STONE

Recovery

"Sage.... Sage, wake up... Wake up, son, it's past dawn!"

Memories flashed through his mind as Tripp laid peacefully asleep. Everything was a blur, but he could catch bits and pieces of his surroundings. The voice he heard was deep, welcoming. As his eyes open, he saw a man, tall, muscular, very becoming in his looks. His eyes were a bright sapphire, his mane-like hair, a deep crimson. He also had pointed ears like Tripp's, except a bit longer and was covered in soft fur. His teeth was bright and sharp, but friendly as he smiled. A comfort warmed over him. Strength, intellect, power, protection emanated from this man.

He saw this man throughout his visions and figured he was someone of importance. He imagined a hut, carved out from a large, bright river rock, that seemed to be his dwelling.
Another vision flashed through and it seemed to be a large arena with others like him, sparring against each other. The man he saw before was standing beside him, encouraging him to join. He found this man inspiring, awestruck with such power, and yet calm and safe to be around. He wish he could remember more of him. He actually took comfort in the man's presence.

Memories continued to go through his mind. A moment he saw looking over a cliff, looking down on a peaceful village, next moment was chasing down a hart in the forest or climbing the cliffs of a mountain side. The scent of grass, trees and wind flooded into his mind. The feeling of freedom, peace and understanding rushed over his body, nothing could stop him, he felt free..

A memory flashed across to a much different setting. A battlefield, armored battleships lined up in the sky to no end. It smelled of smoke, burning flesh, blood and death. The pained roars of the ones around him filled his mind like a battering ram as he ran through the battle. He and his body armour was stain with mud and dripping in blood, but he couldn't tell if it belonged to him or the dying men around him.
Beast against man.
His arms, powerful and lethal as he swiped his massive armored paws across his enemies, feeling the bones and skulls crush and crumble beneath him. He battled through, though he couldn't recall what the fight was about. All he could figure was the beasts were ambushed, and the weapons against them were too powerful.

With an ground quaking roar, he charged at a group of soldiers, but before he could, the memory vanished, sending him into a bright white room, then the light went dark.
This had a more eerie feeling of emotions instead of the dark battle that was before.
Across the room, he saw a young girl, restrained onto a chair, pale fear and scars shrouded on her face. She seemed to beg for help but it only came as a whisper to him. He too felt fear, clinching to his chest, something horrible was going to happen and he knew what it was, but he again couldn't recall it. He wanted to comfort her, let her know things were going to be okay, but nothing was said. He had to get out, he had to escape, but to where?
A door cracked open and there approached the man, Sterile, in a lab coat, holding a few instruments in his hands.
He loathed Sterile. Rancor boiled inside of him. He wanted to hurt him, no, cut him, tear him, just rip him apart. He wanted this Sterile to slowly die an agonizing death. Where was this hate coming from?
He looked down at his own hands and realized that he too was restrained, wires of all sorts connected to him. Sterile was talking to him, but again, it all came to a whisper..

Before being able to respond, the memory faded away and it slowly came to a dark area onto a rooftop.
As he slowly adjusted, his eyes caught sight of his surroundings. It was dark, cold, raining hard against his head. He could hear Sterile's voice as clear as day beside him. He didn't feel like himself, he felt bigger, stronger. Like a raging fire inside his chest, ready to burst and burn everything around him.