12-10-2021, 06:22 AM
He stood at the base of the great mountain, staring grimly up toward the peak. The rigid lines of his body coupled with the absolute stillness of his carriage could have seen him mistaken for a stone carving, but only the gentle fog of his breath betrayed the image. The man - the wolf - seemed trapped in time, silently reliving a bitter memory.
It looked just like it. Minus a few details here and there, up to and including a small village at its base, but the jagged spires and unforgiving silhouette was unmistakably familiar. The Oni's mountain had been a dreadful, treacherous climb, nearly ending in his demise from the brittle rock-face alone. In his mind's eye, he could still see lightning flash white-hot across his vision and hear the growing thunder that accompanied each bolt. He could feel his hands, bloody and raw. His muscles ached.
Yet he had made his oath, and duty saw that it must be fulfilled.
If only the Oni hadn't killed him first.
Heaving a low sigh, Osamu turned his head away from the scene, gazing back into the coniferous forest he had found himself in. How sharp everything smelled - particularly the scent of wolf, but for the first time, it was not just the pungent scent of wild animal he had been accustomed to in his past life. This smell came with a peculiar flavor, a color, perhaps; as individual as a woman's perfume or a man's cologne. It had a sense of belonging. Of many.
Osamu suddenly realized how hungry he was, and as memories of hot buns and sake flashed across his mind, he was quite surprised to find that they were slowly being replaced by thoughts of wild hare and venison. He flicked an ear, shifting uncomfortably. That might have been well and good, but for some reason, this time he really wanted them bleeding and raw, which was simply not done.
Yet wolves did not cook their food.
He glanced up at the falling snow, and silently mourned.
@Hydra
It looked just like it. Minus a few details here and there, up to and including a small village at its base, but the jagged spires and unforgiving silhouette was unmistakably familiar. The Oni's mountain had been a dreadful, treacherous climb, nearly ending in his demise from the brittle rock-face alone. In his mind's eye, he could still see lightning flash white-hot across his vision and hear the growing thunder that accompanied each bolt. He could feel his hands, bloody and raw. His muscles ached.
Yet he had made his oath, and duty saw that it must be fulfilled.
If only the Oni hadn't killed him first.
Heaving a low sigh, Osamu turned his head away from the scene, gazing back into the coniferous forest he had found himself in. How sharp everything smelled - particularly the scent of wolf, but for the first time, it was not just the pungent scent of wild animal he had been accustomed to in his past life. This smell came with a peculiar flavor, a color, perhaps; as individual as a woman's perfume or a man's cologne. It had a sense of belonging. Of many.
Osamu suddenly realized how hungry he was, and as memories of hot buns and sake flashed across his mind, he was quite surprised to find that they were slowly being replaced by thoughts of wild hare and venison. He flicked an ear, shifting uncomfortably. That might have been well and good, but for some reason, this time he really wanted them bleeding and raw, which was simply not done.
Yet wolves did not cook their food.
He glanced up at the falling snow, and silently mourned.
@Hydra
the staff team luvs u