#scarletwolf

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In a constellation, the brightest star is called the alpha. I thought you meant that she's your brightest star 

When I Met The Night-Panic At The Disco// Latch-Disclosure ft Sam Smith// Agape- Bear's Den// Can I Stay - Ray LaMontagne// The Violet Hour- Sea Wolf// Don't Swallow The Cap- The National// Soldier-Ingrid Michaelson// 10am Gare Du Nord - Keaton Henson// Stolen - Dashboard Confessional// Winning- Emily Haines// Make it to Me-Sam Smith

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she's my alpha

The night was clear, the moon was full. It was like any other night on the Savannah. The hour chimes; midnight. Something stirs.

Months before, shifts in the earth's plates had awoken an ancient mountain, long dormant. It heaved and it roared, molten rock from the earth's core spewed forth, coating a landscape, decimating what had taken years to build. Then, there had been the ash. Great clouds of it churned and spread, blown by warm winds throughout the continent. On the horizon, it was believed to be a storm. The innocents did not know that it was something worse. Far worse.

The storm of ash swept in. The sun was blotted, the water was poisoned, the air was thick and burned lungs unfortunate enough to breathe it. Life was snuffed, effortlessly. Hundreds of lives, all taken by powers ancient and unfeeling. The earth had no understanding of empathy. The earth did not cry for its children that suffered and died. It did not tremble, did not grieve. It simply created destruction, as easily as it created life.

The ash blanketed everything. A deadly snow that muffled steps and choked the life from so many. Those who survived became gravely ill. They no longer desired to eat. They couldn't keep it down. The ash in their systems seemed to strangle everything. It hurt. The fairest off toiled to comfort those who felt the blow the hardest. In some cases, they were able to provide a light; they were able to lead their fellows through the hard times. In some cases, they couldn't.

In time, the great storm cleared. Rain flushed the ash away, renewed the land, and brought hope back to the land and territories far-flung. It was poor luck, and finally the time of destruction has passed. It was over, the ash was gone.

How little they knew.

__________________________________

The culling was a faint memory. The ash a scar that would slowly mend.

Yet, it seemed that fate deemed they were to be dealt another blow. That bloodshed, that ancient ash. Together, some insane alchemist's most vivid dream. For them, a nightmare that they wouldn't soon forget. They wouldn't be able to.

In the northernmost part of the territory, bodies lay uncovered. The shamed, the respected, carcasses both fresh and long since bleached by the glaring sun. They, like everything around them, had been blanketed by ash. They were dead. They didn't care. Yet, it infused in those decaying muscle, in what marrow remained.

And they stirred again.

One by one, under the light of the full moon, unholy light filled them once more. Hearts did not beat, they only vaguely had a recollection of being alive. Their blood did not pump, yet... they hungered.

They were violent. Violent in the way a being who is purely hunger-driven instinct is violent. There was no satisfaction in those who were already dead.

They turned their eyes to the savannah, to the promising scent of blood that was hot, of breath exhaled.

So it begins.