Post by gage on Aug 21, 2009 3:13:33 GMT -5
Gage walked the city still, the thoughts of his dreams heavy on his mind. He could not shake how much they seemed real, how much pain he kept feeling the two times he woke. He went over it in his mind again and again hoping to figure out why this was happening. A thought flew in his mind that maybe….his family blamed him for what had happened, that he was not there to protect them, blamed him for their deaths. He chocked for a moment and his hand went to his chest, he staggered and leaned against the side of a building to try and catch his breath. He though there was only one way that he could possibly handle this, his dreams…these thoughts, so he makes his way to the pride house. As he walked he saw visions of his fallen family, scenes of what might have happened to them, then their spirits rising from and not fully at rest. He tried to shake the thought form his mind; he could not know if they blamed him, why would they. The worries and logic fought within his mind and why the time he came to his scenes he was already in the house.
He slowly took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand. He walked up the stairs to his room, he went to his bed and slowly knelt down and reached under and pulling on a chest that was stored beneath it. He stands slowly and places the chest on the bed and opens it slowly; he may have moved many times over the years but he has always kept things of his home with him. Tightness began to form in his chest as he looked at the items; a jar of dirt, that of his peoples land and of the scent that he carried, a small strand of eagle feathers and his people ceremonial collar. He takes the items and goes out into the woods and, stripping his clothes as he goes. When he reaches a clearing he gathers branches and bark piling it up, with dry grass he begins to start a fire the way he was taught when he was a boy, and soon enough he has a large bon fire up and going. He looks up to the stars”Why…why is happening to me? Are you angry with me, are you mad that I was not there to protect you.” As he spoke one of his fingers turns into a long black claw and cuts into his other palm, letting blood flow. He then opens the jar of dirt and takes a bit of it and mixes it with the blood coming from his hand, then begins to smear it over his body and face, the markings of his tribe. He slides the feathers in his hair and begins to chant in the language of his people, calling of the spirit of his people, hoping they would answer his call. He chanted for what seemed like hours and he calls out “Please show me a sign, do you hate me…do you blame me!?” he slowly opens his eyes and through the fire, he is locked eyes with a Manito sucsee wab, “the sacred white deer”. His eyes went wide and his heart pounded hard within his chest for not many people get to see this sight, he had only heard legends about them. As he looked back at it, he felt as if a boulder was lifted form his body, he felt light and relaxed. He knew what it meant, they did not blame him, and the deer would not have shown itself to him if they were. He smiles broadly and gives the deer a nod and it looked as if nodded back to him before it bounded off to the woods. He stands up and looks up to the stars and smiles, and with this new found energy and happiness he could do nothing but run around the forest. After he could not run anymore he made his way back to the house still with a smile on his face, he gets into bed and that night, he had the best sleep he has had in years….and no nightmares
He slowly took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand. He walked up the stairs to his room, he went to his bed and slowly knelt down and reached under and pulling on a chest that was stored beneath it. He stands slowly and places the chest on the bed and opens it slowly; he may have moved many times over the years but he has always kept things of his home with him. Tightness began to form in his chest as he looked at the items; a jar of dirt, that of his peoples land and of the scent that he carried, a small strand of eagle feathers and his people ceremonial collar. He takes the items and goes out into the woods and, stripping his clothes as he goes. When he reaches a clearing he gathers branches and bark piling it up, with dry grass he begins to start a fire the way he was taught when he was a boy, and soon enough he has a large bon fire up and going. He looks up to the stars”Why…why is happening to me? Are you angry with me, are you mad that I was not there to protect you.” As he spoke one of his fingers turns into a long black claw and cuts into his other palm, letting blood flow. He then opens the jar of dirt and takes a bit of it and mixes it with the blood coming from his hand, then begins to smear it over his body and face, the markings of his tribe. He slides the feathers in his hair and begins to chant in the language of his people, calling of the spirit of his people, hoping they would answer his call. He chanted for what seemed like hours and he calls out “Please show me a sign, do you hate me…do you blame me!?” he slowly opens his eyes and through the fire, he is locked eyes with a Manito sucsee wab, “the sacred white deer”. His eyes went wide and his heart pounded hard within his chest for not many people get to see this sight, he had only heard legends about them. As he looked back at it, he felt as if a boulder was lifted form his body, he felt light and relaxed. He knew what it meant, they did not blame him, and the deer would not have shown itself to him if they were. He smiles broadly and gives the deer a nod and it looked as if nodded back to him before it bounded off to the woods. He stands up and looks up to the stars and smiles, and with this new found energy and happiness he could do nothing but run around the forest. After he could not run anymore he made his way back to the house still with a smile on his face, he gets into bed and that night, he had the best sleep he has had in years….and no nightmares