Cellen was lost.
His feet pivoted, turning her body in a continuous circle as his eyes stared up towards the gnarled maritime pines that towered over him. Scarce rays of light attempted to trickle through the boughs overhead but it was futile. The moon waned in worthless shame above---unable to ward off the unsettling shadows that saturated the stillness. Cellen was disoriented. There was no trace of familiarity etched upon the muddled, malformed bark of trees or sewn within the tapestry of the stars overhead. Where was Polaris, the immovable icon? Had the stars secretly re-arranged themselves with other celestial cohorts to collaborate and conflict confusion? Fear waxed stronger. The Mokai abrasively clenched his jowls, flustered. A wreath of mist snorted from out of his nostrils and dissipated against the brisk breeze. Where was he?
Dilated eyes longed for the sight of something, someone, to help lighten the juxtaposed strain that ransacked his recollections. If there were any at all, that is. Regardless of his persistent silent pleas, truths’ frigid kiss at last panged him as warmth fled from his cheeks.
Cellen was alone.
Faux compassion caressed against his face, empty whispers of meaningless nothings instilled a heightened sense of dread to pulsate through his veins. From out of the ashes of confusion sparks of meddled voices began to kindle and ignite. The animus hounding of dismay bellowed its own battle cry alongside the accompanied direction of damnation.
Breathing was becoming burdensome. It felt as if a weight was thrust upon his chest, pressure pummeling against his lungs. Struggling to inhale a mouthful of air, Cellen gasped. Amongst the voices that oozed from out of oblivion there was one that stood apart, one that was distinct. Its vigor increased, overpowering the conglomerate voices with a commanding hiss. The attack was unexpected, unseen and its accuracy was deadly; its fangs latched into him and begun administering a malicious venom of misfortune. A pained loneliness slowly began to corrosively consume him. The very ability to think and react became constricted— it was as if chains began to bind him, forcing her to succumb to its will by means of breaking either spirit or bone. All hope felt lost. The condemned claws of chaos plunged into Cellen's chest, raking his insides with a relentless pursuit to obliterate the soul itself.
Cellen’s strength buckled.
He could make it all go away, if he let himself slip away into the recesses of the silent beyond. But then what—what else was there? Once an individual slipped away it was forever. There was no going back. He could feel his thoughts haze, eyelids combating the urge to succumb to slumber. Stay awake, he urged himself with a fighting plea, just stay awake. But it was a losing battle as Cellen collapsed onto his stomach. His front paws attempted to brace himself; slamming into the ground as his claws grappled, plunging into the soil with resistance. He wasn’t giving up that easily, damn it. Was he buying time or simply extending the exposure to anguish?
Snarling hackles echoed throughout the pine grotto along with laughter- a dark, eerie laugh. It pierced Cellen with a swift sharpness while a chilled swell suddenly pulsated through his veins. He stiffened. What was happening? Surly there was an answer, a reason, but none came. Inside his body was screaming for the end to come and likewise the idea was starting to appeal to him more and more. Again, he tried to breathe and barely managed to thieve enough air to prolong the battle just a bit longer but the conclusion seemed inevitable. This was the end. The realization was too raw, too vivid at this point.
Cellen was losing.
From amongst the foreboding veil of shadows, a figure loomed. Its presence hadn’t gone undetected and even while contending against his own rational Cellen had caught sight of it from out of the corner of her eye. It had seemed so trivial then. Hee cringed— the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Whether the being was man or beast was obscure; its form comprised of smoke-like shadows. Helplessly, he watched at it drew closer, his eyes staring up toward the beings voracious pools of luminous crimson that radiated from its’ face. The longer he aligned her sight with the creature the more he swore there was a twisted expression that seemed to rivet wicked smoke-like fangs---daggers embedded within a feral grin.
A harrowing roar erupted from the beast as the ground quivered from its presence. What looked to be the paw of a bear was forged from the shadows, raised upward as its form billowed against a wayward breeze.
This was it.
Come what may, Cellen's mind concluded having wrestled with the bitter end in sight. His eyes pooled, welling up as their beads trickled down his cheeks. The forepaw of the beast drew back, tension conjuring up within its powerful muscles; preparing to deliver the means to an eternal slumber.
Cellen surrendered.
The paw flung forward with ruthless claws in tow. The feral watched, anticipating a swift blow that would emancipate her from the prolonged torment. Moments before merciless mean could render through flesh, a flash of light bursts through the concealing shadows. The darkness reeled in retaliation, attempting to mask the interruption. With vigor, light rained down upon the suffocated surroundings. A feeling of warmth encircled itself around Cellen, a comforting aura wrapped around her as it quelled the infectious inflictions with a sacred remedy. Enraged, the shadow-beast rebuked with a savage snarl but the moment light graced its form the creature erupted into flames, burning into nothingness and dissipating back into the oblivion from whence it came.
Lying there on the ground Cellen sputtered, coughing as his lungs seized the air. He inhaled deeply, quenching his lungs longing thirst. Slowly, consciousness began to regain coherency with a sluggish pace while his senses conjured their composure.
Cellen was alive. But how?
“Cellen—“
A voice, one that was soothing with an enveloping warmth, called out to him. Fear again rose within him. His body braced itself in defense but the voice’s gentle countenance seemed to stroke and smooth the feral's rising apprehension. Although weak, Cellen was still subject to his own curiosity as he looked up toward the light only to be taken aback. Was he delusional or was this—was this real? He strained his eyes, attempting to decipher this hand or, rather, who it belonged to. the figure knelt down beside him and extended its open hand near him with up most caution and respect.
He scrutinized the hand for a moment before peering deeper into the light. There, he saw someone—someone familiar. There was no name to correlate with a face although the tender expression that the woman displayed seemed enough to compel Cellen to trust her. With what strength she could muster, Cellen stretched his head forward and pressed his forehead against the palm of her hand. It was at that very moment he became alarmed when the hands wrapped around his neck tenderly, wrapping around his fuzzy bulk. Reassurance resurfaced and refortified the broken soul.
The woman smiled. Soft laughter escaped with a chuckle. “You cheeky blighter,” she smirked, weaving her fingers through his mane. “Promise me you'll always remember that you're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think, Cellen?"
That phrase-- how could he forget it. Or rather, how could he have forget her? Disjointed memories were beginning to thread together the recognition of a forgotten caretaker, friend; his human.
Cellen's posture melted as he dismantled the barrier which he had constructed, the voracious façade fading from his face as a swell of relief tamed his wild spirit. His ears flattened against his skull. His chest tightened sharply with a gasp followed by a slow exhale of breath.
A whine choked itself from out of the feral. “"Keegan…”
Although communication between human and Mokai relied on body language and expression, there was an undeniable spark that ignited within Cellen's eyes as familiarity came to fruition. Keegan bit her lower lip, eyes welling with relief. “Oh Cellen---” She leaned closer and pressed her forehead against the feral's and tightened their embrace; one that at last would quell the pains of separation and loss that had been inflicted upon the two.
A flood of emotions began to churn inside of the Mokai with the force a tempest swell. Fear dispersed as relief’s warmth wrapped around him.
Before Cellen could even utter another word, he was whisked away. The surroundings and the figure of the woman melded into the radiant light before it suddenly exploded with an unrivaled, lustrous aura that rivaled the sun. Its countenance blossomed with a continual, celestial sheen until unbridled light washed over everything with a cleansed renewal.
---------
Jostled from sleep, Cellen awoke. His eyes fluttered tiredly as the remnants of a voice sweetly echoed within her mind. Morning light filtered into the den as he lay there, staring outward.
Whether by means of redemption or friendships binding love, the feral fighter was rescued by the very person he had ignorantly disobeyed, abandoned even. Guilt overcame him with a sudden wave of regret and the pained recognition of an unbreakable bond.
Burying her face beneath his paws, Cellen wept.
