"In legends, anything is possible…"
It was dense within the forest that night and inside the humidity levels were beyond phenomenal. Not even the native animals that had lived there almost all their lives wanted to dare creep out into the abnormal hazy heat. The humidity alone could scare off even the sturdiest of kings.
The atmosphere inside the forest could resemble that of a desert at day – hence the wet heat and spontaneous sandstorms. They both held the legendary signature "trap of death" within their grasp – and still holding tightly.
The tall, looming trees that usually towered over the animal-worn pathways, providing shade for those who were trapped outside, were unusually thick with moisture, adding to the sticky, overpowering heat. The broad leaves that lay underneath the canopy top were oozing out its own food and some sort of wet substance, in attempts to rid the forest of its suffocating sickness of warmth. Even the animals, again, sensed that something was very wrong. That something was changing. That something was happening….
A family of tigers had made their way up a large, broad tree, in attempts to seek shelter from the trap below them. They had already abandoned their home, burrowed deep, just below the tree. The higher one goes, the cooler it gets, as the birds sought refuge there, so did the rest of the animals – the ones who could climb, the rest? They sought sanctuary within the ground themselves, in hopes of waiting out the heat – inside it.
The family was already half-starved, and on the brink of thirst deprivation, and eventually leading into death. The alpha male of the group stood tall and erect, awaiting and protecting his family and children from any physical danger. For hours it had not moved, not even when its children started biting his tail. Then, after hours of waiting, it cocked its head, its ears suddenly twitching here and there as if to pinpoint a noise it had heard that was not from the forest. The male's entire back hair stood static and rough. It sensed danger, and its family knew it. The cubs started to whimper, but were silenced by the low, threatening growl of their mother, who had stood to stand by the father – for support.
A loud, deafening noise rocketed throughout the forest, practically shaking the leaves of the trees, and the bark of their wood. The bushes of the forest were quaking in their place, and a loud thundering roar erupted from the north, where the mountains were placed. The tigers growled and whimpered in fright. This was not normal in their world. This wasn't supposed to be possible. The
mother almost lost balance on the tree but was saved only by her own claws. The father had one of his children clamped tightly in his jaws, by the back of its neck. The other child was to be held by its mother.
The proud family waited the abnormality out. If they could survive the heat, they could survive this. The roar lasted for many minutes, growing louder and louder each second. The birds had already risked the awaiting terrors outside, and had flown away. Animal whimpers and feral groans could be heard deep into the forest. The animals that thrived there could feel the vibration through the floor.
As suddenly as it came, the roaring stopped, the tremors ceased and the cries of the animals were silenced like a blade slicing through air. No matter how long the animals of the forest waited, nothing more could be heard coming out of the mountains. Nothing could be felt through the ground. The humid, sweat-drenching heat had disappeared as if it had never been there. No evidence could be found to prove that the events that just took place were not just a fragment of one's imagination.
Just as the cubs of the proud family were about to jump off the tree and into the silent forest below them, naively thinking that everything was safe and everyone could come out, the quiet, menacing growl emanated once more from the male. It stood and sniffed the air, crouching low and pouncing off the tree and landing elegantly onto the forest floor. The male twisted around and walked north – towards the mountain and then stopped. All was peaceful, but no animals had dared to come out except him. The male could sense something else. Some thing was coming their way – and fast. Abruptly, the male pounced up, back onto the tree, and shielded its family from view. It looked down and scanned the forest floor intently for some unforeseen danger.
Just as the male was about to give up, its instincts gave it a split second to react before something – or someone – crashed through the bushes below them and run frantically through the forest floor. The figure ran with frightening speed, and after a few moments, it could be recognized as a human, or, something of it.
The figure was obviously male, but barely wore any clothing except around the waist in the form of shorts. The man was very muscular, with muscles rippling throughout his entire body from days of hard work. His body was littered with scars made from a smooth object, like a whip, and his hands looked rough from days of work with heavy tools. The man had very curly, dark brown hair, almost black from a distance, but in the light one could see the truth. He had a rough, chiseled face and a square chin with small cuts looked to be made from a sharp knife. He was tall, almost six foot four, nearly five, and he was wearing no shoes to protect his feet from the thorns that were scattered throughout the forest floor.
The man looked quite regular, maybe even handsome in other circumstances, until one saw his eyes. Once the alpha male saw the man's eyes, it was stricken with fear, and it was almost tempted to abandon his family and whimper. All thoughts of killing the man for food were banished out of the depths of its mind. The tiger was not stupid, it had seen a few others like him, but this was
the first time it had seen its colour so pure, so clear, and so close up, as if it had been made from the gods themselves.
The man's eyes were gold. Not, brown, tarnished, or dulled, but pure gold.
This man was a Wereling.
Wereling's were creatures from legends that were not supposed to be true. They were only stories. An old wives tale told to scare the human children to not come into the woods at night, or day. Wereling's were beings who were supposed half human, half animal, but kept their human form. Evil creatures that roamed and terrorized freely in the night – and day. They were not restricted by law, or honor. The only law they lived by was to kill anything in sight – for food. The only way one could distinguish a Wereling from a human crowd was by its eyes.
Werelings however, were noble creatures. No matter how much one denied it, Werelings only killed if it had to, and it never killed a human unless necessary. Werelings have a superior intellect compared to most beings, and thrived on the concept of freedom. They despised the chains of rules, or a government who controlled everything they did. They despised the idea of being stuck in a room for more than an hour, for Werelings were free beings, but when angered, they were vicious animals. The Werelings hated to be found, they hated the invasion of privacy, and were as territorial as wolves and the cat kingdom put together. Wereling were rare creatures, and only fought fair fights. They only used their superior strength when necessary, but never stopped being alert. Werelings were renowned for their inability to be timorous or afraid. It was almost impossible to make a Wereling fearful, and when one was, one should be afraid too.
That is why the alpha male was terrified.
The Wereling looked as if he has seen a ghost, and was running away from it as if his life depended on it. From a distance, it seemed as if the figure was carrying a short sword, but if one could look closely, they would be able to see that it wasn't a short sword he was carrying, but a long, large, broad sword, with articulate, ancient carvings all along its blade, capable of slicing a broad tree in half with the right swing and strength. The carvings were in the form of symbols – ancient lettering that had not been seen for thousands of years.
On the man's right shoulder blade, a similar, ancient symbol appeared to be tattooed there. Except it was different than those that were engraved into the sword's blade, newer yet more elegant in such a way it looked like part of his body – a work of art. The tattoo looked to had been burned onto his skin; it was permanent and black as the depths of hell itself. The only traces of colour that could be found were blood red flicks on the ends of its points, as if the tattoo itself had been dripped in human blood before it had been burned onto ones skin. It edges blended into the man's skin, as if he had been born with it. There were no stretches, nor burn marks on the skin itself, it was flawless in every sense of the word.
Through feral instincts, initiated by the panic the sight of the strange Wereling, the alpha male leaped off the tree to the ground and chased after the man in full flight, leaving its family behind. To normal eyes, the tiger would only have been seen as just an orange blur of colour, blending into the woods. Only a flutter of leaves leaving the ground would have been left from its flight. The alpha male stalked the Wereling deep into the woods. Twisting and turning, lunging and
hurdling itself onto the treetops or floor when necessary, it refused to be found. In any other circumstances, the Wereling would have already sensed that something was following him, but he was too busy focusing all his energy on running away from something behind him than look back and see his pursuer.
The alpha male tracked the Wereling deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest, into unfamiliar territory. It started to become uneasy with its surroundings. The trees began to steadily grow into wild and untamed clusters of leaves, vines, thorns, and bark. This was not its territory. Yet still it followed on, relentlessly. The Wereling lead the alpha male into the heart of the forest, where he dropped his sword and collapsed onto the forest floor, thick with dead, dried leaves and vines, under a large unfamiliar tree. The tree looked ancient, and had thick dark areas on its bark as if it had seen too many battles in its lifetime. The Wereling's breathing was shallow, and he looked to be too exhausted to even move, let alone breathe.
The alpha male stopped and waited in a distance. It surveyed its surroundings with caution, waiting for any threats to reveal itself. The tiger waited for many minutes, yet still it remained, uncaring and stoic. It lingered until it was dark to come out, when the man was sleeping peacefully. It sniffed its surrounding once more before carefully making its way toward the slumbering figure. The alpha male made sure to avoid the dry sticks and leaves that littered the floor stubbornly, but that proved to become impossible when it was nearer the Wereling.
The alpha male stopped, just outside the circle of dry sticks and leaves that surrounded the Wereling, and leaned in, carefully so not to disturb the resting male. It stopped just mere millimeters from the man's body and it opened its jaws slightly, as if to lick the man, to taste him, but instead, the alpha male inhaled the man's scent. Once it did, the tiger leaped back as if in shock and sneezed. The Wereling's scent was different somehow, different from the others. It was only a minor difference but it was enough for the tiger to really think hard. It was as if the Wereling had been touched by something divine, evil or not, he had an unusual aura around him.
Once again, the alpha male leaned it, but found that it could not reach the man. So it took a chance and stepped forward a little more. The male could not see the man's face, but instead his back. So it tilted its head lightly forward and nudged the man's shoulder blade.
His right shoulder blade.
Instantly, once the alpha male's wet nose unwittingly touched the dry skin of the man's tattoo, a blinding flash of white light materialized from his shoulder blade. It glowed and grew warmer, scaring the alpha male so much it scampered back to its hiding place a few yards away. It watched the man glow until its eyes hurt too much and tried to turn around and flee, but found that it could not. A magnetic pull tugged at the tiger's body, and it grew painful when the alpha male refused to move. Reluctantly, the male staggered towards the Wereling with sluggish movements, then stopped when it was almost on top of the man. The tiger once more nudged the man's body to wake him with its nose, but growled in pain when its forehead burned with a fury.
If anyone, ore anything, were to look and the scene unfolding in the heart of the forest, they would have seen that the same symbol on the man's shoulder blade was burning itself onto the alpha male's forehead. They would have heard the feral howls of all the animals of the forest, and
the anguished roar of the male tiger. They would have seen the birds of the woods circle the two beings, and would have felt the violent tremors start once more.
They would have noticed the faint, ancient whisperings of an unknown language weave itself all throughout the wood, enticing any being within hearing distance.
But they would not have remembered, because just as the anguished roar of the alpha male silences, an explosion of light erupted from the two figures, burning everything it touched….
A/N - Hello everyone, this was just an english assign,ent that was handed to me to finish, basically an ILO - i don't know whethere or not im going to continue this but we'll see.
I do fan fiction for Alex rider as well, called - Why work alone when you could have a partner? - Its got the longest chapters (2) ive ever written, and i still don't know how i do it...
Review please? I need insparation, and thats th whole reason why my story on is on haitius, because i have no more insparation.
thanks for reading, i'll be happy to talk and please no flames. i prefer critisism if you must, because i myself is a critic, but a nice one :P