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View Full Version : Broken Soul ~PG-13~



Shiny Umbreon
27th July 2006, 11:11 AM
Broken Soul

Curious golden eyes blinked open for the first time as the small kit looked out on the new world. So many things to see, things to do, new friends to meet!


“Vee?” The small thing mewed questioningly, the kit’s head cocked to one side.


“Espi!” The Espeon mewed to her adventurous kit, lightly nudging the small thing with her nose.


Unsteady legs slowly padded forward, out of the soft blue velvet that covered the bottom of the small nest. Stumbling forward, whimpering as paws made contact with a cold surface, the Eevee eventually reached another soft surrounding beneath her paws after the cold marble of the hall. Shocked eyes looked around at the things cornering her, like the huge, frightening wooden things that seemed to reach up and connect, forming a complex design.


The young feline cocked her head again, then suddenly ran, screeching, back to her mother as she bumped into one of the monster’s legs. The Espeon purred with amusement as her kits returned, and she comforted her offspring with soothing licks to the juvenile’s fur.


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I now laugh. Laugh at what I was, laugh at how foolish I was, laugh at what I’ve become.


I’ve become nothing. I’ve wasted away; all of my frail ribs show through my tough, patchy skin, with some areas in which fur does not grow. Weary paws that ache, begging to stop, but I do not let them. After all, I am a wanderer. And I do not belong here, or anywhere. I may belong somewhere, somewhere called home. But there is no home for me.


A thin rustling in the bushes nearby tells me of prey, and my ears are pricked with anticipation, the blood rushing through my veins as if it must keep away from something yet keep up. Instinctively dropping, slowly creeping forward, I smell the scent; it is unmistakable.


A frightened white-and-purple rat is sprinting away, and I slink back into the shadows, knowing I was not the one who disturbed it. A burst of air comes from above, battering my ears, fluffing up what is left of my fur, which is not much. Huge talons suddenly open from above me and I shrink back further, trying to avoid the grasping things, while looking up in the sky in awe and envy of the magnificent bird, beautiful feathers covering everything but the talons I have just dodged and a sharp, curved beak, good for cutting things.


A shriek tells me what I need to know, and the Pidgeot flaps his wings once more, creating another gust of wind like the one that startled me earlier. The bird does not come back up; he is now enjoying what should have been my catch, probably the only thing I would have caught that day.


I wince as the large pink scar that creates a valley in my dark gray fur prickles up again. It has been long since I received it; I do not even remember what battle I got it from. Probably against another one like me, another rouge.


Abruptly, I scented something that would not be good for me, nor anything else that lived here, in this wretched place that the two-legged ones called a forest. It is spiraling through the air now, burning the tops of the different kinds of trees as it dances, crimson and gold blending.


I am not aware that I have been standing still, but now the wind is urging the flames on, daring it to burn whatever it comes across. So I run, seeing as there is nothing else to do. Rushing sounds all around me, cries as others were consumed by the blaze, yet I did not notice. Ears pricked, eyes narrowed, scenery flying by; you’ve never had a thrill until you’re running away with all the strength, speed, and stamina you can muster away from a raging heat known as fire.


Barely aware of anything except running, sprinting, leaping on top of rocks in a scramble to get way, the Pidgeot’s shriek pierces my trance, and for a split second I look up, only to have burned, charred feathers fall to me feet. Too bad forest fires are common here.


There it is! At last I spot the stream, rushing to keep up with the few others who had made it, splashing into the cool, refreshing water that soaks into my skin and fur, returning my senses to me. I command my paws to keep churning the liquid, and only when I am on the other side and a safe distance away do I look up.


Dark clouds are gathering; even a half blind kit could tell rain was on its way. The clouds, with a sudden swiftness, burst as if one of the high flying ones had punctured them with a talon, or grazed their side a sharp wing. The ground is turning dark now with the water, dripping onto my smoke-stained fur.


I shake my head to clear my thoughts; I must find shelter. Rain is pouring now, and the winds have changed course, rattling the tree branches to create a noise that would scare some younger ones. Leaves began to rustle, some fall to the wet ground, now half mud, the others creating a melody that seemed to echo the branches rattling.


A small Rattata is looking downtrodden as it passes me, and even though I know the pain of breaking up a family, I do what my instincts tell me to. So I position myself and pounce. It is quick; the neck bite is sudden as I cut the jugular, and lay my prize down. Crimson liquid is now mixing with the once pure rain as I enjoy my meal, taking large, starved bites.


Burying the bones of my prey to show respect, I continue on, my belly still not full but at least not empty. A small hole is nearby; I drag my paws to it, them being incredibly stubborn. Mud now stains them as I am curled up in the back of the tiny cave, trying to ignore the rain that still hits my tail. The pounding of the rain outside is like drums, and, with my back against the soft, but hard-packed brown soil, I eventually let the darkness known as sleep take my under its wing.


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When I awaken, it is not to a happy site.


A lean Absol is glaring at me, numerous scars streaking his snowy fur, and bloody eyes hungrily staring at me.


All I do is simply gulp as I stare into the other feline’s eyes. My pulse quickens, blood once again rushing through my veins, but not with the thrill of the hunt this time. But my claws unsheathe and I bare my fangs, letting him know that I will not go down without a fight.


“Get out,” He hisses, and I obey, scampering up the hole that I had come into the den from, knocking some dirt loose with my hind legs while climbing. As soon as I’m out, I run. No hesitation, not a glance back to the den. It’s important to know when to quit, when you’re outmatched. You’re a fool if you don’t know how. And that will get you killed.


I just sprint in the direction of the blood red sunrise, returning to the other side of the forest, where smoke still curls from some trees, and the scents of fear and death are all around. I just keep running by, ignoring the smoking pelt of a Jolteon who didn’t make it out in time. I just keep on going, staying true to my wanderer path.

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Yes, I know it stinks. But it's the best I could come up with at 4:00 in the morning. So, please drop a review. I'd like to see how you feel about it. By the way, it isn't a one-shot.

Tale
27th July 2006, 12:54 PM
BLOODY SEREBII FROZE UP AS I WAS POSTING THE REVIEW. That tears it, I'm copying and pasting everything I'm about to post before I post it.

ANYWAY, the story.

Well, despite the fact that this was all written with obvious skill, and it was a very entertaining read, the thing that got me the most was the flow of the chapter. I mean, the events that occured throughout the chapter were pretty random and pretty jittery.

For example, one minute we're watching the birth of an Eevee. Then next, this Eevee (was it an Eevee, or had he evolved?) is having his meal stolen by a Pigeot. Then theres a fire, then its being put out, then we're in an Absol's lair. It was very hard to keep up, and quite hard to take in the events that were taking place. I think if you improved the flow a bit, this would prove to be a very good story.

BUT the bits that flowed and told the story were pretty entertaining to read. I mean, I wouldnít be reviewing if I didnít enjoy it, after all.

The description was especially entertaining, such as the Pigeotís description, the description of the fire, it was all written with great skill.

So yeah, the main problem was the flow. I couldnít really understand much of what was going on. Perhaps a little more intricate enlightenment on the situations could help the story along a bit.

Good job anyway, Iíll probably review the next chapter a little more intricately if I decide to do so. But at least this is a reply, eh? =P.

Good luck