Since this is for Roar, I need a quick opinion on it X3 Things I need to know:
Does it fit the theme ‘Scoundrel’ well enough?
Is it too all over the place? Should I tighten that up?
Is it too expo-heavy? Should I even bother introducing a new species, or go with a simpler, well-known creature?
Does it feel like you’re being dumped in the middle of something, or can it stand on its own two feet as its own story?
Anything else that makes this not worth submitting? X3
I know it’s a lot to ask, but if I could get feedback by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be a very happy munchkin. Thank you!
1982 words.
~~~~~*~
Vash licked her paws clean of the warm blood. There wasn’t much since it hadn’t been very large prey. Meat was getting more and more difficult to find in these woods. Food in general was becoming more difficult to come by; even the fruits and nuts and berries that grew wild held a bitter taste that she didn’t quite trust. It was as if everything was responding to the newest resident, and not a bit of it was good.
Her Master was also much like a father to her, and for some time now hoped he would one day be her Holte. He even influenced the color of her fur and eyes by the foods he gave her - something only family had a right to do. So she trusted his judgment, even if some of his decisions seemed strange to her.
So when he brought a poodle home, she took the change in stride and continued on. It wasn’t unusual for her Master to bring new girls to his bed. The poodle whined a lot, and her yelping barks she tried to pass as howls as she tried to posture as a wolf could get annoying, but there was sweetness to her naivety and innocence to her obliviousness.
Vash sighed and stalked to the lake, her form still larger than a tiger. She normally didn’t linger in the hunting form, but she didn’t feel safe in these woods anymore. Not after the stench she had caught on the wind a few weeks back: foul lies, gaseous pride, rotting falsehoods. She needed to leave.
But where would she go? She was the last of the Needletooth, an ancient race that worked with the Two-leggers to protect their lands. Once the two-leggers betrayed her kind, everything fell apart. Needletooth and Two-leggers alike died - there were so many bound by soul as Holtes, and the betrayal cut so deep that none bound survived. In a desparate attempt to save their own kind, the Needletooth abandoned the Two-leggers and swore to never again bind with them. They went into hiding, but a horrid plague swept through, killing many and making most of the survivors barren. Vash was the last, or so she had been told. For all she knew, everything she had gleamed from the Memories of Those Past could just be her imagination. She could just be a hybrid, or there could be a whole group of Needletooth alive and well somewhere. It seemed the former was far more likely than the latter though.
She waded into the lake and turned her silver eyes up to the full moon. There was something about the lake that didn’t feel… right. She frowned as she looked down at the way her dark fur moved with the waters. The liquid wasn’t calming like usual, but felt restless somehow. She carefully made her way to the shore and shook each large paw before shaking her entire body. There would be no comfort from the waters tonight.
She had her guesses as to why. Her Master might have built the estate, but it was the dragoness who was in tune with the lands, and she was reaching the explosive end of a very, long temper. Illianna could put up with most anything, forgive most anyone… except for lies and those who spoke them. They say the longer the temper, the more violent the explosion. If there was any truth in that, the entire estate might be taken down soon.
Vash found herself at the front steps of said estate and paused with one forepaw lifted, staring at the thick ebony doors. Recently, her Master kicked Vash out of the bedroom because the poodle considered Vash a dirty thing. Yet the Needletooth still had the rest of the estate to roam, as long as the poodle wasn’t in the same area. She might even be able to sneak some comfort from her Master, as long as the poodle wasn’t hanging onto his side like a self-righteous mouse.
Vash head-butted the door to open it as she always had in the past. The door didn’t budge. She frowned up at it, silently asking why it didn’t move for her. She tried again, with more force, but it didn’t move. She flexed her claws, dug them into the stone steps, and pushed with all her strength. Still, nothing. She sat back on her haunches and eyed the handle. The simple latch she would have used had been replaced with knobs round knobs. When had that been changed…?
No matter, there were other ways in. Vash padded off and made her way to the east wing. The kitchen window was always left open to the scent of the roses and the noise of birdsong from Illianna’s garden in the back. Though the garden suffered, the window was left open. Vash grinned, white interlocked teeth gleaming in her muzzle. At least some things never changed.
She shrank to the size of a house cat, though her long black fur interwove into itself, showing off her red undercoat in streaks and making it practically impenetrable except to the blade now exposed at the end of her tail - there was no way she was going in fully vulnerable to the poodle. She glanced back at it, the poison glistening in the light of the moon. She gave it a quick flick, droplets splaying over the warm earth. Never could she imagine making use of her tail within the estate. She wasn’t about to start now.
Vash looked back up at the window and judged the distance. The estate was on a tall foundation, so the window was fifteen feet up. She crouched down, coiling her muscles, and leapt up to it with ease. Balancing on the sill for a moment, she glanced about the enormous kitchen,. It seemed for once the coast was clear.
She hopped down from the sill to the floor, bypassing the sink in between, and padded her way silently across. She head-butted the swing door, holding her breath for a half heartbeat before the door swung open. Good, at least all things weren’t closed off to her. She moved through and walked down the long hallway toward the east wing living room.
She hadn’t stepped one foot inside when a shrill scream set her teeth on edge. She looked up at the poodle, who was climbing on her Master as she pointed at Vash.
“What’s that - that Thing doing in here?!” Her Master wrapped his arms around the poodle and spoke in a soothing voice.
“It’s okay dear. It’s just Vash. I’ll -“
“I know What it is! I want that dirty thing out of my house! Now!”
Vash turned her eyes to her Master at those words. ‘Her’ house? Since when - but she didn’t get to finish her thoughts. A went flying, forcing her to leap out of the way. Vash glared at the poodle, who was arming herself with a plate now. The plate flew, but this time instead of running, the Needletooth’s tail darted out faster than the eye could follow. The plate shattered into countless small pieces. Her tail quivered over her shoulder, the muscles tense, daring the poodle to throw another.
“Just get out of here, Vash.”
She froze at her Master’s words, her eyes studying his own. His had become as cold and hard as ice. There was no love for her there, no silent apology, just hate, disgust, and a warping that ran deeper than she could have guessed. She was so taken back that didn’t notice the lamp he threw until it struck and sent her tumbling to the floor.
She shook her head as she righted herself, more stunned by the revelation than the blow itself. She didn’t have time to recover as another plate went flying. She darted around the corner and down the hall, slowing only once she reached the kitchen door. A thrown glass barely missed, and she shot through the door and leapt up to the window sill. She paused, perched there, and looked back at the life she once knew and loved. Her Master burst through and grabbed a steak knife from the counter, a snarl twisting his face into an ugly shape. So this was how it would end. She had seen it coming, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly, so violently.
Vash was outside on the ground before the knife went sailing through the window. She felt her body grow once more as she ran through the night. So be it. Each long stride put more and more distance between her and the place she once called home. Her fur loosened as she ran, allowing the cool night air to caress her skin beneath. She didn’t stop until she was stomach-deep in the river that fed the lake. Here, at least, the water still felt pure.
She pinned her own tail between her large forepaws and the hard smooth rocks that made up the bottom of the riverbed. Her head dipped down into the icy waters, and her small ears lowered to close them off. Normally weaving her fur would protect her from the cold, but instinct demanded her fur remain loose for this to work.
She worked mercilessly on the tip of her tail. First she had to get to the thin membrane that protected the rest of her body from her own poison. Her long sharp teeth - her namesake, were more akin to precision tools than hatchets or axes though, so her progress was slow. She knew the instant the membrane gave. The radiating pain of cutting into her own tail was far outweighed by the sudden shock of her poison. It set her blood on fire and turned her nerves to ice.
She wasn’t done yet. Next she needed to take off the rest of her tailtip, or the blade would never grow back. Several heartbeats raced by, or maybe her heart was just reacting to the poison in her blood, but finally she raised her head out of the water with her stinger caught between her teeth. She tossed her head and sent the deadly blade downriver. The few creatures still lingering the lake had already grown accustomed to her poison, and the bulk of it was now in her own system. The end of her tail, stinger and all, should grow back with time, but the colors…
For the rest of the night she watched the red and black bleed out of her fur to be carried away by the restless waters. The new day found her fur hollow and colorless, tinted by nothing but the pale pink skin beneath. Only when the sun began to peek over the mountains did she step out of the water. She shook herself from nose-tip to tail-tip, which was now a sealed stump hidden in her fur.
She had followed her instincts and the fragments of memories from Those Who Passed and knew she had been successful. She knew it in the same way she knew even her eyes would be free of color now. In the same way she knew that the only color she bore beyond her skin would be the silver tear tracks on either side of her muzzle, and even those would fade with time. She just hoped the hollow pain that had settled within her would fade with them.
She looked back in the direction of her Master’s home, and the hollow within threatened to grow. She would have to leave the estate, these woods, this valley - the only place she had ever called home. It would only be a matter of time before she found the way. For now, she turned her back to the estate and stretched out in the warmth of the rising sun, away from the Two-leggers and lies and falsehoods. For now, she waited.