A sound in the night..., Open

[Draco]

The night was with out a sound but a little sound of paws walking in the dark forest, it wasn't as hot as day can be...but it was still hot...even at night. The white paws are the paws of a dark brown wolf, with large black wings. His pale mooneyes was the same color as the moon in the night sky, he really can't sleep at night because of parts of his long bad history. His paws moved slowly and the sound of nothing but him and he wants this weird place to stay that way. The dead trees really fit him...the color fits him and all...this is a place for him, maybe not other wolves but him for sure. His eyes are so fit to the night; he would see anything moving with his moon color eyes. He is always quit...at night and things, the world is just a dark place...his father and mother died and he just is crazy sometimes and is needing someone to talk to that he would not kill, that would be most unlikely.

"Mother!" said Draco, his mother lie there with a big bite in her neck. The wind blew fast and Draco set his eyes on another wolf looking at him with tears. "Why...Why are you sad?" said Draco. The wolf just walked away, form him. Draco looked back at his mother, the sent of other wolves, After one hour his father came looking for him. "Draco!" said his father. "Ma...mother is...is...dead!" said Draco. "She was sick,” said his father. "Ba...but...an... Another wo...wolf was ha...here" said Draco.

His history was bad and all...always flesh backs, he always has his history in his head, it was a life with pain and evil, his father doesn't even sound like he cares about his mother. "Mother" he said in the forest, thinking about her. He walked up to a tree and hit his head on the tree ten times. A little tear went form one of his pale gray eyes; he still has his head on the tree. An owl was on a tree, Draco looked at it and seen his father, parts of his history went in his head. He ran up to the owl and got it in his teeth, he slammed it on a dead tree, twenty times. "Die!" he said and He ripped it apart.

"Sister!" Draco said, he ran up to his half asleep sister. "What?" his sister said and looked up to him covered with tears. " Ma...mother is dead!" he said lowly. "Wa...what?" his sister said with fear in her voice. "Ca…come with me!" Draco said lowly.

Oh yes, he had one sister and only one sister...before that when food was hard to find...ah...his other sisters died. "sis" Draco said lowly. Draco dug his talons into the ground. He slowly fell down on his side and just lie there.

[Purge]

--EDITED--

Paws threw themselves lightly onto the ground. Eyes burned out at nothing. The world was not a pleasant place, and this wolf was not pleasant either. He was cold to say the least. He was just supposed to get souls. He loved it. Loved the very idea of it. He was demented and wrong. The very existence of him was a danger, yet on he lived. Ready to fight anything that got in his way and wanting to kill anything that got in his way. Of course, he had no idea where he was headed. Just merely looking for wolves. Loners preferably, but whatever. As long as there were wolves he was fine. Maybe he would meet up with another snatcher, he would prefer something he could steal from.

There was nothing but dead trees. Was he supposed to steal the soul from some bark? Meandering through the border line of dead trees he maneuvered with no special destination in mind, just the thought of getting away from the urge to fight and steal. The urge that would someday get him killed. There was no way in hell he could live. There was no way in hell he would want to keep living. No the world was too cruel and he had nothing to live for but the urge.

His paws started to pick up speed, the rhythm becoming more steady and powerful. Each lift up came crashing down after a longer stride. Finally he broke into a run, the wind he created rushing through his fur, forcing him back, but nothing could stop him. Pivoting left right left right left right. Avoiding trees, hearing the song of the wind as it passed his ears and the bickering of the dirt as it was flung through the air brutally. No matter where he turned there were more god forsaken trees. The souls of the dead. Each tree representing the life a wolf had lost while wandering in the corpses of their friends and families. Of course, they saw them as dead trees.

Dead dead dead. No life to live.

Stopping suddenly had been a bad idea. His front paws let sand fly wildly into his open eyes while skidding to a stop in the soil. His back legs drew closer until he was all but sitting. They took longer to stop and shot out from under him, between his two front legs. Getting up from his awkward position he glanced around, wondering if any one saw that. Shrugging it off he sat down with a resounding plop and took a good look around him. Dead souls to the left. Dead souls to the right. Dead souls forward and back.

The urge to steal souls had retreated somewhat and now he could at least pad along without the momentum of wanting to, well you know . Of course, as long as he was thinking about it, it would always return. Never good. Never sorrowful. His life in a tuna can.

Why did the bird sing? When it knew it's life would end. Why did the bird sing? When it knew there was nothing left? It sang because it could, because it knew that no matter what happened it could always bring joy to others and in doing so bring that joyfulness to itself. Why couldn't wolves be liked that? No. instead they fought when they had nothing left, or they just gave up. Yes. They just gave up, lay down and die little one, for there may be hope but you have yet to see the light so just lay down and die, it makes it so much easier than to keep fighting for what you know to be yours. Just lay your head upon your paws, let your eye lids slide shut on tired blood shot eyes and think of what could have been yours but never will be. Now feel your brain shut down. Your mind draw blanks and your heart take it's finally breath before the lungs collapse.

No. How could you do that? You have your whole life ahead of you. There is always hope whether or not you realize it. Never give up when something could be yours. Never give up and keep on fighting. Fight for your rights. Yes, fight fight fight. How he loved to fight. So as his paws strung out in a line under him. He heard the chirp of the bird and all he could think of was food. Prey. To hunt and feel the blood run down your throat. Flesh. Flesh to hunger upon.

There was another wolf ahead. A desolute male. He sighed, wondering what his problem was. "You look rather pathetic." He was a snatcher if he was not mistaken. Though he could have been, in which case the male in front of Cura would soon be soulless.