This is my entry for Azila's POV contest, so please crit! And I would really appreciate it if you could answer the questions at the bottom after.
------
I've made a slight edit; hopefully there's an improvement. I struggle with characterization, so any tips on that (and it would be great if you could point out areas where I could develop Blizzard's personality more) are really appreciated. In fact, anyone who does that can expect a critique from yours truly.
Alphess - Part 1
The first shadows of dusk claw their way across the ground, forming a maze of light and shadows on the forest floor. I watch the crimson luminescence filter through the trees in a state of calm rapture; the solitude and serenity here are a blissful refuge from my sullen, quarreling pack.
The sun sinks ever lower. Soft, sparkling rays emanate from it, bathing the dark trunks of the surrounding maple trees in a red glow. It is a fiery scarlet eye cradled between the two hills that slope down from the forest where I rest now.
My pelt begins to prickle, but I do not move; my limbs are heavy with warmth, and I want to enjoy the sunset for a while longer. Here, there are no snapping teeth, no wild eyes glittering with malice. It seems strange that I would enjoy the sunset -- midnight is a time much more to my liking -- but today, I take the time to relax away from the pack.
The dusty earth beneath me is dry and powdery and the sleepy summer heat of it seeps in through the pads of my paws. Motes of dust dance in the shafts of light that slant in through the branches above me. I breathe in deeply and take in a heady combination of white-tailed deer, dry bracken, maple sugar, leaf mould...
"Blizzard?"
A familiar, drifting voice jolts me from my calm observations. My jaws part as the pack mage, Aurora, trots towards me, her agile form reduced to a shadow from the glare. I smelt her just as she appeared.
"Yes?" I reply, and rise to my paws. I shake leaves from my pelt and step forwards towards the she-wolf.
She looks nervous; her ears are flattened, and she shuffles her paws in the leaf mould. The first prickling of anxiety dances down my spine. "Laurel reported strange scents near the border... the border with Heather Pack."
The last traces of contentment leave my body. A snarl tears from between my teeth. The sun -- which only a short while ago had felt warm and soothing between my shoulder blades -- now seems ominous as it sinks beneath the hills. Come nightfall, Bane could be on my land. Aggression knots my muscles; Bane - the Heather Pack Alpha - and I go way back. But that is another story.
A gentle breeze sweeps through the forest, ruffling Aurora's coarse black fur. She swings her head around, nostrils flaring to catch the scents blown up from the valley. A moment later, she presses her ears against her head and growls from deep in her chest.
I incline my head towards the hills. "Shall we?"
She gives me the slightest of nods and we run off into the sunset.
* * *
Power surges through me as I lope down the grassy hillside, tongue lolling between my razor-sharp teeth. My paws press down on the springy grass and I can feel the cool evening air caressing my face.
We rise over another slope, gathering speed. Adrenaline, a feeling so light it is almost painful, unfurls inside me. And then --
The pack stands before us. I catch the flash of wary eyes, the bristling of pelts, the split-second gleam of bared fangs. But I do not even need to observe their body language to know of their feelings; the heavy reek of anxiety and fear is thick in the air. Many of the wolves turn to acknowledge me respectfully, dipping their heads and bringing their tails close to their bellies.
Behind the group, jagged black pine trees encroach on the clearing. The moon has not yet risen -- it is dusk, the space between night and day. The sky above is eerily white, like a stretch of snow.
I lift my head and trot over to them. My eyes seek one wolf in particular: Blackthorn, my mate. But I do not see him in the crowd -- Perhaps he is hunting? Aurora nods to me and flits over to her apprentice, Rowan.
"May I have a word, Blizzard?" I turn to see Laurel, a she-wolf whose pups have just left the nursing den. I nod, and she dips her head respectfully before coming to stand by my side.
"I have news, bad news. Bane and his followers are now on Starlight Pack lands."
I grow cold at her words; an icy fear washes over me like ice creeping over stone. What has my pack done to draw his attention? Shivering despite the heat of the sultry summer evening, I push the thought away and lift my tail.
"Then we will go and confront him."
* * *
The pack flows over a rise in a river of sleek pelts and glittering eyes. I like it the best when we run this way -- as one, each wolf perfectly synchronized with the rest. We are completely silent.
Suddenly, the lake looms in front of us, a glass-like black surface undisturbed by even the smallest ripple. Poppies dip their crimson heads around the shoreline of dark mud.
This is the lake where I met Bane as a pup of nine moons. This is the lake where my son was killed by Heather wolves.
This is the lake where I will have my revenge, if all goes well. If.
"Laurel, Sequoia, Jade," I call, glancing in the direction of two scouts and my daughter. "Skirt the western side of the lake and look for signs."
They dip their heads and brush by me, heading towards the water. As Jade -- my daughter -- passes, I see a small glitter of panic in her eyes. My heart clenches for her; the pack is strong, but the Heather wolves know thing that we do not. Some say that Bane ate a human heart so that he might know the thoughts of man. A growl of anger rumbles in my throat. The rumour, most likely, is not true, though I am sure that Bane would find a way to twist it to his advantage. That is what he does, after all: he feeds on fear, lets wolves believe what they want.
I am interrupted from my thoughts as my mate speaks close to my ear, "Do you want me to take some wolves around the Eastern side?" His breath tickles my cheek. I lean into his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his warm, soft fur against mine.
"I'll come with you," I murmur. I tell myself that this it is because Bane is more likely to be on the eastern side and that my mate might need my help, but I know that it is because I could not bear it if he were to injure himself.
We lope around to the fringe of the pack, where my beta is speaking to some younger wolves. He postures authoritatively: chest out, ears back, head raised. I watch with amusement as Zeta, a female of six moons, whines and mutters an apology. She is always causing trouble, even in the face of danger.
My beta shifts stances quickly as he sees us. "Blizzard, Blackthorn," he acknowledges us in the respectful manner of a beta to the alpha wolves.
"Takura," Blackthorn greets him with an affectionate nudge to the shoulder.
I dip my head courteously and ask, "Would you mind keeping an eye on the pack for a while? Blackthorn and I are going to patrol the eastern side of the lake."
"Of course not," he rumbles. "It would be an honour."
We give him our thanks and set off towards the water, but are interrupted as three whirlwinds of fur crash into us.
"Mother! Father!" Kesha, the runt of the litter, exclaims, her dark eyes shining like the surface of the lake.
A smile parts my jaws despite the situation. "Kesha, Tigerlily, Clover," I greet them, rasping my tongue over Tigerlily's ears. The other two tumble over each other in their haste to reach Blackthorn. But when he turns to face me, his amber eyes are dark. Our children are so innocent -- how could they possibly understand the depth of the problem? Their brother, Oak, from my first litter, was slaughtered here before they were born.
Blackthorn breaks the ice for me. "Your mother and I are going around the lake," he begins.
I finish for him, "How about you go and play with Rowan for a while? Ask her to teach you some mage-work."
Clover's black eyes shine with excitement. "Okay!" he exclaims, and they run off.
* * *
A chill wind picks up, bending the poppies and brushing our fur to a silky shine. I dig my claws into the earth and press forwards, slitting my eyes. A glance to my side tells me that Blackthorn is doing the same.
From up ahead, a howl shivers through the air. I stop suddenly and crouch down, hackles bristling. Silence floats down like snow, muffling all sound.
I feel the slight vibrations of paw-steps through the earth. Dread creeps stealthily over me. Blackthorn stiffens, drawing his lips back in a snarl.
I know who it is before he appears, but when he does, terror hits me like a blow from a grizzly's paw.
Bane stands on the rise above us, his oily black fur shining with moonlight.
"Blizzard," he intones calmly. His voice is cold and flat, like ice. "It has been too long."
I lift my head. I am an Alphess. I am not afraid.
But I am.
His gaze burns me. His eyes are the same as I remember: a bottomless, moon-ish green -
And suddenly you are nine moons old again, facing the Heather Pack Alpha for the first time. Your breath chafes in your chest and your limbs shake with fatigue.
Bane and his wolves are shifting silhouettes, the edges of their bodies blurring and tearing with the wind. But his eyes are clear and hard, two glaring emerald slashes against his dark, indistinct face.
"What do you want?" you cry miserably.
"What do I want?" Bane laughs. His teeth snap and shine, strangely solid in contrast to his streaming figure. His followers whisper in high, thin voices, "What do you want?" You wonder about this, eyes clouding with uncertainty. Surely, Bane would not offer you whatever you want -- your mother told you he was evil, after all. Your mother...
"I want... I want tonight to have never happened!"
He doesn't answer. Time stretches. It is impossible to read his expression, but you think he looks deep in thought. A small flower of hope blooms in your chest. Could he really erase the past?
When he speaks, that flower withers and dies. "I see the blood on your face, Blizzard," - then, in a whisper of mock despair, "You killed your mother!"
You wince and take a step back. Poppies brush against your legs. You can feel your mother's blood drying on your face, forming a stiff mask. A mask of deceit, a mask of cruelty, a mask of despair.
You whip around, face distorted in feral rage.
"I can offer you with a choice, Blizzard. You have already -" he lets the sentence hang.
Once again, indecision creeps into your mind. You have nowhere to go, no pack to take care of you. Bane is strong. He can teach you things... your mother's words sound in your mind, as soft as dew-beaded flower petals: "Do not trust him, Blizzard. He will consume you. There is no goodness in his heart."
"I don't know!" you wail, tearing up grass with your claws.
He lets out a harsh bark of laughter and steps forwards, menace etching hard lines in the set of his jaw, the way his ears ram forwards.
It is the same. You are here again, with the red, red poppies and the beautiful stars...
"Blizzard!
An urgent voice jolts me back to the present. I feel Blackthorn's nose on my cheek, and I open my eyes to see him gazing anxiously back at me. At first, I am disoriented, but then I tilt my head and see the stars swirling in the sky above me, the skyline of poppies. I stagger to my paws, leaning heavily on my mate's shoulder.
"Bane -- is he still here?" I croak. A twinge of embarrassment prickles inside me; I am an Alphess. I should not have to rely on others all the time.
"Of course I am," the Heather pack alpha replies coldly. Pride forces me not to flinch away from his icy tone; clearly, he has been remembering our first meeting also.
I take a moment to relax. If I am to confront him, I will need all my strength. I shake my fur as if to dislodge water after a rain. But I am removing something else now; memories spin away like droplets of water, each one a crystal-clear snapshot of the past.
"If you have come to convince me to return to your pack," I spit, "then do not waste your breath."
He doesn't even look mildly taken aback -- I wonder if he expected this. "Very well," he says placidly, "then we will have to play a little game."
The fur on my shoulders bristles. Bane is known for his games. "What kind of game?"
He flashes his teeth in a smile. "Hide-and-seek."
I know that he does not mean the kind of hide-and-seek that pups play. He means something more dangerous -- we will enter the spirit world, the world used for mage-work, and search for souls. Our own souls. And if we do not find them...
I turn to Blackthorn and give him a lick on the cheek. "Guard my body, please," I murmur, and sink into the bed of poppies. I ache to open my eyes again, but the anguish in Blackthorn's would be too much to bear.
Waves of emotion crash and roll inside me, but I suppress them under a smothering blanket of calm. I think of blankness, of indifference - the image of the dusk sky comes to mind: as white and unblemished as snow. Soon, I feel my soul begin to drift...
The spirit world shimmers into view before me. Bane crouches low in the crimson darkness, waiting.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, I know it needs a lot of work.
QUESTIONS:
1: Does the second person work for Blizzard's flashback?
2: Do you find that the first tense is distracting?
3: Could you picture the events clearly in your mind's eye?
Thank-you!
Gender:
Points: 1609
Reviews: 602