DISCLAIMER: I don't own Wolf's Rain.

:TOWARDS A LOST PARADISE:

a Wolf's Rain fanfiction

by Comtessa

:CHAPTER 1:

:Heaven's not enough:

"Been a long road to follow,

been there and gone tomorrow

without saying goodbye to yesterday

Are the memories I hold still valid?

Or have the tears deluded them?"

(Wolf's Rain 1º ending)

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Some time later, Kiba reached the dome-city.

It was cold in there, too. Not as much as in the exterior, but quite cold still. For though here it didn't snow, the air felt damp and chilly like the dried coldness of an ice cube, and it seeped through his already wet white fur, freezing him to the bones.

Many humans were around, going on their business and staring puzzled at him as he passed them by. Some even pointed or tried to entice him calling him to them as if he were one of their pets. Should he hide or let them see him as one more of their kin?

Agh. Let them see what they please. I don't care at all, he mentally scowled. He was indeed too tired and hurt to care either way.

Kiba growled low in his throat. He could feel stabs of pain on his wounded hind leg. The pain that had dulled to a constant throb during his trudge in the snow, had now re-emerged with a fiery fury. The wound had also started bleeding again and infecting; he could clearly feel the putrid blood seeping through the fur of his leg. During his trip in the exterior he hadn't wanted to stop to properly heal it for fear that once he laid down, he wouldn't be able to get up again.

The smells of meat and food cooking assaulted his senses no sooner he stepped in the dome, and were now re-awakening his stomach, too. But beneath it all, the urge to find the lost trace pushed him forward almost mercilessly. "Just a little more," it beckoned. And Kiba followed.

He dazedly passed through many crowded yet equally desolate streets; wounded, as in a dream-state, through countless alleys and dark passages. Humans were everywhere in this city, their stench making Kiba's head swim.

How was he supposed to find a single Moon Flower in this sea of nauseating smells and faces…. But he would, he knew he would. Simple. Just like I've been doing for more days than I've cared to count. Just trudge on and t--

He stiffened. Reaching his muzzle up and closing his eyes in concentration, he sniffed the air. It was only a faint scent, almost unperceivable under the polluted surroundings and his congestionated nose, but was there nonetheless…. Kiba could bet his life on it.

The bitter-sweet, enticing smell of raw meat.

His stomach immediately reacted and grumbled painfully louder than anytime before, as if telling him, "I'm not kidding this time, this isn't your decision anymore. I NEED FOOD." He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, the action randomly dispersing snowflakes and drops of cold water from his fur coat. No, the trace--, his conscious, obsessed mind argued; but he wasn't even able to finish his train of thought before another excruciating wave of pain ran through him. He lowered his head and shuddered.

Kiba knew it was a lost cause. He desperately needed the food and a little rest immediately, or he would meet with a paradise alright…. But this one wouldn't be on Earth.

Stumbling a little, he moved towards the acrid scent of meat and blood, leaving behind the dark red marks of his injured paw on the dirty cobbled street.

He was consciously trying not to use his injured leg at all, but it was proving to be an impossible task. He knew the red liquid he could now feel warmly marring his once immaculate fur wouldn't stop unless he licked it clean.

But I don't have time.

As he moved slowly, the sooty streets unwounded themselves before him, making the wolf wonder, for the thousandth time, how was it possible that such a weak, decaying race as humanity had been able to successfully erase his proud, strong one in just a few years. But again, Kiba remembered what the Wise Elders used to say to him on the days when the fat silvery moon could be clearly seen high in the skies from the top of the Howling Mountains: "Don't ever question Nature's doings, young leader. She's a clever, artful ruler of all things living, and her decisions are to be accepted, not put to test."

"You're wrong, jijii-sama," a younger version of himself had replied. "Humans are no Nature's creatures. They are the plague that is slowly corrupting Her heart, and will be the end of us all."

If he had only known how true those words would prove to be….

He smiled grimly, a mere show of deadly fangs and powerful jaws. His golden eyes darkened like two pools of molten amber as the heavy weight of uncalled memories from yonder days crushed him. In those times, he had been preparing himself to take the control of the pack of the Mountain Wolfs from the East as their new selected leader. His job was going to be to guide them safely through the treacherous paths of the Snowy Peaks, further in the depths of the East, to new and wealthier grounds. But extinction, that silent and dark shadow, had caught up to them faster than any river thawing in summer…. And, in the blink of an eye they had all died, vanishing under his very muzzle, and leaving him powerless and completely alone.

Why? Why were they suddenly hunted? Why did I not see...? The questions ran rampant in his mind, never giving him a moments peace.

He focused on the path ahead and mentally counted the cobbles under his feet to force his mind back to reality.

Finally, after having had trod aimlessly through the damp passages of that pathetic, ashen-gray city, Kiba encountered the source of the smell. And felt bitterly disappointed.

He found himself at the entrance of a small alley, surrounded by the tall walls of several human edifications. Before him, a poor group of half-rotten stray dogs were ferociously devouring something that Kiba, from his position, could still not clearly distinguish.

They're so noisy, he thought, as the yips, growls and whines grew in intensity and savageness.

The animals were a group of seven very famished beings, dirty and grotesque. The typical sight of abandoned lap-dogs that one encounters in a degenerated city where not even humans themselves matter much.

They were barking and biting, tearing each other to threads in order to get at least a little taste of whatever they were eating. Also, they were obviously too many and too hungry for a prey that Kiba guessed was tiny and seemed to have suffered from the same kind of famish as the other dogs before having died.

Kiba approached them stealthily, trying not to give away his presence just yet and narrowing his eyes to better see. Nonetheless, when he was almost behind them, the strays turned in alarm.

The wind had been on their side and it had inavertedly brought the odd scent of the Wild with it. Their mood darkened. They growled and barked menacingly, foam and blood dripping from their jaws. Suddenly bombarded with such tantalizing sight –making his stomach churn in hunger- Kiba was finally forced to avert his gaze, fearing he might go mad.

Oblivious to the wolf's inner turmoil, the dogs glared at the new comer with rage and suspicion. The food was very little and their group had been starving for weeks now; they would not allow a strange foreigner to join the feast.

But as soon as they sniffed the new comer to identify his scent and archive it for future reference, something major clicked in their heads. Some unknown, primitive sensation awakened, flooding their senses with such fear as they had never felt before; a warning that the white beast with piercing eyes in front of them was dangerous beyond what any of them could ever imagine.

Some dogs –the brighter ones- heeded the warning immediately and, whimpering, backed away. For there stood the Wilderness they did not consciously know but instinctually recognized. A Wilderness that their ancestors had left behind thousand upon thousands of years before and that, with the passing of the ages, had lost Name to them.

Slowly, one by one, they retreated to the darkest corners and away from the alley, knowing that the white creature was far too powerful an enemy to challenge, even when obviously wounded.

As the dogs moved lankily away, Kiba advanced. Intimidating, he stepped near them, a low constant growl sounding from deep within. Yet to his surprise, one of the strays didn't back away. On the contrary, it stood it's ground proudly over the teared and bloodied prey. Barking as menacingly as it could, it threatened to disembowel the wolf if he even dare lay a paw on his meal.

Mmm. He must be the leader. Such silly animal, he should know better by now.

Kiba allowed a lazy, predatorial smile full of sharp fangs and formidable jaws to grace his face. The human pet was actually challenging him! What a stupid notion….

He lowered his body slightly in a waiting stance, and readied himself to spring. He was hurting everywhere, and the added pressure on his hind leg was creating new stabs of pain that put his hair on ends and made his vision blur. But he would attack. Already he could feel his blood pounding in expectation, the desire to rip the other's throat enveloping him in sheer ecstasy.

And so, faster than a lightning's flash, he jumped high over the skinny stray, driving his claws deep in the other's left side.

The dog groaned loudly in pain and, tumbling, retreated.

He's trying to improve his chances with a surprise attack! But Kiba's thoughts were cut short when the dog propelled itself forward and jumped over him, successfully pinning him to the ground and trying to bite the wolf's neck off. Quickly, Kiba turned and moved abruptly, making them both whirl and bump against a wall, hard.

Movements succeeded each other, one after the other, so fastly that the fighters seemed to merge together and become a blurry black-and-white shape.

Growls and whimpers resounded all throughout the cramped alley, as desperation and blood lust overtook them both.

But as time flew by, the fighters tired. The stray dog's movements faltered considerably when compared to the agility of the white wolf.A simple pet cannot defeat me. It will not defeat me. It was this constant, pounding mantra the one that momentarily transformed Kiba in that forgotten mountain wolf's leader that he had once strived to be.

He growled ferociously and lounged.

In an instant, the fight was over. The body of the challenger laid dead-still at Kiba's feet, his once raven black fur now wet with the crimson liquid that freely seeped from the creature's ripped open throat.

Kiba was panting, the exertion having completely drained him. The inner beast that had been unleashed savagely under the stupid dog's petty challenge once again laid dormant inside of him; leaving him worn out, starving and absolutely drenched in blood. Whose blood was it exactly he couldn't say, but he felt painful needles in his neck and face whenever he moved them even in the least, so he supposed a good portion of it was also his.

Looking down through now clear gold eyes, he sneered. So the mutt managed to bit me after all…. Pity it ended up being useless.

He turned and stared at his prize. Nothing much remained of the prey for the strays had apparently been nipping at it for quite some time now. Its smell told Kiba that, when air had filled it's lungs and it's heart had been beating with life, it had also been a dog. No doubt an unfortunate member of the stray's group, too, whom the famish and street life had rendered completely useless. Once dead, the strays had taken advantage of the apparently favorable situation.

Kiba turned his head in disgust, but his stomach grumbled otherwise. What else did he expect in a place governed by human laws such as this city?

A wolf would never eat his own kind, not even in the worst of situations. It was an ancient commandment all wolves knew by heart. But he also knew perfectly well that rules and commandments could not be applied on this world anymore.

So, tumbling a little, he bent down and began nipping the flesh of the dead dog that lay at his feet.

After all, he is not part of my brethren, he told himself, in a useless effort to drown that uncomfortable, sinking feeling that had suddenly seemed to have settled in the pit of his stomach.

Guilt.

"Something somewhere out there

keeps calling,

am I going home?

Will I hear someone singing solace

To the silent moon?"

(Wolf's Rain 1º ending.)

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A/N: That's it for today. Thank you for taking the time of reading my story, I really appreciate it! I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and see you around!

Oh, and please don't forget to review! )

C.o.m.t.e.s.s.a.