The Blue Wolf (Part 2)

Autumn. Three months had passed. She came to him a few more times. Sometimes, something caught her attention, and she'd ask curious questions in a neverending stream - he'd answered the all. Other times, both of them just sat or lied close to each other, neither conversing with sound, but with subtle gestures, such as a nod of the snout, a glance, a flare of nostrils. She was still waiting, he knew, for more glimpses about his own life from himself, but he was just as patient. He know the time was not yet then, but it would come soon.

That day had come.

Rising from his midday nap, his instincts immedtiately howled danger. He bounded out of his den, and the scents in the wind confirmed his suspicions. Humans. He bared his teeth as he thought of what he would face soon, grinned inwardly in anticipation at the thought of having to do it.

The humans are moving southeast, towards the den where her family had been resting. Wasting no more time, he loped eastwards, downwind, so that he can track the humans and learn of them.

Let's hunt, he called, to the winds, the the earth, to the skies.

* * *

The humans are lounging on the ground, each and every one of them arming themselves with the guns and nets. He was watching them from afar, and noted that they'd only brought two dogs, which means that these humans weren't capable enough to enlist the aid of more - or dangerously confident in their capabilities.

No matter. Either they'll be scared away, their non-existent tails between their knees, or they will have their throats ripped apart. He slinked away, leaving no noise, no trails, not even scents that can be picked out by the hounds nose.

Now, to set up the scene - and give both sides in the inevitable battle a surprise. For he knew, in his heart of hearts, that these people will not give up the hunting of wolves, ill-equipped they may seem.

The Blue Wolf

Red sun, yellow skies, orange clouds,
Dawn to all those within darkness shrouded.
Beware,
All brothers and sisters out there,
Cross not the teritory,
Nor the path that I bear.

Sprightly buck, helpless fawn, doe the protector,
Black moose, brown elk, forest conquerors.
All seemed alert and wary,
Yet myself they all overlooked easily.

Blue moon, black night,
Yet another meal that sustain the spark of another's life.
Deep snarl, loud cry,
That freezes all that listens,
As well as those within sight.

Small hill, tall pine,
A howl from the sillhoute that is mine.
Proud nature, cruel fate,
Tonight, who slumbers on,
And who stay awake?

She recited the verse in her heart, as she did so many times before -and, with the silent recital comes the question that finally comes out of the mouth, to the one who composed it, "But...... don't you ever feel lonely?"

He smiled at her, fully understanding that she could not yet comprehend the way he did for the very term 'lonely'. She is too young, after all - barely half his age, and at this time of her life, she's yet to cross the Rubicon and attend the baptism of fire. Still, his instincts told him sound and true - she is special compared to others her age. "Little one, when you lived as I did to my age, you'll learn to appreciate and enjoy being lonely."

"Really?" she sounds unconvinced. "Mama says that all of us will feel that need to mate, to form a pack on time or another. She says that it is what every wolf does."

Sadness flickered across his face, as his remembered his pack, his life in it, and the catastrophe that destroyed it, tearing almost everything he once held dear away from him. But he restrained his thoughts, hiding his emotional turmoil from the youngling in front of him, and said, "Well, I'm not your average wolf, now am I?"

When she did not respond, apparently in thought, he seized the chance and said, "Look, dusk is coming. You wouldn't want your parents to find you missing when they return from their hunting. Go back to your nest now."

When he said that, she'd usually hurry away with a hasty goodbye, but this time, her eyes bore into his for a moment before she opened her mouth, tried to speak, then closed it again with a shake of her head. Then, she turned around and padded away, reluctant to leave.

He watched her form disappeared into the bushes, his blue fur rippling as a breeze played around his form. There's something knowing in his eyes.

She will be back again. And, he will wait until she is mature enough, then he will tell her everything.

VG and Me

By VG, its video games, be it from the consoles (I own a PlayStation and a PlayStation2), or the PC. Believe me, I started playing VG since I was 5 years old, could install it by 6, and owned at least 15 games before I was in third year of my primary education. It didn't matter to me that 30 percent of the games I owned was not actually suited for my age - I delibrately changed the "blood colour" settings in my first Serious Sam into green to make it look "more realistic".

Now, though, I changed my prefered genre of VG to adventuring RPGs and RTS - role-playing and real-time-strategy for those who didn't know the abbreviations. My favourite? Age of Mythology , Warcraft III (I'd only use it to play DotA, though) , Orochi Warriors (PS2) , and the Digimon World series (2 and 4) , to name a few.

I loved it whenever I executed a move using my character that left his opponent lying and knocked out. I grinned in delight when an opponent army fell for my ruse and was lured out of the safety of his city, only to be completely annihilated by my own, far more superior army. and I simply love it when my Juggernaut just come out and execute a Double Kill in the span of 15 seconds.

Am I addicted?

Nah, I'm just obsessed.

Its what most teens are caught up with, right?

To me, it doesn't matter why I'm so, 'cause I don't think VG is going to be everything in my life. aside from reading and exercising, this proves to be my recreational activity - and one that lets me unleash all of my tension in one go.

So, I'm definitely playing on.

My Greens

When I came to brood about it on a dreary, moody day, I realized that half the plants grown in my house had already been there since I was a toddler. This means that we grew up under the same roof, cared for by my father. Half brothers, then.

The Cactus - This one stays in my living room all the time. It never gets out to enjoy direct sunlight nowadays, and hardly recieves any water at all. Still, it survives in a less-than-friendly environment. Even without the elements much plants would need to grow out of seedhood, it continues to stand proud, teaching me to not be down.

The Orchid - The subspecies that my father cares about the most, these orchids are beautifully, simple. There is no flair in them, yet they can struck quite a chord in the hearts of those who appreciate it. Still, I 'd like them more if they had fragrance.

The Bonsai - These little pot-plants have been twisted to form shapes my father desires. He uses copperwires to do the job. If you look closely, the stems actualy bulge out from the restricting coils, so the wire now cannot be pulled out ever again. Good thing my own life ain't that twisted, though sometimes I wish it wasn't as restricted.

The Lotus - Ahh, the gentleman of flowers. Surprisingly, their petals fall off soon after the flower blossom. That leaves the stalk in the middle, standing tall above the leaves and swaying in the wind. Its nakedness did nothing to dim its beauty, rather it made me thought otherwise.

So there it is, four amongst the plants that grew up with me. I wasn't much of a plant lover, but its great to just stare at them, take pictures of them, or even smell them - even though the plants are scentless.