Where Is My Mind?
Nov 21, 2013 13:12:32 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Nov 21, 2013 13:12:32 GMT -6
He could see his breath in front of him.
Not that he was necessarily surprised by this. It was nearing winter and climbing toward the mountains. It was highly logical and even expected that he could see he breath in front of him. But the part of him that made note of this did so for pure and innocent nostalgia. The neurons fired and the connections were made as he fondly remembered trying his best to keep up with his Grandfather on one of their hikes. The rule was keep up or get left behind. Despite this the old man always waited for him just around the corner with a smile and a shout to hurry up. And Lang, in return would always run ahead of him at this point. He would exclaim boldly things like "Look at me, I'm a dragon!" or something to that sentiment. Then the old man would chuckle and urge him higher into the mountains.
But the reason why he was deep into the the wild was not out of nostalgia but need. The need to reconnect. To feel something besides the shallow and fleeting or the seething bubbling pool of red that stirred inside him. He was detached and a mess. He didn't have anyone he could talk to about it either. It's not hes called his Mom lately. His Grandfather was long gone at this point. He just didn't trust any of the Titans enough to talk to them. His father wasn't even an option in his mind.
What he did have was himself and meditation. That and the shear stubbornness to keep going as blisters started to appear on his soft human feet.
Lang had asked around to those in the know, and rumor was that somewhere in these mountains at a holy spot. A spot close to the spirit world. That was his destination and he had spent the better of the morning searching for it.
If lang had been asked, he wasn't quite sure he's call himself religious. He did have beliefs. He believed in the after life and spirits. It was hard not to with what all he's seen. He believed in reincarnation and a higher power. He believed in a grand oversoul of a God that was unknowable but generally benevolent. He believed in respect for yourself, others, and your environment even if he didn't do the best with upholding that.
He also believed that some form of dharmic punishment existed in the universe, balancing the scales. It was only a matter of time before he got his.
----------------------
It was mid-afternoon by the time Lang found the sacred piece of earth. There was no question about the spot when he stood upon it. To they eyes it was awesome in the true sense of the word. The trees towered to where they seemed to narrow into points if you looked up, providing a canopy over a dark pool whose depths were unknown.There was a humming a tranquil power in the air, the type that made goosebumps stand on the skin and you inhale like a child peaking into the Grand Canyon.
Collapsing on a rock, Lang sighed. He still had a lot of work to do. With a tanned hand he pushed his long black hair from his eyes. The day had warmed up a bit now that the sun was high in the air but as he stared at the water he gave a tired sigh. That would still chill him to the bone.
"No point in putting it off." The tired-eye boy said with a deep sigh. He groaned like a man past his age as he pushed himself back up on his feet.He knees shook a bit as he steadied himself a bit. He tossed his bag to the side with a "Krupmf", crunching the dry and colorful leaves under it in an uncerimoniour roll. The insides of the bag were filled with camping gear. A sleeping bag, a compass, food, matches. None of which he needed now. In fact, he didn't even need the clothes on his body.
The highly logical part of his brain that usually would be too busy telling him this was stupid and he would get hypothermia was currently too busy thumbing over the fact that anthropologically speaking, he was doing this as a sign of humility, heavily rolled into the symbolism of death and birth. It entertained him a bit. Not enough to completely numb the cold but enough to keep him going. Besides, the cold was doing a good enough to numb his fingers.
He tossed his shirt to the side next to the bag. It was quickly joined by his pants and the rest of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but a his goosebumped skin, marked by thin and still healing cuts. His vision clouded from his breaths steam briefly from his deep calming breathes he took to clear his mind. Easier said than done when it raced constantly with a thousand ideas and possibilities at all times. The wolf souled boy took slow and deliberate steps into the water. It was colder than he estimated. The shock making inhale sharply as what felt like frozen daggers dug in. The smoothed rocks wobbled under he stride. About one-third of the way to the waterfall the footing dropped off into an inky depths. It wasn't easy to swim. It wasn't like he was Atlantian or anything, but he could do more than doggy paddle.
It was a fight to pull himself on to the grey rocks under the waterfall. The liquid mist and air bit at him and the roaring falls pounded like stones into him. His long hair clinging to his flesh but pushed this way and that bey the erratic drops. With a tired effort he pulled himself into a full lotus position and layered his hands on top of each other. His hard nails digging into each other as he thumbs met.
He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. The pounding water left him alone with his thoughts, drowning everything else out. It was hard to think of much but how cold it was in he meditative perch. But the shiver inducing cold made it a little bit easier to do what he came here to do. Lang pushed the cold from his mind. He pushed it into a tight little ball. He pushed it into a ball with his anger, his hate, and his despair. In his mind he could see it. A small round ball of grey and black lumpy and swirling he willed and concentrated into being a tighter and tighter ball. His ribs stung at each deep inhale he took, but he kept all of his thoughts on that ball. He willed and imagined it slowly rising to the surface of his skin to be washed away by the cascade. From there is would flow back to the earth and be purified.
Lang could do more than see it in his minds eye. He could feel it. The chip on his shoulder was being wielded. He repeated this process until he felt drained and slightly lighter. He was clean, purified and ready for the next step. This time he didn't swim through the water, instead opting to hopscotch and scale on rocks to get back to shore.
He didn't bother to toss back on his clothes as he dug for something in his bag. Sure, it would have warmed him up tremendously but it would have been pointless. He would just need to get naked again, for symbolism. It was a ritual and there were rules he had to follow.
One of which was that he had to dig his own grave. In an internal sigh he pulled out a heavy but collapsible iron shovel that he picked up at an army surplus store, thanking the earth and sky there was nothing about doing it by hand. Not that would have surprised him. More than once he had read something that seemed highly improbable, double so in the modern world. Even with e-bay. But digging a grave? He could do that. Even if he had to fight through the muck, the rocks, and the roots.
Sweat clung to his chest the deeper down he dug. The work itself was rather boring but the young wolf boy never really was one for manual labor. Passing the time he sang what he could remember from a Pixies song. The dirty piled higher as the time passed. The only breaks he took from the digging were to toss a rock out from the deepening hole.
by the time he was satisfied the hole stretched over his head by a few inches in an awkward and jagged circle. There was enough room however to lay out flat and then some. The sun was setting and the cold was quickly returning with it. Dragging himself halfway out of the hole he tugged a large blanker over the hole, using the rocks he dug up to fasten down the corners over the hole.
The dark hole felt extremely claustrophobic and endlessly fast in his imagination. He couldn't see his hand an inch from his face if he tried. Which he did, several times to confirm the fact. But other than that there was nothing only him and his thoughts within the hole. But at least it was warm.
It was uneventful for the first few hours. His mind went over for the at least twelfth time how this practice was very similar to shamanic practices all over the world. Journeys into the dark and unknown through symbolic deaths were quite common. Even Odysseus traveled deep into a cave to learn answers from something beyond the normal. Even when his normal included peeving off a god of the ocean. And at the end it was tied up neatly with some idea of rebirth. The question would be what happened in between the two.
At first, the only other thing Lang could hear was himself. But as time wore on, the lack of his sight sharpened his other sense. Outside of his hole he could hear the rustling and soft foot falls of the unseen creature on their nightly escapades. In the insides he could hear crawling and chattering of small insects. Most likely beetles and worms. His nose smelled his own sweat and the moist clay dirt he was buried in. He could taste it in the air.
And then, suddenly and abruptly, it was all gone.
No sight.
No sound.
No taste.
No touch.
No smells.
The world had disappeared around him. Only for a second but it was a long enough to steal the breath from his lungs. His breathing returned to normal as a glowing shape started to form in front of him in a coiling and swirling mist. As it consolidated what shocked him the most was not the fact that something had appeared in an improbably location in the dark umbra, but what appeared.
What swirled in front of him was himself. Not a mirror image, but his wolf form of midnight blue and snow white. His own black claws scratching lazily behind his ears. The two sat in silence for at least twenty minutes before Wolf-Lang cleared his throat. "You gonna stare all night or are you actually going to ask things?" the lupine version of himself asked.
"I'm still trying to decide if you're real or something masquerading as me. First time reaching into the spirit world and all." The fleshed Lang snorted dismissively. "I will admit, I expected a bit more out of it. Black and more black is anti-climatic."
"I am you... in a way. A part of you given shape by the residual spiritual energy you would expect in the near realm of spirit and your own thoughts. NEAR realm, meaning it's not like you reached into the Valhalla or the fields of Asphodel. It is a first try after all." the wolf states, giving a small and simple shrug of his shoulders. "Not that you're likely to believe me." he said with a tired yawn. "But that's the problem isn't it?"
Lang narrowed his eyes and gaves a scuffing scowl. "What that's supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't trust people. Still. Even after Death herself came down to tell you that you needed too." The wolf man said with an equally badger-like scowl.
"I don't think that's any of your business." Lang replied to the wolf sharply.
"I'm you. It's by definition my business. Plus you know, there is that whole self-reflection thing in your personal medicine. Blue heron ring any bells?" the wolf retorted with a rub at his temple.
"I don't have trust issues!" he shouted. his voice edging into a feral growl and his fist clinching until his knuckles were white.
"Really? Instead of talking to one of the Titans or... god forbid, a professionally trained psychologist, what you did was hike off-trail, get naked, risk hypothermia, and dive head first into the spirit world unarmed. No, you make great decisions and obviously have no issues." The wolf snarled back, showing his white fangs.
"I-" the brown eyed boy started in protest. His features softened though he still gritted his teeth together. "I concede your point. Though I stand by my decision." he said, hastily adding in the last part.
"Whatever. Just do it. Trust people. The right people." the wolf replied. "If you would have done that chances are you wouldn't have killed a man. Or at least it would have been less likely."
"We're not talking about that." Lang stated firmly, crossing his arms in front if him.
"We are. You did all this to do it, you can't wuss out now. I won't let you." the wolf said, mimicking his stubborn cross-armed pose.
"Sky and stone I'm stubborn." The more human one grumbled, letting out a puffed sigh. "Fine. We'll talk." Lang said. "A bit."
"Cool." The golden-eyes one said. "Let's talk about that night in detail." he growls. "Walk through it."
"If you're really who you say you are then you'd know exactly what happened." Lang scoffed, puffing the hair out from his eyes. The darkness feeling warm enough that his skin was starting to feel sticky.
"Entertain me." the lycanthropic entity said with a raise of his brow from under his fingers.
"It was Seattle." Lang began. "I had been on a case for the better part of a month. There was in-explainable rash of cerebral edemas. I wasn't the only ones though. A few other in my realm of...the world I guess were there as well. We compared notes and collaborated. We eventually found the man behind it. He was using the Space Needle as a sort of magical conduit, Something about the air being connected to the mind. He, Frank Alvin, was striking down people for personal gain." he continued steadily before stammering just a bit. "But when it came time to confront Mr.Alvin I went by myself." he said shoving though this. His fingers digging under his own nails to clean out the dirt and dead skin.
"Stop." The more wolf-like one said, making Lang respond with a muttered curse. "Why did you go by yourself?"
Lang grumbled and narrowed his eyes. "I guess...I guess I thought it was my responsibility alone. Or I wanted to prove I was capable or something. I'm not entirely sure."
"So pride." the Ghostdance spoke back at him, keeping his eyes locked on the confessor.
"Sure. Pride..." Lang said. His cheeks getting a bit red in frustration.
"Keep going" the wolf said, leaning back on an invisible surface.
"I tried to talk him down. Get him to stop and turn himself in. One of the others has police connections n' stuff. He could get the charges to stick. There was motive." Lang said. His account getting more trembling with each word. "He wouldn't back down. He threatened myself and others. So I punched him. I punched him harder than I should have. I thought he'd zigged when he zagged." Lang's Adam's Apple bobbed as he tried to force his dry throat to swallow. "A-and he flew off the edge. I tried to stop it. I tried to save him. But I couldn't. I hesitated. If I would have been a second faster..."
"Then what?" The wolf inquired.
"Then I would have saved him." Lang concluded. Lang gave a shuddering inhale. The tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I wouldn't have seen him plummet to his death."
"Are you sure?" The wolf asked plain and without emotion.
"What?" Lang asked through his tears, not quite believing his ears.
"Are you sure you would have saved the man?" the Wolf said.
"I-I guess not. I mean I can't know about what didn't happen. Not logically." Lang said, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
"Then why are you holding yourself to that standard? That in itself doesn't seem very logical." Ghostdance spoke.
"Are you saying it's not my fault?" Lang asked in disbelief.
"No. At the end of the day we both know it was. You threw that punch." The shaggy furred canine spoke firmly. "What I'm saying is that you need to remember that it was an accident. Maybe you can start with that whole trusting other people things with trusting yourself. Then move on from there by not living in the 'maybe's and 'what if's. I'm going to make this short. Time is running out and we never were ones for sugar-coating. You made a mistake, learn from it, accept the consequences that come along with it with grace. Do your best to prevent it in the future."
Lang drew his knees up to his chest and shuddered. "How am I supposed to just accept it?"
The wolf flicked Lang's forehead "Time. Well, that and people that care about and trust you. You can do that can't you?" The wolf says with a huff, surprising Lang at that very much solid thump against his skull. "We need people. You don't need to carry everything by yourself. Plus it wouldn't hurt to have someone there to tell you that all those dark thoughts you, and by extension we, think about yourself aren't true." The wolf said as he stood.
"Now you got work to do solider. Get to it." he said with a bit of a wave, walking back into the darkness.
--------------
A wild turkey gobbled and called out, jolting Lang back to reality. Dawn was on the horizon and the fog rolled down off the mountain. Lang hurriedly tossed on a second change of clothes that were ice cold from being left out to night. He pulled out his mp3 player and untangled his headphones with fumbling hands before making his way back down the mountain. He felt exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. But it felt good, like a lead coat was tossed on the ground. Probably not as good as a nap and some soup would though.
Not that he was necessarily surprised by this. It was nearing winter and climbing toward the mountains. It was highly logical and even expected that he could see he breath in front of him. But the part of him that made note of this did so for pure and innocent nostalgia. The neurons fired and the connections were made as he fondly remembered trying his best to keep up with his Grandfather on one of their hikes. The rule was keep up or get left behind. Despite this the old man always waited for him just around the corner with a smile and a shout to hurry up. And Lang, in return would always run ahead of him at this point. He would exclaim boldly things like "Look at me, I'm a dragon!" or something to that sentiment. Then the old man would chuckle and urge him higher into the mountains.
But the reason why he was deep into the the wild was not out of nostalgia but need. The need to reconnect. To feel something besides the shallow and fleeting or the seething bubbling pool of red that stirred inside him. He was detached and a mess. He didn't have anyone he could talk to about it either. It's not hes called his Mom lately. His Grandfather was long gone at this point. He just didn't trust any of the Titans enough to talk to them. His father wasn't even an option in his mind.
What he did have was himself and meditation. That and the shear stubbornness to keep going as blisters started to appear on his soft human feet.
Lang had asked around to those in the know, and rumor was that somewhere in these mountains at a holy spot. A spot close to the spirit world. That was his destination and he had spent the better of the morning searching for it.
If lang had been asked, he wasn't quite sure he's call himself religious. He did have beliefs. He believed in the after life and spirits. It was hard not to with what all he's seen. He believed in reincarnation and a higher power. He believed in a grand oversoul of a God that was unknowable but generally benevolent. He believed in respect for yourself, others, and your environment even if he didn't do the best with upholding that.
He also believed that some form of dharmic punishment existed in the universe, balancing the scales. It was only a matter of time before he got his.
----------------------
It was mid-afternoon by the time Lang found the sacred piece of earth. There was no question about the spot when he stood upon it. To they eyes it was awesome in the true sense of the word. The trees towered to where they seemed to narrow into points if you looked up, providing a canopy over a dark pool whose depths were unknown.There was a humming a tranquil power in the air, the type that made goosebumps stand on the skin and you inhale like a child peaking into the Grand Canyon.
Collapsing on a rock, Lang sighed. He still had a lot of work to do. With a tanned hand he pushed his long black hair from his eyes. The day had warmed up a bit now that the sun was high in the air but as he stared at the water he gave a tired sigh. That would still chill him to the bone.
"No point in putting it off." The tired-eye boy said with a deep sigh. He groaned like a man past his age as he pushed himself back up on his feet.He knees shook a bit as he steadied himself a bit. He tossed his bag to the side with a "Krupmf", crunching the dry and colorful leaves under it in an uncerimoniour roll. The insides of the bag were filled with camping gear. A sleeping bag, a compass, food, matches. None of which he needed now. In fact, he didn't even need the clothes on his body.
The highly logical part of his brain that usually would be too busy telling him this was stupid and he would get hypothermia was currently too busy thumbing over the fact that anthropologically speaking, he was doing this as a sign of humility, heavily rolled into the symbolism of death and birth. It entertained him a bit. Not enough to completely numb the cold but enough to keep him going. Besides, the cold was doing a good enough to numb his fingers.
He tossed his shirt to the side next to the bag. It was quickly joined by his pants and the rest of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but a his goosebumped skin, marked by thin and still healing cuts. His vision clouded from his breaths steam briefly from his deep calming breathes he took to clear his mind. Easier said than done when it raced constantly with a thousand ideas and possibilities at all times. The wolf souled boy took slow and deliberate steps into the water. It was colder than he estimated. The shock making inhale sharply as what felt like frozen daggers dug in. The smoothed rocks wobbled under he stride. About one-third of the way to the waterfall the footing dropped off into an inky depths. It wasn't easy to swim. It wasn't like he was Atlantian or anything, but he could do more than doggy paddle.
It was a fight to pull himself on to the grey rocks under the waterfall. The liquid mist and air bit at him and the roaring falls pounded like stones into him. His long hair clinging to his flesh but pushed this way and that bey the erratic drops. With a tired effort he pulled himself into a full lotus position and layered his hands on top of each other. His hard nails digging into each other as he thumbs met.
He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. The pounding water left him alone with his thoughts, drowning everything else out. It was hard to think of much but how cold it was in he meditative perch. But the shiver inducing cold made it a little bit easier to do what he came here to do. Lang pushed the cold from his mind. He pushed it into a tight little ball. He pushed it into a ball with his anger, his hate, and his despair. In his mind he could see it. A small round ball of grey and black lumpy and swirling he willed and concentrated into being a tighter and tighter ball. His ribs stung at each deep inhale he took, but he kept all of his thoughts on that ball. He willed and imagined it slowly rising to the surface of his skin to be washed away by the cascade. From there is would flow back to the earth and be purified.
Lang could do more than see it in his minds eye. He could feel it. The chip on his shoulder was being wielded. He repeated this process until he felt drained and slightly lighter. He was clean, purified and ready for the next step. This time he didn't swim through the water, instead opting to hopscotch and scale on rocks to get back to shore.
He didn't bother to toss back on his clothes as he dug for something in his bag. Sure, it would have warmed him up tremendously but it would have been pointless. He would just need to get naked again, for symbolism. It was a ritual and there were rules he had to follow.
One of which was that he had to dig his own grave. In an internal sigh he pulled out a heavy but collapsible iron shovel that he picked up at an army surplus store, thanking the earth and sky there was nothing about doing it by hand. Not that would have surprised him. More than once he had read something that seemed highly improbable, double so in the modern world. Even with e-bay. But digging a grave? He could do that. Even if he had to fight through the muck, the rocks, and the roots.
Sweat clung to his chest the deeper down he dug. The work itself was rather boring but the young wolf boy never really was one for manual labor. Passing the time he sang what he could remember from a Pixies song. The dirty piled higher as the time passed. The only breaks he took from the digging were to toss a rock out from the deepening hole.
by the time he was satisfied the hole stretched over his head by a few inches in an awkward and jagged circle. There was enough room however to lay out flat and then some. The sun was setting and the cold was quickly returning with it. Dragging himself halfway out of the hole he tugged a large blanker over the hole, using the rocks he dug up to fasten down the corners over the hole.
The dark hole felt extremely claustrophobic and endlessly fast in his imagination. He couldn't see his hand an inch from his face if he tried. Which he did, several times to confirm the fact. But other than that there was nothing only him and his thoughts within the hole. But at least it was warm.
It was uneventful for the first few hours. His mind went over for the at least twelfth time how this practice was very similar to shamanic practices all over the world. Journeys into the dark and unknown through symbolic deaths were quite common. Even Odysseus traveled deep into a cave to learn answers from something beyond the normal. Even when his normal included peeving off a god of the ocean. And at the end it was tied up neatly with some idea of rebirth. The question would be what happened in between the two.
At first, the only other thing Lang could hear was himself. But as time wore on, the lack of his sight sharpened his other sense. Outside of his hole he could hear the rustling and soft foot falls of the unseen creature on their nightly escapades. In the insides he could hear crawling and chattering of small insects. Most likely beetles and worms. His nose smelled his own sweat and the moist clay dirt he was buried in. He could taste it in the air.
And then, suddenly and abruptly, it was all gone.
No sight.
No sound.
No taste.
No touch.
No smells.
The world had disappeared around him. Only for a second but it was a long enough to steal the breath from his lungs. His breathing returned to normal as a glowing shape started to form in front of him in a coiling and swirling mist. As it consolidated what shocked him the most was not the fact that something had appeared in an improbably location in the dark umbra, but what appeared.
What swirled in front of him was himself. Not a mirror image, but his wolf form of midnight blue and snow white. His own black claws scratching lazily behind his ears. The two sat in silence for at least twenty minutes before Wolf-Lang cleared his throat. "You gonna stare all night or are you actually going to ask things?" the lupine version of himself asked.
"I'm still trying to decide if you're real or something masquerading as me. First time reaching into the spirit world and all." The fleshed Lang snorted dismissively. "I will admit, I expected a bit more out of it. Black and more black is anti-climatic."
"I am you... in a way. A part of you given shape by the residual spiritual energy you would expect in the near realm of spirit and your own thoughts. NEAR realm, meaning it's not like you reached into the Valhalla or the fields of Asphodel. It is a first try after all." the wolf states, giving a small and simple shrug of his shoulders. "Not that you're likely to believe me." he said with a tired yawn. "But that's the problem isn't it?"
Lang narrowed his eyes and gaves a scuffing scowl. "What that's supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't trust people. Still. Even after Death herself came down to tell you that you needed too." The wolf man said with an equally badger-like scowl.
"I don't think that's any of your business." Lang replied to the wolf sharply.
"I'm you. It's by definition my business. Plus you know, there is that whole self-reflection thing in your personal medicine. Blue heron ring any bells?" the wolf retorted with a rub at his temple.
"I don't have trust issues!" he shouted. his voice edging into a feral growl and his fist clinching until his knuckles were white.
"Really? Instead of talking to one of the Titans or... god forbid, a professionally trained psychologist, what you did was hike off-trail, get naked, risk hypothermia, and dive head first into the spirit world unarmed. No, you make great decisions and obviously have no issues." The wolf snarled back, showing his white fangs.
"I-" the brown eyed boy started in protest. His features softened though he still gritted his teeth together. "I concede your point. Though I stand by my decision." he said, hastily adding in the last part.
"Whatever. Just do it. Trust people. The right people." the wolf replied. "If you would have done that chances are you wouldn't have killed a man. Or at least it would have been less likely."
"We're not talking about that." Lang stated firmly, crossing his arms in front if him.
"We are. You did all this to do it, you can't wuss out now. I won't let you." the wolf said, mimicking his stubborn cross-armed pose.
"Sky and stone I'm stubborn." The more human one grumbled, letting out a puffed sigh. "Fine. We'll talk." Lang said. "A bit."
"Cool." The golden-eyes one said. "Let's talk about that night in detail." he growls. "Walk through it."
"If you're really who you say you are then you'd know exactly what happened." Lang scoffed, puffing the hair out from his eyes. The darkness feeling warm enough that his skin was starting to feel sticky.
"Entertain me." the lycanthropic entity said with a raise of his brow from under his fingers.
"It was Seattle." Lang began. "I had been on a case for the better part of a month. There was in-explainable rash of cerebral edemas. I wasn't the only ones though. A few other in my realm of...the world I guess were there as well. We compared notes and collaborated. We eventually found the man behind it. He was using the Space Needle as a sort of magical conduit, Something about the air being connected to the mind. He, Frank Alvin, was striking down people for personal gain." he continued steadily before stammering just a bit. "But when it came time to confront Mr.Alvin I went by myself." he said shoving though this. His fingers digging under his own nails to clean out the dirt and dead skin.
"Stop." The more wolf-like one said, making Lang respond with a muttered curse. "Why did you go by yourself?"
Lang grumbled and narrowed his eyes. "I guess...I guess I thought it was my responsibility alone. Or I wanted to prove I was capable or something. I'm not entirely sure."
"So pride." the Ghostdance spoke back at him, keeping his eyes locked on the confessor.
"Sure. Pride..." Lang said. His cheeks getting a bit red in frustration.
"Keep going" the wolf said, leaning back on an invisible surface.
"I tried to talk him down. Get him to stop and turn himself in. One of the others has police connections n' stuff. He could get the charges to stick. There was motive." Lang said. His account getting more trembling with each word. "He wouldn't back down. He threatened myself and others. So I punched him. I punched him harder than I should have. I thought he'd zigged when he zagged." Lang's Adam's Apple bobbed as he tried to force his dry throat to swallow. "A-and he flew off the edge. I tried to stop it. I tried to save him. But I couldn't. I hesitated. If I would have been a second faster..."
"Then what?" The wolf inquired.
"Then I would have saved him." Lang concluded. Lang gave a shuddering inhale. The tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I wouldn't have seen him plummet to his death."
"Are you sure?" The wolf asked plain and without emotion.
"What?" Lang asked through his tears, not quite believing his ears.
"Are you sure you would have saved the man?" the Wolf said.
"I-I guess not. I mean I can't know about what didn't happen. Not logically." Lang said, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
"Then why are you holding yourself to that standard? That in itself doesn't seem very logical." Ghostdance spoke.
"Are you saying it's not my fault?" Lang asked in disbelief.
"No. At the end of the day we both know it was. You threw that punch." The shaggy furred canine spoke firmly. "What I'm saying is that you need to remember that it was an accident. Maybe you can start with that whole trusting other people things with trusting yourself. Then move on from there by not living in the 'maybe's and 'what if's. I'm going to make this short. Time is running out and we never were ones for sugar-coating. You made a mistake, learn from it, accept the consequences that come along with it with grace. Do your best to prevent it in the future."
Lang drew his knees up to his chest and shuddered. "How am I supposed to just accept it?"
The wolf flicked Lang's forehead "Time. Well, that and people that care about and trust you. You can do that can't you?" The wolf says with a huff, surprising Lang at that very much solid thump against his skull. "We need people. You don't need to carry everything by yourself. Plus it wouldn't hurt to have someone there to tell you that all those dark thoughts you, and by extension we, think about yourself aren't true." The wolf said as he stood.
"Now you got work to do solider. Get to it." he said with a bit of a wave, walking back into the darkness.
--------------
A wild turkey gobbled and called out, jolting Lang back to reality. Dawn was on the horizon and the fog rolled down off the mountain. Lang hurriedly tossed on a second change of clothes that were ice cold from being left out to night. He pulled out his mp3 player and untangled his headphones with fumbling hands before making his way back down the mountain. He felt exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. But it felt good, like a lead coat was tossed on the ground. Probably not as good as a nap and some soup would though.
