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Cronic stirred slowly from his sleep, his bright golden eyes cutting through the darkness as he blinked away the edges of his sleep. Peering out towards the mouth of the cave, he could see the sheets of rain that continued to fall, a curtain that covered the visage of the world behind it in gentle tv static. Not that there was much to see beyond that anyway; a few trees barely visible in the backlight of a full moon, and then the silhouette of the forest down below - a formless, dark blob that reminded him of spilled ink.
Still, he didn’t really care about the view. His ears lifted high, summoned by the noise he thought he had heard, twisting like radar dishes towards the mouth of the cave in the hopes that he hadn’t simply dreamed the noise.. but there.. there it was again; the deep, distant burble of thunder, like a threatening snarl rumbling at the back of a dragon’s throat, nothing more than a hushed fury at this distance.
Excitement tingled through his body, burning away the remnants of tiredness as he sat and watched and listened to the stirring of the storm, the first signs that the consistent babble of rain was going to be thrown into something far more spectacular. He could feel it. There was a familiar pressure that began to grow and a rich, metallic tang that started to wash into his lungs with every deep breath he drew, growing thicker and thicker as though the air itself was beginning to shrink back in fear of the oncoming onslaught. The playfulness of the wind began to turn, whistling fiercer and fiercer, no longer toying with the curtain of rain but gathering it up in harsh gales, hurling it through the trees outside so that they began to creak and pop and their leaves began to flutter and become ripped from their branches. There was an energy that grew; powerful and violent and beautiful all the same, brewing minute upon minute, wrenching the sense of safety from the landscape and replacing it with a sense of growing urgency and yet here, tucked inside this cave, where the wind and rain couldn’t reach, where no tree could fall upon him, where his scales were warm and dry, and where the approaching storm could only growl and snarl and scream at him, all felt peaceful.
The thunder rolled again, louder this time, closer, and in the distance out of view of the cave mouth there was a small flash of bright light, far too fast to reveal the landscape below but enough to send a similar flash of adrenaline through him. It was close. A second pair of ears perked up and Cronic shifted his forelegs, loosening his grip on the little bundle of fur that was balled up there allowing a head to emerge curiously from the curve of his underside. She was a coyote, a coyote of sorts anyway; fur shaded deep mauve and white, dotted with small markings that glittered like stars fighting their way through the patches of cloud, and as she stirred to the sound of the storm too, she nuzzled her way half out of his wing and after a small glance at him, set her gaze on the world outside as well.
They watched as the rain drove harder, hurtling furiously across the front of the cave like an angry swarm of insects unable to enter, and they listened as the wind howled in violent gusts that were filled with the loud cracking of thick branches breaking. Lighting forked into view in a long blinding streak that split the sky above in half, and then the thunder, announcing the arrival of the pinnacle of the storm drowned out the noise of the wind and the rain with an eruption that rattled through the stone around them, shaking the cave and boring into their bones as the sky roared its rage directly over them. Trees groaned and bent, leaves were tossed in a fit of rage against an outcropping outside, and the air felt thick with metal and ozone and the cataclysmic release of anger from the world outside.
Cronic wrapped his wing a little tighter around the coyote in his grasp, an instinctive little squeeze to keep her tucked there against his side where it was safe and dry, and, assured that she was staying there, he relaxed. He rumbled softly, pleased, because here, inside the cave, where the wind and rain couldn’t reach, where no tree could fall upon him, where his scales were warm and dry, and where the storm could only growl and snarl and scream at them, he and his companion were safe, and all felt peaceful.
Cronic: Me
Fiadh:
Feral_Hedgehog
Art:
Pauline
Still, he didn’t really care about the view. His ears lifted high, summoned by the noise he thought he had heard, twisting like radar dishes towards the mouth of the cave in the hopes that he hadn’t simply dreamed the noise.. but there.. there it was again; the deep, distant burble of thunder, like a threatening snarl rumbling at the back of a dragon’s throat, nothing more than a hushed fury at this distance.
Excitement tingled through his body, burning away the remnants of tiredness as he sat and watched and listened to the stirring of the storm, the first signs that the consistent babble of rain was going to be thrown into something far more spectacular. He could feel it. There was a familiar pressure that began to grow and a rich, metallic tang that started to wash into his lungs with every deep breath he drew, growing thicker and thicker as though the air itself was beginning to shrink back in fear of the oncoming onslaught. The playfulness of the wind began to turn, whistling fiercer and fiercer, no longer toying with the curtain of rain but gathering it up in harsh gales, hurling it through the trees outside so that they began to creak and pop and their leaves began to flutter and become ripped from their branches. There was an energy that grew; powerful and violent and beautiful all the same, brewing minute upon minute, wrenching the sense of safety from the landscape and replacing it with a sense of growing urgency and yet here, tucked inside this cave, where the wind and rain couldn’t reach, where no tree could fall upon him, where his scales were warm and dry, and where the approaching storm could only growl and snarl and scream at him, all felt peaceful.
The thunder rolled again, louder this time, closer, and in the distance out of view of the cave mouth there was a small flash of bright light, far too fast to reveal the landscape below but enough to send a similar flash of adrenaline through him. It was close. A second pair of ears perked up and Cronic shifted his forelegs, loosening his grip on the little bundle of fur that was balled up there allowing a head to emerge curiously from the curve of his underside. She was a coyote, a coyote of sorts anyway; fur shaded deep mauve and white, dotted with small markings that glittered like stars fighting their way through the patches of cloud, and as she stirred to the sound of the storm too, she nuzzled her way half out of his wing and after a small glance at him, set her gaze on the world outside as well.
They watched as the rain drove harder, hurtling furiously across the front of the cave like an angry swarm of insects unable to enter, and they listened as the wind howled in violent gusts that were filled with the loud cracking of thick branches breaking. Lighting forked into view in a long blinding streak that split the sky above in half, and then the thunder, announcing the arrival of the pinnacle of the storm drowned out the noise of the wind and the rain with an eruption that rattled through the stone around them, shaking the cave and boring into their bones as the sky roared its rage directly over them. Trees groaned and bent, leaves were tossed in a fit of rage against an outcropping outside, and the air felt thick with metal and ozone and the cataclysmic release of anger from the world outside.
Cronic wrapped his wing a little tighter around the coyote in his grasp, an instinctive little squeeze to keep her tucked there against his side where it was safe and dry, and, assured that she was staying there, he relaxed. He rumbled softly, pleased, because here, inside the cave, where the wind and rain couldn’t reach, where no tree could fall upon him, where his scales were warm and dry, and where the storm could only growl and snarl and scream at them, he and his companion were safe, and all felt peaceful.
Cronic: Me
Fiadh:
Feral_HedgehogArt:
Pauline
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 2192 x 1681px
File Size 4.04 MB
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