced through his mind.
'A Demon! A Demon! Everyone flee!' The calls of a terror stricken rottweiler drifted through into Shatol's den at the edge of the pack's valley.
He was on his feet in seconds, juvenile, brash, and slow in the wits. Crowds of young and old dogs raced across the grassy clearing, many calling back to lost family members. Shatol's mind raced as he joined the maddened and panicked flight across the plains.
'Blood be mine.' A lethal hiss sounded in his ear and Shatol turned his head to look back at what had made such a horrifying intonation. Before he could get a good look, he was down! Tripped by a rock! Impossible! Shatol tried to scramble to his feet but the other fleeing dogs did nothing to help the stranded lone wolf. Instead they trampled him unheedingly to the ground until it seemed as if every bone in his young body were broken. And sure enough when the stampede was past, he found that he was in fact broken in many places. So many as he could not even stand.
Now he had no choice but to look upon his soon to be executor, a thin shadow figure that ran across the ground as if on air. It had no definite shape that he could tell, but he could see it's stark red eyes, glaring at him as it drew nearer.
'Help me! Come back!' Shatol screamed to the faint sounds of running paws. 'Curse them!' he whimpered as the demon came within feet of his defeated body. 'Curse all of them.'
Shatol's eyes closed tightly as the demon reached for him, felt the cold grasp of its deathly hands clutch his heart. Felt the searing heat that traveled the length of his veins, felt the pain of his broken bones as his body involuntarily twitched in spasms, then he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. He could not even hear his own heartbeat anymore. Because there was none.
Shatol's eyes snapped open and quickly took in his surroundings. His body felt a whole lot better now after sleeping only a few minutes. His ears pressed against his skull, Shatol remembered those last words of his: 'Curse all of them'. He was living that curse. He was 'dead' by normal standards, yet still more alive than many other beings. His veins ran cold, his heart not at all, but his mind was not dead; though often was taken over by the demon who had made itself a home in his soul.