Untitled scrawlings.



“What the hell happened to it?!” exclaimed the startled girl, frozen in her tracks. She was staring blankly at the pitiful figure before her.

The poor thing she was staring at looked like it had just come from a storm… inside of Horntail’s stomach. Its fur was so matted and caked with mud, the original color was undeterminable. The heap of fur was slightly moving; one could hardly tell it was still alive. The only way the head could be told from the tail was the open muzzle, carelessly left agape with a pool of saliva already forming. The animal was easily determined sick – no healthy animal had yellow liquid dripping from the eyes.

“I don’t know…,” sighed another person. The man knelt down next to the sickly creature and laid a hand on it, balling it around some hair. He removed said hand, and with it, an entire handful of the creature’s overcoat. Even the undercoat, a usual soft and protective layer of hair, was disgustingly dirty and coarse. “I found him a little while ago and came straight here…”

The girl held back a gag. “… as a vet, I can’t refuse… to help an animal…” She turned and walked into a back room. A minute or two later, she returned with a stretcher and another person. It was another woman, but she was taller and slightly more muscular than the vet.

“Alright. One, two, heft!” said the two together, lifting the creature onto the stretcher. In its wake was a trail of hair and puddles of liquids. As the two women were picking up the stretcher, the taller one smiled to the man who brought in the animal. “We’ll, uh… we’ll try our best, sir,” she said with a nod. And, with that, the two lifted the animal into the back room.

That left the man alone in the lobby of the veterinary clinic. He sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. The soft silence that filled the room was unnerving for him. He hated silence. After what he had experienced, silence was a greeting for danger.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as bountiful now as it was so long ago, but the fiery red still lasted. He smiled and leaned back to wait. After all, he had nothing better to do.

It was another day of a retired life. All the skills this man had ever learned were no longer needed for society… his last job was a good twenty years ago, back when he was just a teen.

His past work had paid for the rest of his life. In such, he could afford to simply walk along a newly restored path and watch the flowers bud. He would spend his days outside, watching the skies, wishing to see those people again who he had known.

Not all days were so great, however. With new societies came new problems, and every once in a while, he would have to “open up a can of whoop ass” on a thief or other wrongdoer.

However, not all problems could be solved by fighting.

“Ah,” he sighed to himself, strolling down a newly wooded path. He looked to his left, resting half-focused eyes on a babbling brook, running swift and strong. His mind’s eye flashed to a time when that area was barren soil, void of life because of what his people caused.

The man shuddered. He blinked, and the flashback was gone. However, his idle staring was soon interrupted when he tensed. Something was on the other side of the brook. It was shaking and whining pitifully.

He made his way to the sack of skin, grimacing when he came close enough to be hit with a wall of stench. He held his nose to check out what the hell this thing was.

“My god,” he said softly, “we need to get you help…”


“Hum? Oh, yes, yeah?” he was startled, awoken from his daydream.

“The animal you found was a dog. She’s in critical condition, and we’ve determined that she’s been starved and possibly beaten. You don’t own her… do you?”

“Heavens no. The only animal I’ve ever owned is long gone.”

“Alright, then. I’m going to need your information. What’s your name?”

The man smiled. “Aster. My name is Aster.”

Oh no. What was that?

If you don’t get it, you didn’t read my last story very well.

I’m planning on rolling out what happened in the last chapters that I never wrote throughout this story. You’ll see.

Thanks for reading, to the, like, two of you that will.

As always… Happy Mapling. :3

9 thoughts on “Untitled scrawlings.”

  1. OMGWTHBBQ!? Took you long enough to appear again! >O


  2. Froggy, begging for likes is as hopeless as begging for wolfrog babies. D:

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