- username: reyligion
Link to thread: Augures
name: Eir
do you only own your founder?: yes
prompt:
He'd made a grave mistake.
Before he could heave himself up to safety, the dog bit him. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as fresh blood trickled down his elbow. Clenching his teeth, he turned to his assailant, claws moving in a frenzy. The dog, however, was too distracted by the commotion to hold onto him anyway. It dropped him on the searing concrete of a hot summer day, and he grunted in agony. Not wasting a second despite the pounding in his ears and the bleeding shoulder, he rose to his feet and ran up the tree onto a branch that led him to the roof.
Tears streamed down his face as he realized what he had done. He heard the sound of distant howling, muffled by his own ragged breathing. He tried to ignore the gash on his shoulder as he walked away from the scene, wondering if he had done this before. It felt so familiar to him... As he crossed the ceramic roof, tile after tile, he filled his head with thoughts and questions - only to miss a step and plummet into the void below.
---
Eir woke up with a start, fur on end, claws sinking deep into his nest of dried twigs and grass.
He drew in a deep breath as his eyes adjusted to the light; it was midday, and he'd overslept. He gingerly placed a paw on his scarred shoulder; the faded wound did not bleed. It was just the same as ever. Just the same as ever, he repeated in his head, assuring himself that things were alright. Shaking his head, he got up and stretched. He couldn't dwell on his nightmares; there was work for him to do. The herb alcove was running low on stocks; they had an abundance of moss but lacked poppy seeds and yarrow. It was time for a bit of scouting.
Breathing in the ocean air always helped him calm down. It was a welcome change from the dirt and grime he grew up living with. As he strolled out of the cave and over to the nearby woods, he thought about the muck that used to stuff itself between his toes and the famished mice he once had to feed on. He thought about the run-down alleyways, the broken streetlights, and the age-old dispute between the two bands of rogues. He thought about the dusty air that used to fill his lungs, and how he would wake up at night in coughing fits because of it.
He used to desire power. In fact, he'd managed to get it. He used to govern as the second in command of his own fleet, answering only to his leader. In a world dominated by the conflict between the two groups, hierarchy meant everything for him. The position he held was both coveted and vulnerable; it was the next step to power, but he was incredibly disposable. A bitter laugh rattled deep within Eir's chest when he thought about the fool he had been. How lawless his old life was! As deputy, his leader could tell him to do anything, and he'd do it; else he'd be branded a traitor and killed. He used to just sit there, patiently waiting for the day his leader toppled to the ground so that he could take up the mantle.
That day never came. Instead, he did all the dirty work. He led patrols, planned ambushes, raided dens, everything. But nothing could have prepared him for the day the dogs were let loose.
His leader's plan was simple enough. The humans didn't bother to get a padlock for the rusty gate that blocked off the old pound near the enemy's den. All he needed to do was wriggle the latch open, and the dogs would pour out into the open. He didn't mean to slip and fall, much less have his shoulder be torn apart by the vicious animals he'd set free.
Unlike his dream self, though, he had actually managed to regroup with his leader and the rest of the gang - only to be told that he was now dead weight left to fend for himself. He winced, remembering the way his heart plummeted when he heard those words. Only then did he realize how little he meant in the grand scheme of things.
From that point on, he walked alone. He had to figure out how to heal himself. He went out of the old territory, leaving behind the dirt and grime in favor of fresh air and new faces. Eventually... it led to Soseki. The cat who helped him fully let go of his past and those violent ways of thinking.
When he snapped out of his trip down the memory lane, Eir found himself out on the grassy plateau, yarrow leaves between his toes. He didn't realize so much time had passed. A small sigh of relief escaped him as he took in the oceanside view. His old life was in the past, even though his scars accompanied him today. The mark on his shoulder was a mark of his bravery, if not stark foolishness.
At least, he thought to himself, he knew that he was well cared for.
He just hoped he could provide care for them too.
