Life Of An Outcast (prologe) | Teen Ink

Life Of An Outcast (prologe)

December 8, 2009
By BubCat BRONZE, Moscow, Pennsylvania
BubCat BRONZE, Moscow, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

“You’ll end the world if you do this!” a dark figure yelled at his captures.

“Are you sure? Seems more like you and your filthy, wretched self will!” one of them sneered.

They dragged the dark man towards a wooden, unforgiving cross. As they tied him down his face was clear in the sunlight. He was a muscular figure, with his long brown hair and beaten up body. He soon turned into a large wolf trying to tear off the bindings which held him to his doom.

“That won’t work, stupid. The rope is made of Saber hair. No one-not even Sabers!-can break through it.” one of the men surrounding him said, with a straight face and a beard. “Say, young man, what is your name?”

The wolf bared his teeth as he looked around. He was in front of thousands of Clan Wolves and Sabers; they looked up at him with hatred.

“Just kill him!”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!”

“Hurry, before he does his wretched witch craft!”

“Quiet! Let the man answer and state his case!” The man with the beard yelled.
The wolf tied to the cross stopped struggling and looked at the man. He spoke with a wolfish growl, that is understood by all beings.

“My name is Deimos Lanbrith. I have done nothing wrong but live and try to create peace with this world. My father was a Saber. My mother was a Clan Wolf. They have both died, one at the hands of war, the other by his own doing.” The wolf fell silent again. “Why does this make me an evil creature? Am I not like you? Why do you-”

“That, my friend, is because you have no side! You choose neither to be with the Sabers nor Clan Wolves! You started this war between us!” a simple man out of the crowd yelled; which started more to cuss and fight.

“I choose to live alone, because all you have is hatred between one another, and have horrible gruesome rules. I cannot live like that!”

This silenced the crowd.

“Well, Mr. Lanbrith, my name is Fredrick Sherwood, or, as many call me, Acel. All I want to say, sir, is goodbye, and I’m sorry.”

As soon as Acel finished the rest of the surrounding men started pouring gasoline on Deimos and the cross.

“There will be another!” he yowled with a chuckle.

“What do you-”


The author's comments:
Inspired by my friends and my love for wolves.

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