The dead wild rye of the plains crunched beneath a frail orange paw, the orange tom stared up at the monument. The tom blinked, his eyes growing wider and wider with restored faith. The tom stepped forward, swiping the dirt and dust away from the clay statue. He read the engraving, shaking with excitement. The tom bowed his head, slicing into his meaty skin and letting his blood drip into the dirty, broken clay bowl. He took a shaky breath, his body jolting with a nervous, fearful pang. The orange tom opened his mouth, leaving it hanging for a while as his tongue curled up in his mouth.
" Ol ancestors, wise and strong,
I summon you, I sing the song,
With this blood, I surrender
With my knowledge, I remember
As my blood pools up in this bowl,
I offer you... My soul. "
The dead ground shook and rumbled, spirals of ghostly cats circled the old orange tom, going faster and faster.... then, darkness.
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|
Note: This is an introduction, it is bound to be short.
What do you think has just happened? What do you think about these primal cats?
YOU ARE READING
primal
Fanfictionhere in the plains, bright and tall, lays the stains of the primal call. ×× we have been summoned ××
