Post by AFireInTheSnow on Jan 27, 2011 14:20:21 GMT -5
Bloodlines;
Chapter Five;
Run
-------------------
Midday.
No sensible Werecat would be awake past sunrise, as the nocturnal creatures slumbered during the daylight hours.
The little girl creeping through the undergrowth wasn't considered sensible anymore by her pack. She was considered crazy.
It was three months after the flaming fiasco, and Sira was still being taunted, avoided and hurt by her packmates. She wasn't taking any more of it. She had left her parents a note before grabbing her sword and leaving the den and camp. The note only said she couldn't put up with it any more, and it was very vague. She knew her parents would understand, and she hoped they wouldn't look for her. She could hunt and defend herself well, only due to her father, and she could find her way through life just fine.
Dazen had been outraged when he found out his daughter was getting beaten by the other kits, Cairo's friends. He had yelled and roared and scared the living daylight out of every young member of the pack. After that he had immediately started teaching his daughter self defense and the use of a blade. He gave her a few daggers she could wear, too.
She, like the other Werecats, wore her fur most of the time, but she also wore actual clothing over it. Adults could choose to go without, and it wasn't that the clothing was to protect the innocence of the kits. Every kit knew what a sheathed male penis looked like from a young age. They were educated about sex and such. Kits had to wear clothing because at the age they could get their first heat, the females had very little control and the little males could very easily get erections from the scent of the females in estrus. Their bodies were mature enough to mate, and in some cases their minds were, too, but they were not ready for such things in the truest sense.
The adults were monitoring them carefully. None of the kits could mate until they were at the age that humans considered acceptable. This seemed to be fifteen or sixteen, though many humans that the adults sometimes ran across had lost their virginity at a younger age.
None of the kits had talked to humans. They had watched humans from bushes while their parents mingled with campers in the forest. It had confused Sira the first time she had watched, wondering why the humans had no fur. Her father and mother explained to her later that humans weren't like Werecats, Lycans or the other Weres of the world. They had no alternate form and no protective fur. They weren't as strong or as fast as Weres, but they were more abundant. Some humans even knew about the supernaturals of the world; apparently there had been a war a few thousand years ago between humans and Vampyrs.
Vampyrs had fascinated Sira when she first heard of them. Blood-drinkers, stalkers in the shadows of the night. Almost invincible, faster and stronger than any Weres, extremely difficult to kill. It gave her a new respect for the monster Hunters her father had warned her about. If they were able to kill Vampyrs, they must have been extremely powerful humans. And a cub Were like her didn't stand a ghost of a chance against a trained Hunter if she found herself face to face with one.
Sira blinked. She had stopped walking to think about that, and growled. She was wasting daylight, and had to get as far away from the camp as she could before anyone woke up.
She growled and phased. Her clothes melted into her skin; the advantage to being a Were instead of a shapeshifter. Weres shifted their clothes, while shapeshifters were limited to their bodies, or any permanently affixed jewelry. There was a good reason that few shifters liked piercings. Some of the pack members had piercings... some of which were in the oddest and weirdest places ever. With what sex education she had, Sira was fairly positive that sharp, pointed objects should not have gone through a male's penis. She shuddered slightly as her bones popped and groaned from the phase, a low whine edging past sharp teeth. She wouldn't use a form that she could be recognized for. She would be a wild cat native to the forest she lived in, so that none of her pack members would see her and drag her back home if they found her that night.
As she padded on dark paws she struggled to stay awake. She hadn't slept well for the few hours she had been given the chance, and in broad daylight the little Were was unused to being awake. Still she plodded onwards to unknown territories to make a life where she wouldn't be feared for what she was.
She hoped.
Chapter Five;
Run
-------------------
Midday.
No sensible Werecat would be awake past sunrise, as the nocturnal creatures slumbered during the daylight hours.
The little girl creeping through the undergrowth wasn't considered sensible anymore by her pack. She was considered crazy.
It was three months after the flaming fiasco, and Sira was still being taunted, avoided and hurt by her packmates. She wasn't taking any more of it. She had left her parents a note before grabbing her sword and leaving the den and camp. The note only said she couldn't put up with it any more, and it was very vague. She knew her parents would understand, and she hoped they wouldn't look for her. She could hunt and defend herself well, only due to her father, and she could find her way through life just fine.
Dazen had been outraged when he found out his daughter was getting beaten by the other kits, Cairo's friends. He had yelled and roared and scared the living daylight out of every young member of the pack. After that he had immediately started teaching his daughter self defense and the use of a blade. He gave her a few daggers she could wear, too.
She, like the other Werecats, wore her fur most of the time, but she also wore actual clothing over it. Adults could choose to go without, and it wasn't that the clothing was to protect the innocence of the kits. Every kit knew what a sheathed male penis looked like from a young age. They were educated about sex and such. Kits had to wear clothing because at the age they could get their first heat, the females had very little control and the little males could very easily get erections from the scent of the females in estrus. Their bodies were mature enough to mate, and in some cases their minds were, too, but they were not ready for such things in the truest sense.
The adults were monitoring them carefully. None of the kits could mate until they were at the age that humans considered acceptable. This seemed to be fifteen or sixteen, though many humans that the adults sometimes ran across had lost their virginity at a younger age.
None of the kits had talked to humans. They had watched humans from bushes while their parents mingled with campers in the forest. It had confused Sira the first time she had watched, wondering why the humans had no fur. Her father and mother explained to her later that humans weren't like Werecats, Lycans or the other Weres of the world. They had no alternate form and no protective fur. They weren't as strong or as fast as Weres, but they were more abundant. Some humans even knew about the supernaturals of the world; apparently there had been a war a few thousand years ago between humans and Vampyrs.
Vampyrs had fascinated Sira when she first heard of them. Blood-drinkers, stalkers in the shadows of the night. Almost invincible, faster and stronger than any Weres, extremely difficult to kill. It gave her a new respect for the monster Hunters her father had warned her about. If they were able to kill Vampyrs, they must have been extremely powerful humans. And a cub Were like her didn't stand a ghost of a chance against a trained Hunter if she found herself face to face with one.
Sira blinked. She had stopped walking to think about that, and growled. She was wasting daylight, and had to get as far away from the camp as she could before anyone woke up.
She growled and phased. Her clothes melted into her skin; the advantage to being a Were instead of a shapeshifter. Weres shifted their clothes, while shapeshifters were limited to their bodies, or any permanently affixed jewelry. There was a good reason that few shifters liked piercings. Some of the pack members had piercings... some of which were in the oddest and weirdest places ever. With what sex education she had, Sira was fairly positive that sharp, pointed objects should not have gone through a male's penis. She shuddered slightly as her bones popped and groaned from the phase, a low whine edging past sharp teeth. She wouldn't use a form that she could be recognized for. She would be a wild cat native to the forest she lived in, so that none of her pack members would see her and drag her back home if they found her that night.
As she padded on dark paws she struggled to stay awake. She hadn't slept well for the few hours she had been given the chance, and in broad daylight the little Were was unused to being awake. Still she plodded onwards to unknown territories to make a life where she wouldn't be feared for what she was.
She hoped.