Onida
His story....
Onida has lived a long, fulfilling life, so it's very difficult to know where to begin. We could begin like David Copperfield, "I was born.... I grew up" or we can start when he got his name, yes, I believe that would be a good place to start...
He was young, and just sent out on his own, when he came across a family unit of odd, hairless two-legged creatures. Because of his white coat he was hidden among the cold, white snow. The forest was starting to become less dense, less trees to shield him, but he managed to hid among the few bushes. While crouching, looking as hard and frozen as the marble which it looked like he was carved from, a few younger, or at least smaller, two-legs came blundering near him. He became slightly spooked, had they seen him, he was uneasy near these creatures. Could they smell the faint hint of fear flowing through the breeze? the light breeze was flowing towards them, it was possible to him.... They came nearer and nearer, on large prey animals, with flowing manes and tails, they were approaching fast. Closer and Closer. Each step, each stride... Thud, Thud-thud, thud, thud-thud.... Almost matching his heart, increasing speed as they came nearer, just like his heart. His nostrils flared, eyes widened and his big tail twitched. The steeds came too close, almost trampling his lowered form. He jumped back in an instant, his body coiled and front end raised, his fur on end, he let out a growl and threw himself onto one of the animals necks. The prey-animal fell, both the two-leg and it made a loud shriek and Onida silenced the larger, furrier one. Blood seeped from the puncture holes on the beast's throat, the three other riders fled, leaving their companion to fend for itself. The rider lay in the snow, pushing itself away from Onida, he pounced. Once again trying to kill the sound, trying to find food, and defend himself, he was taken by surprise and the two-leg blocked his attack with a long, wooden stick with a sharp rock strapped at the end. He was pushed back and fell on his side, only to be on his feet again, ready for a fight. He lowered his head and opened his mouth, his long tongue licked some of the blood off his muzzle, it smeared slightly, saliva dripping from his teeth, pupil-less eyes glaring intently. He let out a growl, the two-leg matched it, this particular one was bigger than the rest, and adorned with feathers and teeth, he was of high rank or respect. Onida didn't care, especially when he flew towards him and pinned him to the ground, knocking the stick out of his hands, and away into the snow. His sharp talons grabbed the boy's flesh and tore into it, blood staining the snow as the two rivals writhed in a fight for survival, locked together. The young two-leg was loosing strength by the time Onida could bite into his flesh, he opened his jaws, that awful liquid dripped onto the young one's face, and just as he was about to close around his throat, his body was thrown off to the side, landing in the snow, sliding slightly, and rolling onto his back. His head smacked something hard, and he became dazed, and shook his large head as he stood. His eyes looked around for what tossed him away from his prey, and his gaze fell on a group of large two-legs, adults, he could tell the difference. He started to circle again, the beasts looked scared, all but one. An older one, who stared back into his eyes, with the same understanding hatred, a snarl escaped from Onida's curled lips and he bolted to strike again. Some of the men ran back, four stood their ground, but it was the obvious leader and Onida who were tied together in battle. Onida would bite down and the leader would throw him off and strike while he was getting up. Soon, blood loss got the better of the leader. Onida had torn his chest in a similar fashion to the leader's son, they smelt similar, spices and smoke, but musky, and stood in front of him. Onida lowered his head and growled, the leader fell to his knees and then forward. Onida raised his head and grunted in triumph, but there were cries of terror and fear, sadness, that came from the tribe. Onida turned and left, bloodied and bearing a slight limp, off in the direction of the forest. From that day onward he was named "Onida", because the leader's son lived through his wounds, and wouldn't rest until his father was avenged. Three generations passed, and Onida was then legend, all but the decendant of the old leader. They still hunted him. And until one wears his hide, they won't stop.
