Theme 1 : The cherry cliff, setting for my story but at midday.. The cherry and grass are fail, but I quite like the sky and Mountains myself 
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Theme 2
Max, in the now
Max sat, staring, with an unblinking gaze, intensely into the setting sun, which was blazing the clear sky in an array of warm colours, turning it rapidly from a light periwinkle blue to a cheekier fuchsia, and then into a meek lavender. He pursed his lips, watching the late, weak, but colourful light bounce off the blue grass and turn it to a strange tone, neither navy, neither purple, a tone that had yet no name, at least, that he knew of, but, nevertheless, matched the scene quite perfectly. He closed his eyes, breathing in the pure, clean air that surrounded the cliff. Only the faint sound of the a soft breeze that rustled the tall trees bothered his ears, and overall, the calm day that overlooked Isket.
The calm day after the storm.
A faint smell of late cherries drifted to his nose, and along with that, the scent of pine-tree resin, humidity with a salty tinge from the waterfall and, worst of all, his sister.
He growled, actually sounding more like a snarl, and winced as if her presence inflicted physical pain on his body. He feigned indifference, but his ears flicked back unintentionally as he heard the clink of her armour as she padded up towards him. Strange. She usually avoided going out with it, she found it too heavy for her liking, too tough.. Whatever. However, Max wasn’t surprised that after the attacks, Foalan was being prudent and bringing her armour alongside her when she exited camp.
He grimaced as she stopped by his side, noticing her calm gaze bear into his pelt, and he flinched when she sat down beside him, trying to brush her pelt comfortingly with his, although the opposite effect was produced on him; nausea, discomfort, hate, and fear invaded his mind, along with the salty, metallic tangy smell that had produced his siblings so much pain that night. Blood. The flashbacks begin.
Max, yesterday
Blood. Darkness. Death. They all hung in the air as Max ran through the forest, the new moon casting a shadow over the already dark night. His armour glinted slightly, picking up the little light that was being cast in the forest. It bore slight scratches from this night’s fight; the Kronadors having invaded a tiny portion of their territory, causing what was thought to be a minor skirmish, and he and his siblings having had to teach them with fangs and claws to stay where they had been all the time.
Except it all went awry. They had outsmarted them for once.
He stopped suddenly, his heart beating strongly in his chest after the run from the battle, Rayo ordering him to go warn the pack what was happening, and he having to oblige, although his rage wanting to lead him elsewhere, and hearing the sudden and desperate howl that came from the far southwest, where the bloodshed was going on.
His brother’s sudden, desperate and last death-howl to the world, and calling him back to the battle.
Dammit Dax, what the heck are you doing! You’re going to make the Kronadors rip all our throats out, our pack’s included! Max cursed under his breath, restraining worse insults to his, in this instant, much hated sibling. Dax had just revealed they had sent out a sentry to warn the rest and bring out more warriors, fresh muscle to add to the fight. They were now probably hunting him down, or at least had sent out a small party to search for him.
He stood, rooted to the spot. A minute passed, eyes filled with fear and uncertainty, but strangely, and slightly ironically, blank, as if he were not there, not in his body, knowing that his next decision would affect the whole outcome of the battle, and maybe even of the pack. He shook his head, his fur, and set back to where he came from.
Foalan, in the now
Foalan limped towards her brother, worried by his sudden disappearance after the nettle. She wasn’t surprised, really. Her gash still throbbed, red and angry, as she made her way forcefully through the rocks. Typical of Max; an impenetrable place, high above ground. Silence. No smells. Nothing. Just somewhere to be when he had to think, where nowhere could get to him, at least that’s what he thought. She liked his style. If she had known of this place before, she would have claimed it for herself.
She knew he knew she would eventually find him. It was the place that described her; open, tall, windy. She knew he knew that no-one else would bother coming; they all knew Max could leave for months at a time, that they should let him come when he was ready, but this time it had gone too far, in the way that it had barely been his fault, so he should not blame himself for such massacre. She had, furthermore, one of the best relations with Max. It was one of comfort; they shared their shyness, although his was to a more silent extent than hers would ever be.
She sighed, and went forward.
Sitting down beside him, she tried to reassure him, to no avail. She noticed him wince, and grimaced herself; she knew how he felt. It musn’t be easy, she thought slightly pityingly, knowing that he was blaming, and always would be, himself for the deaths of those that had fought bravely against the invasion.
Minutes of stony silence passed, and she just stared at him sadly. She let out a soft sigh and proceeded.
“Max…” she started, but soon trailed away.
“What?” he asked gruffly, voice sharp as a mountain stone, but at the same time hoarse from little use over the years.
She sighed again. “Look… We just wanted to let you know… Well, I do, at least… That I’ll be here, for you, if you need me… It wasn’t your fault…” She trailed off again, her ears pinned to her scruff, scared her sibling would react negatively, and, after all, she was the weaker of the two and she was injured. It wasn’t widely known, but Max had bad reactions when irked when he simply wanted to be left alone. She had suffered them several times. No wonder his other siblings simply left him alone; Max might be silent, introverted, but he wasn’t part of the weaker minority of the pack, unlike Foalan.
However, Max said nothing. He turned his face away, eyes scrunched up, and a single, salty tear dribbled down his face, and found it’s way sneakily into the corner of his mouth. Salt. Spray. The flashbacks continued.
Dax, yesterday
Dax looked desperately from Rayo to Foalan, and then to the rest of his siblings, his eyes wide with fear, and the spirit to live that screamed through his soul trying to escape wildly through his slit pupils. I don’t want to die! Not today! Not by the jaws of a Kronados! I want to die after having my pups, a large family! I don’t want to die!, his soul screamed. He let out a dejected oomph as another Kronados jumped upon the pile that was scrambling to try some delicious Warrior meat.
Dax whimpered as a light-coloured female Kronados took the first attempt at trying the tough delicacy. She bit the surface, barely doing any damage, but the others soon followed example. A hail of bites pecked strongly at his scruff, and a few started ripping at his armour’s straps.
Dax closed his eyes, and lifted his muzzle up in a dramatic gesture, letting out his death-cry, and calling for all his family to come and say their last goodbye’s. He got cut off as a muzzle bit his own, filling his mouth with blood, and he soon faded out to the seductive peace of unconsciousness.
Rayo, yesterday
Rayo growled. What a drama queen Dax is turning into, he thought with disdain. One of his comrades would never die, having the Ultimate Alfa by their side. He shook his head as the Kronados started piling up on top of him, and leapt into action, shoving the first layer of Kronados off the pile, and snapping at their heels to try to scare them away. Some did, turning tail, but others hissed and stood their ground. Faolan took care of them, making sure Rayo was left to do his thing.
Rayo’s fur started to bristle as his sibling started to let his death-howl out, and he started to panic mentally. What is he doing?! This will ruin our entire plan to warn the pack! He quickly snapped at his muzzle, causing him to cut off mid-howl. A trickle of blood followed, and Rayo observed Dax’s armor come loose and his body go limp. He continued removing the hungry Kronados, and with the help of Foalan, soon had dispatched most of them, if they had not already run away.
The waterfall’s small lake had turned a dark crimson red from the mixed blood that had emanated from the Warriors’ own wounds and the limp dead bodies of the Kronados that now floated on its rippling surface. Rayo snarled at the sight, and dragged his brother’s body out of the salty water, laying it on the now blue-black grass, and plonking down his own tired frame onto the grass. Foalan followed suit, licking the large gash that had been caused by an outraged Kronados, and then moving onto Dax’s, seeing as he couldn’t clean them himself.
They waited, hoping their calm sibling had not made a rash decision to follow his instincts and coming to the aid of the now resting Dax.
Max, in the now
Max shook his head, trying to shake the horrible feeling of the small nightmare he had relived just then. He opened his eyes softly, turning his head back to Foalan.
He sniffed, remembering how he had watched the later events unfold from a bush, wide-eyed and scared, tail-tucked tightly between his legs, body low and slightly shivering from the fear the scene was causing him, rooted to the spot and unable to move a muscle, not even close his eyelids, avoiding watching the scenes that seemed to back out from hell itself.
He remembered Rayo’s sharp, accusing and hateful bark, his anger, and the run back to camp. To find it half burnt, with all the pregnant faes growling fearfully at the Kronados, which were advancing menacingly towards them, while the pups whimpered in fear in a corner of the nursery den. Many were dead; some pups had tried to be brave, and instructed by their mothers, squirmed out of the back den hole to run into their captor’s jaws, and sadly, die a painful, tortuous death. To find some of his best comrades, convulsing with pain on the floor, happy Kronados yipping happily, and snapping at their flesh, not bothering to kill their prey before eating them, and he, rooted to the spot, unable to help in the least. He remembered running away, disappearing from the scene, leaving everything behind.
Foalan, in the now.
She sat there, stiff, while her healing shoulder throbbed, scared to move in case she interrupted her brother’s thoughts. She saw his gaze cloud distractedly, and realized he was reliving all the pain he must have gone through, all the humiliation at being the only one not to help, the only one to run away in this chaotic situation. She rested her dense, thick tail on his haunch, an action that went unnoticed by him, sadly.
She saw him come back to life, per say, and turn his head and meet her gaze. He nodded, surely what he would think would be imperceptibly, but after such an evening of silence, solitude and stormy peace, nothing went unnoticed. She smiled, and his face twisted up in a wry, contorted attempt at a smile, but just broke down to another frown at the pain of dark memories.
Max, in the now
And here he was meditating what had happened. So much in so little time, he thought bitterly, before meeting his gaze with his worried sister’s. He tried to smile back when she did so, but the resemblance between her smile and those of the pups that seemed to sleep their death peacefully made him break down. He sobbed silently, the hurt racking his shoulders and frame, and slowly, the pain ebbed away to give way to numbness, the type that foresaw healing, and, maybe, in the far future, forgiveness.
Foalan, in the now
“All will be well,” she said softly, seeing her brother let all the pain out in a river of tears, knowing it was the best way to heal. She turned her gaze to observe the dark sky, with it’s small crescent moon rising above the horizon. It would see many adventures, grow and reduce in size, see the pups of their pups. She now knew her brother would return, peace would be made. Life would go on. “All will be well,” she repeated, more to herself this time, and started to guide her brother, softly, with her tail, and gently, down the steep slopes that gave access to the high, windy and solitary cliffs.
I fear this is too long....
haha XD this my first free-hand oekaki, but I think you could knock of 30 mins off the timer, time spent doing other things or looking distractedly at my wall :3