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Post by . shadow*! on Nov 3, 2010 20:13:44 GMT -6
& thistlestorm break the spell of the typical I am undefeatable, Thistlestorm thought to himself. I am walking on top of the world. I have escaped death with little more than a few scratches. Over and over, he repeated the little cheerleads to himself. It was the only thing that kept his paws walking sure over the mountains that had nearly pitched him to StarClan. If he had allowed himself to think of anything else, he was sure that the crushing fear he had felt only moments ago would resurface and consume him. As if it hadn't been agonizing enough the first time around.
Thistlestorm wasn't sure what made him turn around. Perhaps because Larksong's pawsteps weren't the light, steady padding that he was accustomed to; no, the deputy felt and heard her pawsteps several foxlengths behind him, but the gait was irregular, starting and stopping every few moments. After a while, the pawsteps had stopped all together. Frowning to himself, Thistlestorm glanced back to see what was keeping the she-warrior. His eyes narrowed slightly to see her so far behind. Surely, though her legs might have been short, she could at least keep up? It wasn't as though he were sprinting down the mountain. His own legs were burning with the effort, still weak from their perilous drop down the slope. Groaning and grimacing openly, Thistlestorm backtracked several paces to see what was going on.
"Hey!"
[/color] he shouted, and paused for a heartbeat as he listened to his voice echo off the faces of the rocks. The wind was less fierce and life-threatening now that they were lower, and Thistlestorm didn't doubt that Larksong could hear him. "Are you planning on getting back to camp before we die of old age,"[/color] he continued sardonically, "or should I come back for your body?"[/color] It felt good, to be able to ridicule death just after escaping it. Of course, it would be delightful irony if the ground decided to give out beneath his paws a second time before they actually reached camp. Thinking this, Thistlestorm nervously gripped the gritty ground with his unsheathed claws, sending a quick prayer to StarClan that he would make it back to FlameClan camp in one piece. Swallowing back the sudden nervousness, Thistlestorm tried to mentally quash the feeling that the pads of his paws were suddenly a lot more slippery than they had been a moment before. Amazing, wasn't it, how fast the flash of terror had returned, even after he thought he had gotten over it? The deputy cleared his throat, hoping it sounded more authoritative than queasy. "Come on, Larksong. I thought you were complaining about other cats underestimating you about your size? I thought after that, you'd be more eager to prove yourself."oh oh see:[/color] wouldn't it be ridiculous irony if he developed a deathly fear of heights? hm...[/blockquote]
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Post by [ vi . ] on Nov 3, 2010 20:52:21 GMT -6
☁ ☁ ☁ Larksong Just as the soreness in Larkson's paws began to numb down a bit, and the throbbing in her left limb became so dull she barely noticed it anymore, a sharp yowl in the wind caused herself to jump half a fox-length in the air. "Hey!" Her heart seemed to skip a beat and she was immediately on her paws, visibly flinching back in pain when she accidentally put weight on her broken leg. Fury boiled inside her; just when she had calmed down and was ready to go again, Thistlestorm just had to come by and ruin it! "Are you planning on getting back to camp before we die of old age, or should I come back for your body?" Larksong's pelt bristled angrily as she glared at the sneering deputy. She couldn't stand his arrogance, how he seemed to look down on everybody and treat them as if they were inferior to him! The she-warrior contemplated ignoring his snide remarks and going her own way, but decided against it.
"I'd rather you not, thank you very much." Larksong growled quietly as she brushed past him, trying very hard to cover up her limp. She didn't want him to see how she had injured herself, and the last thing on her list of things to do was allow a tom to help her again. I can take care of myself, as hard as it is to believe, she thought darkly in her brain, fantasizing about all of the gruesome things she could do to the tom as revenge in the future. "Come on, Larksong. I thought you were complaining about other cats underestimating you about your size? I thought after that, you'd be more eager to prove yourself."
He had gone too far. Larksong whipped around, her green eyes flashing with fury as she bared her teeth at the large tom. "This has nothing to do with my size, you mouse-brain! Just because you're so... large, doesn't mean you're better than everybody else!
[/color] Why does it seem that everyone assumes my size is the reason for all of my troubles?! If only I could show them! She stormed forward, forcing herself to ignore the pain that now began to flare and only get bigger and bigger with each step she took. With each ledge, she carelessly leaped down, landing clumsily on three paws and immediately continuing, her steps an awkward gait no matter how hard she tried to make them seem natural. Her heart sank when she quickly glanced around and saw that Thistlestorm could easily trot at this pace. "Go ahead and go back to camp. I don't need your help,"[/color] she spat at him, her voice dripping with poison at the burning hatred that was bubbling inside of her. out of cookies ![/color] that would be very contradictory of his outward appearance and personality. :3 [/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by . shadow*! on Nov 4, 2010 16:36:26 GMT -6
& thistlestorm break the spell of the typicalAll his life, particularly after he had achieved deputyship, Thistlestorm had never really expected rebuttal at his crude jokes, his ridiculing sarcasm. Only today, his encounter with such a sharp-tongued she-cat, was the first time he could remember being struck back at with such force. "I'd rather you not, thank you very much." He smirked at her back, trying to keep his bravado, but at the same time, he was working to keep indignance out of his expression. "Fine," [/color] he growled snidely, immediately following after her, careful to keep a tail's distance between the two of them. "Go ahead and go back to camp. I don't need your help," His retort bubbled violently to his mouth, but was extinguished as Larksong's next venom-filled response was flicked at his face. "This has nothing to do with my size, you mouse-brain! Just because you're so... large , doesn't mean you're better than everybody else!"It wasn't that his words were the kind, concerned type in the first place -- did he expect her to take that sitting down, after what he had already seen of her temperament? Impossible. Nonetheless, her words stabbed sharply at him, a catalyst for his anger. Rage flooded throughout the vessels of his body, replacing the stone-cold terror within seconds. The she-warrior had turned her back on him, but the flash of uncanny loathing in her emerald-green eyes was imprinted on his mind, and he rose to the challenge. "Oh yeah?"[/color] he snapped back, his frustration growing, for his enraged appearance was lost on Larksong's obvious body language that told him she was probably way too angry to pay attention to what he was saying. Shaking with rage, Thistlestorm stomped forward until he matched her pace. He stepped in front of the she-warrior, feeling a sharp twinge of satisfaction that his size helped to bar the way. He shoved his face so close to hers that his muzzle brushed the latter's, bluntly putting himself in her personal space. "Listen here, you mouse-brained she-cat![/color] he snarled in his iciest tone, "I don't care what you think. I'm the deputy. I can do whatever I want. I don't need anyone telling me what to do, much less you."[/color] He was playing his deputy status to the hilt, going as far as factoring out Willowstar in the equation. Thistlestorm's cerulean eyes were glowing with uncontrollable rage; he was practically foaming at the mouth. His self-control broke -- he snarled, "I don't even understand why I saved your life at all!"[/color] and lunged, claws extended, reaching for the warrior's throat. oh oh see :[/color] it would, wouldn't it? maybe i'll make it a little secret of his. owo[/blockquote]
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Post by [ vi . ] on Nov 4, 2010 18:32:10 GMT -6
☁ ☁ ☁ Larksong As Larksong stormed off, she could feel Thistlestorm's gaze piercing into her back. It took quite some effort for her not to flinch. She held her head high and simply ignored it, along with the now nearly unbearable pain that shot through her broken limb every time she put even a little pressure on it. I can't keep walking like this. I'll have to stop eventually. But how? The she-cat quickly calculated how much farther away they were from camp; they were nearly at the base of the mountain, and it would take a few minutes to travel from there to the camp entrance... at a fairly quick pace, which was what Larksong was used to traveling at. She frowned to herself as she realized just how slow she was going compared to the rate she would be walking at right now if she were healthy. Fox dung! Why do I always get myself into these situations?!
Just as Larksong thought Thistlestorm would finally leave her alone, she heard a voice from behind snap, "Oh yeah?" Larksong hesitated for just the smallest fraction of a heartbeat before continuing forward as if she hadn't heard him, the only thing keeping her fear at bay the determination she had trained and built over the moons. Suddenly, the deputy was standing in front of her, his stature towering almost twice as tall as her. She felt herself shrink back, but her face betrayed her fear - she returned his icy gaze with one of her own, her fierce green eyes clashing with his pale, pale blue ones. "Listen here, you mouse-brained she-cat!" Her lips curled in a snarl at this insult, yet she couldn't help but notice the dangerous edge in Thistlestorm's voice. "I don't care what you think. I'm the deputy. I can do whatever I want. I don't need anyone telling me what to do, much less you. I don't even understand why I saved your life at all!"
In the next instant, Thistlestorm was leaping towards her, his claws unsheathed and his teeth bared. Larksong instantly could tell where he was aiming at, and yowled at the top of her lungs by instinct before flinging herself out of the way, just in time. Because of her current crippled state, though, instead of making a graceful landing like she usually would've, she fell clumsily to the ground with an unattractive thud. She lay there, paralyzed, for a few heartbeats before finding her senses and scrambling to her paws and turning to face Thistlestorm, the fearlessness previously in her eyes now replaced with horror. Had he just tried to attack me?! she thought, almost unable to believe it herself. He... he broke the warrior code! H-How? Larksong didn't allow herself to ponder over this for too long, though. Her life was at risk, but this time the danger was Thistlestorm!
Larksong knew that she had no chance against Thistlestorm because of her limb, so instead of fighting back, she leaped with her hind legs farther than she'd ever thought possible away from the tom. When she landed rather inelegantly, she hobbled forward as fast as she could, not minding anymore about the ever-growing, blood-curdling pain shooting through her limb. The fear in her mind was so big that the only thought that could get past the boundaries of her brain was run. She didn't have a clue what she would do if Thistlestorm caught up to her and pinned her down, or flung her around, or killed her on the spot, or whatever his violent ways would tell him to do.
out of cookies !
[/color] muy bien. xD [/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by . shadow*! on Nov 5, 2010 21:22:55 GMT -6
& thistlestorm break the spell of the typicalIt was a funny thing, the way warriors tended to scorn the loafing laziness of kittypets, yet they frowned distastefully at the uncontained ferity of rogues, priding in their careful balance between civility and wildness. Now, though, the rigid, unquestionable rules of the warrior lifestyle had been disregarded -- no, shattered in a billion pieces as Thistlestorm sprang at a Clanmate. Beyond reasoning, the deputy was toeing the brink of madness as he swiped his massive paws, armed with lethal claws, at Larksong. Gone was any of the previous consciousness; all that was left was a snarling beast, not unlike a badger or a fox, throwing his weight and batting his paws randomly, his only goal to hit something. And that something was the petite she-cat he had just been accompanying back to FlameClan camp.
A small portion of his mind was still sane, but only just. It was enough to let him remember the fundamental skills he had engraved in his mind, ingrained in his muscles since even before apprenticeship -- attack. His first lunge was unsuccessful; Larksong had darted out of the way before his paws could land a blow, a yowl breaking through his fog of obsessive rage. The tom staggered, unbalanced by his own bulk. In moments, though, he regained his balance, and turned his eyes, aflame with hatred. Suddenly, what was only heartbeats ago a Clanmate was now his prey. This was routine; all he had to do was leap, and the body would be his trophy to bear home.
In the second he was regaining his balance, he caught the glance -- those brilliant lime-green eyes that had been so filled with loathing were now tinted with fear. A new wave of strength washed over him. Fear, that was the best incentive. The weakness of others, but his own strength if he could control it. The moment lasted only that: a moment. Larksong's eyes disappeared as she leaped away, surprisingly fast, in Thistlestorm's opinion. He roared so loud that his throat felt like tearing and that his ears ached, tensing the muscles in his legs to spring, to nab at this prey like it was any old rabbit. Blood pounded thunderously in his ears, adrenaline coursing through his veins, the tom surged forward.
It was almost too easy. Especially on the FlameClan slopes, he could make it look like an accident. He wouldn't even have to unsheathe his claws. But what was the fun in that? To feel the blood splashing over his paws, taste the tang on his tongue... that was where true victory lay. Consumed with bloodlust, Thistlestorm jumped again, this time aiming for Larksong's quickly retreating back. Only this time, he over-aimed. His eyes widened, and his vicious snarl transformed into one of panic, for his legs legs buckled beneath him, and he slid, just as he had earlier, down the mountain. Just as quickly as it had come, the harsh excitement was replaced by the all-too-familiar feeling of terror, that he would fall to his death. How did the status quo flip so quickly, so cleanly? One moment, he was ready to kill, and now he was plunging to his death, the second time in one day. His limbs flailed, searching for purchase in the rock face, his once-baleful eyes now frantic as he slipped clumsily, unable to regain his balance. A howl burst through his mouth, the first he would ever remember, a plea for help.
oh oh see : meh, i'm running out of brainjuice. D:
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Post by [ vi . ] on Nov 8, 2010 18:57:28 GMT -6
☁ ☁ ☁ Larksong Fear pumped through Larksong like never before as she ran through the forest, nearly completely covering up the pain throbbing through her broken limb. She was surprised she even managed to stand, in the condition she was in. The petite she-cat glanced behind her, only for half a heart-beat, and saw Thistlestorm chasing after her, a wild look in his raging blue eyes that she'd never seen in anybody in her entire life. Her own eyes grew wider and she ran even faster, the forest becoming a blanket of brown blurs racing past her. The roar the tom behind her let out was blood-curdling, and she couldn't help but visibly cringe from its monstrous fury and blood lust.
A loud crackle of twigs and leaves and the sudden cease of heavy footsteps coming from behind told Larksong that Thistlestorm had leaped, and she immediately stopped in her tracks, her size allowing her to skid to an almost immediate halt. She watched with unimaginable fear as she saw the massive tom spring towards her, his claws and teeth extended and his expression outrageous. The she-cat knew that there was nothing she could do but hope that he would not be able to bring his weight down in time to land on her from the shortened distance she had allowed between them, and when she blinked, she couldn't quite register the fact that he was gone, and there was no weight on top of her. Larksong swiveled her head around and saw Thistlestorm instead landing ungracefully quite a bit before her, farther ahead of her even if she'd kept running. He scrabbled at the slick rock as he slid across its surface, but couldn't quite manage to get a grip on the stone, and suddenly that rabid, maniacal look in his icy blue eyes were gone, instead replaced with something that almost looked like pleading fear as he got nearer and nearer to the edge. The first instinct Larksong had was to rush forward and save him, but when she took that first step towards him, she hesitated. It was partly from the fact that she would very likely not be able to succeed in doing so, from her current handicap and the weight difference between the two, but it was also because she couldn't help be remember that look he'd had in his eyes while he was chasing her. Just imagining it sent chills down her spine, and she felt her paws freeze in midair.
But I have a duty to my Clan that I cannot let down. Thistlestorm may have tried to kill me, but that doesn't mean I can't do anything to prevent such a pitiful death. As Larksong yowled in determination and bewilderment as she sprang towards the deputy. Maybe this will teach him a lesson. Maybe he'll finally just leave me alone. She knew that it would be impossible to try to save him the practical way - sinking her teeth into his pelt and using her own weight and claws to stop his movement. So as the she-warrior pelted forward, she glanced around fretfully, praying to StarClan there was something she could use to stop Thistlestorm. Suddenly, she spotted a low-hanging, yet sturdy looking branch just a fox-length before his path. Using all of the energy she could muster in her hind legs, Larksong sprang for it, her front claws extended and her eyes wild with a mixture of fear and hope.
When her claws sank into its rough bark, she could never have felt more relief in her life. That feeling was short-lived, though, as the weight of Thistlestorm abruptly crashed into her back, causing her to topple head-over-heels towards the edge herself. Her minute size made it fairly easy to stop herself, though, and she found herself sprawled clumsily over the smooth stone, her pink nose mouse-lengths from the edge of the surface. She quickly regained her senses and scrambled to her paws, her gaze flitting frantically towards where the deputy was, his body now devoid of any motion. Larksong could still clearly imagine that look that had been in his eyes moments before, and she felt herself catch her breath, certain they would return any second now. The she-cat's stance immediately became aggressive, and before she knew it, she was darting through the forest as quickly as her broken limb could carry her back to camp.
out of cookies !
[/color] lo siento. :c this is like an endless cycle.. [/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by . shadow*! on Nov 9, 2010 21:51:11 GMT -6
& thistlestorm break the spell of the typicalThistlestorm had never been so terrified in his life. Was it even possible, that his heart was drumming ten times harder, ten times faster, that the urge to cry was ten times stronger that the first time? A hundred times stronger? It had to be. Where he had previously gritted his teeth and held it in, he no longer could staunch the roar, but now, he let go of his inhibitions, his mouth opening in a yowl that somehow sounded so far away to his ears. It wasn't, however, the same yowl it had been only heartbeats before; the ferocity was totally gone, saturated this time with genuine fear. Who could cheat death twice? And this is what he got, for turning on a Clanmate.
The deputy had his claws unsheathed, grinding fruitlessly into the ground as he tried to lock them in a way that he would stop hurtling downward. That held the majority of his attention. What he did catch, though, as he lifted his head up to look at the only cat in vicinity, he felt, strangely, relief. Larksong's single step forward filled him with more satisfaction than that of anything else in his life. After that, though, she paused, and Thistlestorm felt as though he were going to vomit. She was just going to let him slide to his doom? Perhaps what goes around comes around -- he had tried to take her life, and now he was facing the consequence. But he couldn't think of that now. Now, it was all he could do to transform his screech of shock and terror into a strangled word: "Laaaarrksssoooonnng! [/color] Another yowl overlapped his own, and Thistlestorm saw, in awe, that Larksong wasn't, in fact, looking down on him and laughing, or anything similar. No, she was sprinting downward, towards him. It was like deja vu -- only, their roles were switched from the last time. Terror, relief, terror, relief, all in a cycle. Only seconds after he felt a flash of relief, it was drowned in terror; how in StarClan would Larksong be able to stop his descent down the mountain? If anything, both of them would be dragged down... Larksong disappeared from his view; had she run away? Thistlestorm squeezed his eyes tight, hoping the fall would be quick, painless. The next thing he knew, he tumbled unceremoniously into something soft, but it was enough to slow the momentum enough so that he could shove his claws into the ground. Thistlestorm's eyes did not open. He simply lay there, gripping the rock as tight as he could, eyes shut tight. He wasn't sure how long he was there, but after a moment, he managed to slit his eyes open and see what had happened. Larksong was no where in sight. Dazed, the deputy stumbled unsteadily to his feet, his claws still squeezing the mountain face as though he were going to fall off without doing so. He didn't dare look down, sure that the dizzying height would make him lose feeling in his legs. Nonetheless, his composure gone, Thistlestorm promptly slid to a sitting position again and was violently sick. He stayed there for several more moments, waiting for the vertigo to pass, moaning softly from the dull burn in his throat. Thistlestorm stayed motionless much longer than he had the first time around. Fear of falling down again washed strongly through his whole body, and his paws trembled from the very thought. After a while, though, he realized that he would have to move sometime. His belly growled sharply -- another incentive to get up. Gritting his teeth, he struggled back to his paws, paying very careful not to look out into the open space. With each step, he gripped the soil with his claws, not trusting his own footing as he made his way back to camp. With each meticulous pawstep, Thistlestorm knew there was one cat he needed to talk to, one cat whose presence he needed, even if he had just been trying to kill her earlier. The violent anger was totally gone, and though he knew she was long gone, he couldn't help himself; he shouted, "L-larksong! Larksong!"[/color] oh oh see :[/color] yeah, sorry. ^^ i wasn't sure how to make things more interesting. T.T[/blockquote]
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Post by [ vi . ] on Nov 10, 2010 16:03:19 GMT -6
☁ ☁ ☁ Larksong Larksong couldn't take it anymore. She gradually slowed to a stop and collapsed on the ground, her sides heaving as she struggled for breath. Sweat dappled her already soaked pelt and her heart pounded inside of her, practically leaping out of her petite chest. The pain radiating from her broken limb was worse than ever now, and she began to regret putting it through so much stress when it obviously couldn't handle it. I wonder if the medicine cat will be able to do something about it. I wonder if I'll ever be able to walk normally ever again. The she-cat couldn't stand the thought of being a cripple and moving to the elder's den early, and instead squeezed her wide, fretful eyes shut as she waited for her body to relax even the slightest bit. It wasn't an easy feat, considering the number of shocking events she'd just undergone.
Suddenly, Larksong remembered why she'd been running in the first place, and she leaped to her paws, cringing at the bubbles of pain springing from her leg. She checked her surroundings quickly, as if she were paranoid, and continued her way back to camp. This time she walked with an awkward gait, trying to maintain as little pressure and weight on her broken leg as possible, yet making sure to go as quickly as she could. By now she had reached the base of the mountain and was well on her way back to the plateau that FlameClan called camp, but she knew that at this rate, it would be a while before she reached the entrance. She glanced up at the sky, splashed with deep shades of purple and red, the sun casting the last of its golden rays across the horizon. Her heart seemed to sink, but the feeling was short-lived as she scowled in determination and walked just a little faster.
Occasionally she would check behind her, to make sure that there were no footsteps or cat scents coming from behind. Yet Larksong knew it would be a matter of time before Thistlestorm caught up to her. The memory of him chasing her, his eyes burning with blood lust, returned to her vision as if it were happening again at that moment, and she let out a little whimper as she hastened her pace. The sudden change of speed made her lose her balance, though, and before she knew it she was sprawled out on the debris and grass of the forest floor. The petite she-cat let out a pitiful groan of frustration as she tried to regain her step. You're almost there, Larksong. Only a little ways to go, and you'll be safe again. The thought comforted her, even if it was just the slightest bit, and she trekked forward, her limb getting worse and worse with every step.
After a moment, something echoed among the trees, and Larksong froze mid-step. Her ears shot forward and shes trained to hear the quickly fading words, "Larksong!" Her eyes widened as she realized who it was, and she attempted to walk even faster, but her efforts to keep pressure off of her injury prevented her from doing so. After a few heartbeats, she could hear the rustling of footsteps in the distance coming behind her. They grew steadily and quickly, and she knew that in a matter of moments, her spirit would be traveling to StarClan, mourning her own pitiful death as the rest of her Clan would be caught up in the mystery of her disappearance for the rest of their lives. StarClan, help me, please! Just give me a chance to live!
out of cookies !
[/color] i didn't mean that in a bad way. xD [/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by . shadow*! on Nov 16, 2010 21:09:04 GMT -6
& thistlestorm break the spell of the typicalFor a long while, Thistlestorm thought he was lost. The mountains rose up over his head, looking fierce and intimidating, while he had been able to breeze over the cliffs and slopes without a second thought since apprenticeship. The absurdity of it was comical; a tiny bubble of hysterical laughter burst unintentionally from his jaws at how he could possibly be confused as to where he was. The rocks were cold and unfamiliar under his paws, and his claws shook with each pawstep as they sank into the earth. Panic clawed with accumulating strength, squeezing his insides as it had just a moment ago. It was an odd, yet terrifying sensation -- stiff fear of the open space, where one tiny slip of the paw would send him to his death. On the other paw, there was also the fear of the mountains looming over his head, cornering him with no where to run but forward.
His breath getting shallower and shallower, it was evident that Thistlestorm was becoming more and more desperate. Suppose I'm just wandering around in circles? he thought dazedly, barely coherent. Giving up, he slumped to the ground and closed his eyes, trying to fight off the pressing dizziness. In breathing in deeply through his nose, he caught a scent, and his eyes flew open in surprise, bright blue and glowing again. Stumbling drunkenly to his paws again, he inhaled, dropping his mouth open slightly to taste the air more efficiently. There it was -- distinct despite the ever-blowing wind, there was Larksong's scent. Relief washed through his body, and he set his expression determinedly before taking off briskly in the direction of the scent.
There she was, nearly invisible among the sandy tans and grays of the earth, a small spot of life against the endless slopes -- Larksong. Never before had Thistlestorm been so filled with euphoria in seeing another cat. "Larksong!" [/color] he yelled, his throat giving out under the pressure. A dull ache dominated his throat and mouth, making it agony to even speak, but he carried on anyways. "Larksong! Larksong! Wait! Don't go! Just... wait!"[/color] Even to him, he thought it was pretty fruitless. Logic finally set in, and he remembered that he had, earlier that day, turned on her in violent rage. Was she scared? Usually, that would please him; it would mean that she wouldn't rub him the wrong way again. But now, it would mean that she would run away, his only lifeline. Panic was back, and he forgot his over-carefulness with his pawsteps, sprinting towards the warrior with only one mission in mind: not to lose sight of her. Surely, if he was left alone, he would collapse in a hopeless heap, driven mad by the sudden cold unfamiliarity of these mountains. In one more desperate attempt to keep her there, he cried, "Larksong! Just wait a minute! You have to wait!"oh oh see : orly? o:[/blockquote]
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