[ P ] Free From Me

"Weep, little lion man..."

There was a burning within the boy’s soul. A yearning for something, something more. Nothing seemed to satiate him. Not teat, nor meat, nor water, nor sleep. None of it was enough. It was an overwhelming sensation for the young pup to process and he couldn’t quite put it into words. For why was it so much easier to say what he didn’t want, what didn’t please him?

Today was no different. Arran woke with the same longing ache. It displeased him so that his russet brow furrowed in displeasure. The rising summer sun would not quell the cold upon his spine. Even at such a young age he knew that the coldness came from within. Glancing to his still slumbering siblings, he swallowed distastefully. A sourness of sorts flooding his maw.

Of course, not far off was mother. She too was still asleep. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. She was admittedly more bearable this way. It was not that he did not love her because he did! Of course, he did. Yet she doted a bit too much, nagged a bit too much. She was not like father…

It was with a heavy sigh that the little lion man pushed himself upright. These predawn moments and twilight eve’s when all else was lost to dreams were his favorite. They were the only times that the world and thus his mind felt at least a little more silent. As such they were fleeting. These moments when he thought maybe, just maybe he could figure it all out. Alas, they never lasted long enough.

Arran stole away from the den, from his family. Even just a few paces into the fading twilight was better. Even just a few paw pads in the direction his father had last left from was better. So he moved away from them in several exaggerated stretches to plop belly down upon a soft patch of moist earth.

The ground upon his rotund puppy belly made him feel like he belonged. That this is where he was supposed to be. The highlands, Perth, with his mother and siblings. A lolling look over an ivory shoulder back at the darkened den entrance. Yet he felt hollow. Hollow as the den looked from his new perspective.

Russet crown now turned back proper to lay upon his extended forelegs, emerald eyes trailing skyward to the slowly fading stars. He couldn’t help but wonder what father was up to. If he too was looking at the constellations or if he was far too busy patrolling or fighting!

That yawning gape within grew deeper and Arran longed for the day in which he could go with his father. He had promised after all. Even more so, the little lion man grasped at the idea of maturity. Perhaps more so what that meant. Freedom.

The word acted like kindling to the flame inside until he could no longer contain the raging conflagration. Arran rose from the cold ground, black nares twitching, sampling what the summer wind brought with it. Freedom.

It was without even a glance behind him that boy began to amble away from home. Something was calling to him and he had no choice but to answer. Something beckoned him to come. Something told the little lion man to look. Something that tasted familiar upon his tongue. Something called freedom.

table by rae - image by ashon

@Orlaith @Gwydion