The Fire

Prelude


Jehar rushed into the flames, legs pumping furiously to escape the fires that pressed in on him, like hands seeking him out of the night. The cries of wolves had been caught in the wind and echoed about in the twisted burning landscape; filled the night in such a way that would have made Jehar leap to their aid at any other time, but now his thoughts were focused on one thing. The cries of the others soon faded away like the smoke that streaked across the sky but the persistent fires continued to rage around him. A pulsing orange light and heat before him and the spark mingled with sunlight some where far above him. The ground beneath his paws continued to grow hotter until it seemed he ran on a bed of coals as scalding as the fire that burned and scarred the woods around him. A small cave appeared for a second thru the smoke and he leapt towards it, his hard compact muscles uncoiling like springs. The cave was silent, the whispering of his fears in the back of his mind like spiders crawling over dead leaves. The charred and blackened walls cried out in echo to the growing darkness on his heart. He took a few steps further in and could not hold in the piercing howl that shook through his heart any longer, he let it out into the burning day. The corpse of his dearest friend, his mate, laid as a still darkened shape. Dead protecting their home and the harsh secret that they harbored. His heart warmed at such bravery and dedication to the false words that had become their salvation. But he knew that what his fear had been whispering in the back of his head was true. He turned to leave the cave but the fire out side had grown to an impossible screaming bolero of flame and heat . The caves entrance was a wall of flawless flame, pressing into the depths of the cave like a beggar seeking for answers and truth. The heat was unbearable and Jehar knew his time was running out. He shot one last look at what was his life as it was, now his past, and jumped into the flames, into the inferno. He did not know how long he ran but by the end of his trek his thick mist gray fur was a reflection of the sky, a rich growing dark that seemed stark contrast with the woods of his packs grounds. His once proud muzzle and face marked by scars of fights for mastery, now lay in the ruins of deep gouges left by falling embers, and a smoke like haze tugged at the corners of his amber yellow eyes. His body called out for rest, and thoughts of the recent events slipped thru his mind like a rain flooded stream through rapids. And as he lay there, a faint drizzle of rain slipped through the bows of the trees towering high above his head. A clear and strong current raced among those branches and like jade crystals, the pine needles broke free of their ceremonial pillars, dancing through the air towards a lake of the clearest morning blue. The failing sun light merged behind the distant mountains, and from his resting spot Jehar could see the many mountain streams glittering like golden scaled snakes, feeding the lake that had once been home to his pack. The drizzle of rain turned into a sweeping torrent, a cascade of brilliant droplets that fell like pure gold, sinking into the blacked earth and fed the roots of the soaring monoliths. His last clear thought before his internal fog shrouded his mind was that of his dearest friend, standing there beside him, both of their faces silhouetted by a moon as large as the lake that it was suspended over, its whiteness only rivaled by that of the mountain snow. And darkness took him. He was the only living thing left among those giant towers of trees, and only barely. The serenade of water soaked into his fur and seemed to return to him some of the life that it gave to the forest. As night fell, a large perfect orb of white soared thru the sky, and looked down on him from the dark green tips of the pillars in his private cathedral, and the forest ached for the rift that had been made between lives that evening. A line had been drawn, those of the survivors and those of the dead. Life was for the living and the moon moved on in its silent passage across the sky, not paying mind to anything that slept beneath it, weather in the deep dream filled sleep of a troubled heart, or the shallow but eternal sleep of those who hearts would never be troubled again.