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06-09-2015, 10:30 PM
His fur, once dark, has turned grey with his age and his eyes have begun to grow cloudy. He can barely see the pegasus from his position tucked away in the corner of the dark cavern, but he watches. He remains still, his old body and old bones cause him pain every time he moves, but he is still alive. Still breathing. Still thriving, but it is just barely. Each day that passes inches him closer and closer to the end and he knows that it is only a matter of time before death finally comes for him. Each horse that wanders into the caves, he assumes, is the reaper coming for his soul, but they leave and he is left to thrive for one more day.
This one, he thinks, looks innocent. This one, he thinks, is nothing to worry about. So while she stands near the waterfall and enjoys the spray of water he rises. He groans, his joints pop, and his arthritis flares. It is a constant reminder of his age and he longs for the days when he ran with his pack as a mighty alpha. Now he is nothing more than a starving loner, an old man with a future that promises nothing but pain and his eventual death. Still, he wants to live.
His long claws click against the stone floor as he hobbles toward the waterfall. His head turns and his cloudy blue eyes stare at the pegasus for a moment before he turns his head back to the water. If it were not for his thirst, and her innocent appearance, he would remain hidden in the shadows until the mare left. But now he settles his old, feeble body near the water and he begins to drink.
@[Cirrus]
