[ Post a Response | Prayer ]
Posted by Felix on 2/28/2007, 5:19 pm He was dying. The old cat-faced griffin would not let that happen in the den he had been sheltering in with Shadow's Rage, so instead had left, and his pale-white scaled paws had led him here. The wind ruffled his ebony plumage and he tightened his wings to his back as he made his toward the pathetic shelter from the breeze provided by the trunk of a tree, one old enough that it had probably seen generations come and go. Every muscle in the aged griffin's body was sore, every bone aching, as he finally settled to the ground by the tree. He lay his head upon the earth, slitted olive eyes half-opened, and curling his down-covered tail about his body, waited for inevitable he knew was to come.
24.150.179.140
For the first time in his life, he had found it, and for an all too short length of time it had chased the cold from his body. But that chill had once more returned, and he knew, if only solely by instinct, that this time it would not be denied.
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