Vapor trail
Mar 2, 2015 0:53:12 GMT -5
Post by Bird is the word on Mar 2, 2015 0:53:12 GMT -5
He stared out over the slow rippling pond, alive with the teeming life of early morning. Kamal had been caught fast by the beauty of new sprouting flowers, the steady wonder that came with a body of water so peaceful. When he breathed in he could taste the freedom, feel the gentle caress of the wind against the sides of his face; life was good. It had been good for quite some time, it had always been good actually; now he shared the glory of a good life with those around him. It brought a great sense of satisfaction to give back where he had been continuously taken from when he was younger.
At times when they were younger he and his siblings would gather around a pond nearby to play. Their mother and father, quite unrepentant in their lack of care, allowed for this. It was their baby sibling, the sickly one, they took so she could see the spring as they had promised her. Kamal smiled fondly on her memory, glancing up to the trees as though he could see her painted across the sky.
The boughs of new sprouted foliage gave him no better picture on how his once sickly sister was doing. Long spindly branches were just now being covered with baby leaves and small buds. His gaze went back to the gentle pond. If he listened really closely he could hear them all again, back in his tender years.
Kamal had become more formidable as time had gone on, but he still recalled shaking in terror of the night when he first entered Cascaro. It had been a long journey to where he was now. Constantly looking over his shoulder for the next assault, he had wondered when a dog was to do him in. There had been no great, wonderful turning point but merely one too many straws on the figurative camel that broke him. After taking the abuse of other’s one too many times he had bargained with the devil and the devil left in fear of his life.
It was the lowest, and highest, point in his life. When he realized that he was willing to exert that kind of power over another dog’s life he had decided that perhaps he needed to make a decision, needed to make a change. Kamal, first a pacifist not from choice, became a protector. Those who had been in the same situation he had been in necessitated care regardless of whether they understood the implications of refusing to accept his help. Over time he had learned how to circumvent even the most stubborn of individuals, allowing them to think they were doing him a favor.
But every now and again even he needed some time to metaphorically let his hair down. Today was that day. He would be taking a break from his duties to enjoy nature, and to find something to bring back home to McNair.
// Closed for WARDOG