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Knowing by Black Raven

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Story Notes:
This story contains Implied bestiality. It is none graphic but might disturb some.
She was beautiful. All sleek hair and long, powerful legs. She often came to sit out on the bluff. A lone sentinel outlined by the silver of moon as it rises. She sits silently, staring out over the waves. She always looks so solemn, so lost, so lonely. She is different. We have never seen such a one as her before; never in my life have I seen one so beautiful. She had an air about her. One of deadly grace and precision that you could usually only ever find in us, or ones like us.

The others see her, and know her by her silhouette. Paul mocks her and scorns her for her presence. Marko gazes at her in abject wonder, but is displeased. David is indifferent, though there is a respectful quiet about him when he takes in her still presence. I can not keep my gaze from filling with broken longing as I stare out over the bare, cold, lifeless expanse that separates us.

There are nights, when I am overcome with longing so devastating that it renders me mute and extinguishes the gnawing hunger that comes with each new passing of the sun. In those times I remain behind when the others go. They look at me with concern and suspicion, all knowing, none saying. I am grateful. In these times when I am alone, I often make my way up the cliffs, a muted shadow. Simply one among many. She is always waiting.

We greet each other with solemn looks of understanding and mutual respect. We sit. Each lost in our own obscure thoughts. I often ponder what she could be thinking. Did she understand? Did she know? Did she feel as I? It is impossible to know, her solemn, unwavering stare never giving, ever taking. That gaze always pierces me to my very core. Seeing all, knowing all, understanding in a way more profound than any, even my brothers.

We often sit together on the edge of the cliff, unmoving. For minutes. For hours. For days. It is always impossible to know. Sometimes we remain until the distant rumble of my brothers' bikes can be heard, their loud, joyful, yet oddly subdued howls proclaiming a successful hunt. She always slips away as I gaze over my shoulder to greet them. When I turn it as nothing more than a ghost.

There are other times, as I slip silently up the old, sea worn steps, that she does not greet me. She stands quietly, solemnly, fierce eyes seeking from the darkness of the trees. I go to her then. Stepping lightly, slowly, deliberately. I follow her, unhesitating. We are nothing more than two shadows. Sometimes we run, letting freedom and ecstasy take hold as we dance. Ever silent, we fall, to the soft, moss covered ground. We dance a primal, ageless dance beneath the ancient sky. Two dark forces warring for dominance. Two forces warring for blood. Two forces warring for peace....

The others will never understand, though they try. We are forever bonded. Brothers of the night. Mingled in blood and mind and life. They do not understand. Some bonds can never be broken. Not even ones so tainted. Not even ones so forbidden. They try. Gods they try. But for such a love as mine, none can understand. None can know. Mates. Bonds. Loves.

It was a soul deep thing. Soulless though I am. Creature though I be. She is different. She knows. She understands. She is blameless. She is perfection. She is night. She is secrets. She is soul. My soul. Dark and sleek, deadly, gentle. Forgiving. Peace. She knows me. She understands. She does not love me. Just as I covet her. We are steeped in darkness and shadows. We know no love. Only emptiness. But oh, how we dance, and forget, if only for a breaths space in time. She knows. I love her. It is forbidden. My silence, testament to my pain as I gaze at her now as she waits for me at the edge of the forest.

Her eyes pierce me. Strip me of everything. But it is alright. Her golden, feral eyes meet my own, challenge me. That is alright too. She turns, her shoulders tense to gaze unflinchingly into the dark. She does not wait. Her beauty, unmatched by any in this world as she lopes lazily into the night. Darkness. A twitch of her ear. A flick of her tail. She goes. I hesitate. But it is alright. She knows. I step into the dark, chasing freedom in the wild. In the primal. In the shadows. Chasing forgiveness. Chasing forgetfulness. Chasing peace.

....She knows.
Chapter End Notes:
I do not own or claim to own any characters or setting recognizable as belonging to the movie The Lost Boys. I make no profit from their use.
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