DISCLAIMER: I don't own Wolf's Rain.
:TOWARDS A LOST PARADISE:
a Wolf's Rain fanfiction
by Comtessa
:CHAPTER 2:
:Paw prints left behind:
"Maybe this time tomorrowthe rain will cease to follow
and the mist will fade
into one more today…."
Wolf's Rain 1º ending
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"…." Talking
….+ Thoughts
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Little by little, his stomach's incessant churning subsided under the effects of the food. It was now time for him to find rest…. And heal.
Limping, Kiba moved away from the stinking alley. With every labored step, his paws left wobbly red prints of blood on the black cobbles. Artificial clouds were gathering up over him and the sound of fake thunders rumbling echoed in the confines of the dome's ceiling. Soon it would start to rain. He needed to find some form of shelter before it did, for he feared that even the lazy pounding of the drops would tumble him down. Forever.
He dragged himself forward, head bent, muscles stiff from the overexertion.
He padded towards a small covered corner created by the poorly constructed arquitecture of two stone buildings. Here it was at least dry and the rain wouldn't bother him much.
Tired... So tired+
Shakily, the white wolf fell on his knees and then laid down on his side, completely still. His golden pools, once full of the regal light so characteristic of his spirit, now looked tiredly ahead. He stared through half-lidded eyes at the busy streets crowded with humans as they passed by as if in slow motion.
He snarled.
Kiba hated them, every single one of them, just as much as he hated Nature's designs. He hated the way She had allowed those pitiful humans to destroy his kin. Hated how She had let them all die away and be forgotten, while he had survived it all…. Only to have him rot alone in a colorless city, under the human's feet.
…. And he hated to have as only hope for the future an old, mythical legend of a lost place on Earth that, apparently, only he knew the way to.
He snorted. +Yeah, right.+
His trace? The voice of a Flower Maiden that craved for wolven blood. A sweet, honeyed voice which he had only heard once in his mind, a long time ago and that it could bloody well be a mere figment of his screwed up imagination! And then, of course, was the faint fragrance of a single Moon Flower that could also be a bloody figment of his muzzle for all he knew!
Another snort. He narrowed his eyes and glared ahead.
Yes, well that would be just priceless, wouldn't it? For him to have imagined it all.
So many doubts…. +No, I need to stay focused, to believe.+
"Remember, young leader, always remain strong and true to your beliefs. It is the only way to live with honor in this world where the old Lines of Power are fading…." The words echoed in the depths of his skull, in the papery, far away voice of an Elder of his Clan.
Such a long time since I've heard that word: honor. But where is it now, jijii-sama? Where is that forgotten Power, now that all of us are gone+
He yawned. His thoughts were becoming fuzzy and shattering away with sleep. Kiba allowed his eyelids to fall completely shut and sunk in the darkness of blissful unconsciousness.
Above him, a last dry rumble was heard before the artificial grayish-green sky cracked open and let the drops fall, one after another. They took their time in tumbling down, as if regretting having parted from their cloudy cradle at all.
Minutes later, they poured with ferocious intensity. And the wolf slept.
Meanwhile, some blocks away, a young boy shivered slightly. The rain had began to soak him mercilessly through his measly clothes.
"Mou, I shouldn't have come out today. Now I'll get sick," he grumbled in annoyance as he tried to push himself as far as he could against the cold surface of a building's wall.
But inside he knew perfectly well the reasons behind his current situation. It had been impossible for him to remain one single second longer in that house, all alone, and haunted by bitter dreams.
He sighed and hugged himself in a silly effort to spread some warmth to his already frozen limbs. With his brown head bent down, he relieved the day's tensions.
Once again Tooboe had been suffering from nightmares. He had awoken screaming, his breath heavy as if he had ran a great distance, with cold sweat beaded in his forehead. It had felt so vivid….so real. By now he should've been used to that sensation, to those old memories of pain and death. But he wasn't. No matter how many times he relieved them, night after night, he still feared.
Tooboe clutched his shoulders, shivering as if from the stinging cold.
No, not cold+ he thought +Fear...+
He didn't know exactly what most of them were about, those dreams; for barely seconds after he'd awoken, they'd vanished. And he would be left panting and terrified, with the distinct impression that he had re-lived something terrible in his sleep.
Something from his past.
And so, every morning he ached. Ached for the long tortuous days of his childhood spent outside the city's walls, abandoned, alone. For the hunger and emptiness he'd felt countless times during his short life. And for the death of the only person who had ever cared for him.
Thunder rumbled in the skies. A warning not to continue that line of thought.
Tooboe let his eyes wonder up, on the falling motion of the rain. He liked the rain. It made him feel as if, somehow, the world understood him for a day…. As if it felt as miserable as he did.
It was ironical, really, how rainy days tended to depress humans, he thought. How it seemed to remind them –or at least most of them- that it didn't matter how many others surrounded them, how friendly or caring or understanding they were, they were always individuals, and thus alone. Tooboe believed that the rain symbolized that. Thousand upon thousands of tiny little drops, all born form the same heavenly source, all falling together towards indefinite grounds…. But still, at the end of the journey, all single entities that can never completely merge with one another. No matter how hard they tried or how many of their kin they stumbled with upon the way.
He smiled and passed a quivering hand through his messy, coppery hair. Obaa-san had once said he was too contemplative for his own good. That he should be more practical and carefree, and not dwindle too much on emotions, for most of the times "too much thinking leads nowhere".
"But, obaa-san," he had whined. "Aren't we supposed to analyze things before acting?"
"Yes, child, of course. But you're way too young to be so….calculating. Enjoy yourself more; be more….instinctual."
A tear rolled unchecked through his cheek.
He'd been mad at the time for being called a child. He hated that. "I'm NOT a child, obaa-san. I'm almost sixteen years next full moon!" He'd always scowl at her for diminishing him, and she'd always smile at his silly tantrums.
He missed her. Oh, how the boy missed her indeed. But she had died long ago of old age and a tired body that had given up slowly and painfully to sickness. He had watched as she deteriorated day after day, and hadn't been able to do anything except mourn.
She had parted one day with the coming of the dawn, and the boy had been left behind. Abandoned and alone. Again.
Tooboe sighed and quickly wiped away the remains of his tears. It wouldn't do for him to start crying over her again. It would take him nowhere, anyway. Besides, depression never bode well with his character.
Straightening, he shook his head to clear it from water and dark thoughts.
Tooboe started forward then, walking slowly through the side walks of the ashen-gray city that was his home…. Silently mirroring a tiny drop of rain.
"Is somebody there
behind these heavy, aching feet?
Still the road
Keeps on telling me to go on.
Something is pulling me
And I feel the gravity of it all."
Wolf's Rain 1º ending.
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A/N: Ok, Done! Thank you very much for those who reviewed, and for taking time and reading my story. ) Domou arigatou gozaimasu!
Please don't forget to review! )
C.o.m.t.e.s.s.a
"Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals/of things half given away/half withheld/of joys with a dark hemisphere/Nights act that way, I tell you."
J.L.B.