Bred For Extinction

An Untrusting Journey

Mochan's current journey with his new companion was drawing close to an end. Nights had been spent traversing lonesome roads by the light of his motorcycle's shaky single head-light, days spent resting in whatever shelter could be found that would protect Cianna from the sun's searing rays. Still, even after the days spent together, there was little speech and even less trust. Mochan knew the vampire was right, however. They needed each other, and as little as he liked it, the bargain would stand until he gained what he needed to move further along his pursuit.

Soon would be the border between the two countries, the United States and Mexico. Just before they had settled down to rest for the daylight hours, the discussion took place of how the rest of the journey must be made on foot. It would be much easier to cross the border in animal form for both of them, and besides, the destination would not be far then. Their current housing was simply an old tattered shack that stood abandoned amidst the burning Texas landscape, but it would do as shelter and protection for Cianna during this day. The world here seemed desolate as they lay to rest, and even as Mochan slept light with almost one eye open, his mind fell deep in dream....into the realm that always seemed to call.

Dreams....for most dreams are lively visions that bring hope when their eyes open after a restful sleep...but nightmares, oh they cause you to fear to close eyes again as shadows dance in horrid activities. Nightmares are what Mochan had always experienced and this day would be no different. As his body twitched in restlessness, his mind resided elsewhere as his sight flooded with a dense swirling mist that enveloped him. From the corner of his eyes did a slow movement begin to creep its way through the mist and across his vision. Once again, the gray-cloaked form was presenting itself to him as her steady pulsing voice seeped into his conscious. "Mochan...can you hear me? Are you listening? Yes..you are listening...your acceptance is progressing well, but there is much to learn." Graceful hands rise up, coming together in front of darkened features that hide behind the hood, forming a cup of support for the air directly above her palms. The air takes on a heavier density, flowing like liquid that seems to waver, then solidify into a circular silver orb. Slowly it begins to rise high, flowing up as her thin hands brush power to its height. "Do you still remember the innocents?" Mochan watches the full moon replica float up, watches it change...to the screaming and pain-stricken images of faces thought forgotten...faces that once visited him nightly to show him his mistakes, perhaps to lead him elsewhere. "You must never forget these poor innocents...so many lives stripped of happiness...remember the ones you have sent down into puddle of their own blood...torn and rendered flesh...do you forget them? Or do you simply block them all out? Poor innocent Dwight, was it never him that did these deeds? No, always your beast....so you say ...so you blame...always poor, cursed Dwight. All this for denying your destiny. Your destiny is your only cause. Now shall you be plagued with tests to your will, and what you believed as reality no longer exists. Many wish you harm, even more care nothing. Do you feel alone? Do not...I am here waiting...you only have to find me...trust those you think you should not and be careful of the ones you trust. You are as close to hell as possible without standing in the flames. Do not falter now." With those words does the apparition fade, leaving Mochan alone calling, "Wait, don't leave me yet....I don't understand...never understand."

Frantically does he lunge up from his sleep, his breath labored with eyes wide, staring at the blankness of the small shack's frail wall.

"What calls you, wolf?" Cianna's voice is soft, yet stern in question.

Mochan shakes the dullness from his head as eyes blink awake, "What? What are you talking about?"

"Something calls you...I saw it in your face as you slept. What calls you?" The vampire slowly scoots her way across the dirt floor, coming into his vision, studying the perplexion in Mochan's features.