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View Full Version : BLANCO LOBO PARTS TWO, a circle of the hunters.



writerdog
January 6th, 2011, 04:56 AM
He flew South, sailing over the darken land toward the scent coming from far into Mexico.
Enjoying the beauty of the night and sky, when the weather was good this was one of the best parts of hunting.

Some times flying high then sailing down to just a few hundred feet above the ground.
He could do this when traveling at night since there was little if any chance of being seen as he flew.
Traveling in the daytime was a greater risk so it was done at very high attitude so high up he could barely see the details of the ground below.

He strains his nose hoping for the scent of one of his kind, hoping it would be a female.
But then the scent of Cow manure came and he rocked back to here and now.
Looking in the direction of the scent he saw there was a feed lot to the East.

Just as well he had enough of the Lorains for one night.

Back to following the scent coming of the Negro Lobos, after three hours the scent was not much closer.
This caused a bit of frustration within him; the end of this hunt would be at least tomorrow evening!
Just as well though, he was a little tired after the battle at the Lone star so he would settle down somewhere.

It is never too good to take on either of the other two after a long flight.
He would keep going for awhile though, maybe till dawn or after.
Long distances were often just times to think.
****
The urge to find a female of his kind was not a matter of being aroused.
His kind was slowly becoming extinct; he was feeling that time was creeping up on him.
One might say so; he was born in fourteen seventy.

The sense that his kind was dying out made him think more about needing to farther his genes and species. Therefore he was becoming obsessed with finding a female of his kind.
There was one aspect that his kind had that the other two did not.

His kind could breed with humans; in fact he was the result of such a coupling.
It was his mother who was the Blanco Lobo, his father a Spaniard by the name of Phillip Manuel Castro.
The Blanco Lobo was born and named Jonathan Manuel Castro, bright blue eyes and a head of coal black hair.

But still because of his own experiences he preferred his offspring would be a pure blood instead of half bloods as he had been. Half bloods did not have as many powers as the full bloods when young.

As with any competing predators, the young are sought after to eliminate the competition.
Full blood youth can escape most of the time, but half bloods require being watched after and over.
For him it was his mother, general this happens till the youth is old enough and has developed his skills enough to at least escape.

This meant that the one guarding them has a full time occupation and can not hunt.
But it is not a respite for them, this also can be a more effective means of finding and confronting the normal prey. But the “bait” is so precious that factor can lead to being a distraction.

It has happen that one would distract so another can kill the young one.
*****

He smell only the far scent from deep into Mexico that was of interest and the sun rise was beginning to peak over the horizon to the East he was beginning to think of he might find a place to settle.

There were two reasons for settling down and waiting for the night again.
He did sleep as all other creatures do; the other reason is because traveling in the daylight should be avoided if possible. Or at least flying, he could try to find another form of traveling such as a bus or train those could get him closer. And sleep while the journey would continue but better for him to settle and get a proper sleep.

The nice thing about being a Blanco Lobo is that the change only happens if need be or want to.
Unlike the Negro Lobos who are subject to the moon or the Vampires who are forever more Vampire.
He could live forever and intermingle with the humans.

Perhaps that gave him even more incentive to hunt the others; he had come to like the humans.
Much like someone who saves a baby bird from cats, he had become attached to their prey.
He did at times find humans to be somewhat dimwitted about the world they lived in.

Even though they had their legends about the werewolves and Vampires they for the most part did not believe in their existence. That was like the antelopes not believing in the Lions.
It only leads to them putting themselves into the danger of being unaware of them being prey.

Soon it would be too dangerous for him to fly that low, down enough that he could see a good place to sleep. So he looked the landscape over for an abandon building or a dense wooded area.
He preferred the building, sleeping in the woods there were reasons someone might be there.
Hunting or simply walking through the nature there really was no danger from the others in daylight.
No Werewolves or as he knew them Negro Lobos in their human form could hurt him.
And the Vampires slept in the daytime.

But still there was more safety with four walls and limited ways to enter.
There it was a large building that was showing no sign of there had been activity around it for some time.

He landed just outside of it and then peered into the darkness within.

He did not see anything or anyone of concern so he walked in.
Standing in the large room, he saw the signs this once was a manufacturing plant of some sort.
Large wooden tables and a couple of chain hoists hanging from the beams in the ceiling.
The dirt on the floor had no footprints and that was good for him.

Perhaps a restful sleep for the day, he was ready for that.

Climbing a set of stairs, there was a second floor and that was a good place to sleep.
He would be able to hear anyone entering and have the time to leave through a window.
****

The Blanco Lobo awoke about sunset having slept for all day and was ready to move on.
Standing in the fading light he smell the air, there the scent was he could tell he was a little closer then he had thought before resting.

It could be that the Nero Lobos had moved closer during the day but still it would be early in the A.M. before he would reach them.

Once the darkness had fully fallen, he look for any signs of life then not seeing anything or anyone.
He allowed his wings to unfold and he lifted into the night.
Sailing along he went back to smelling for his own kind along with staying on track for the others.

After four hours the scent of the Nero Lobos was much stronger and he knew he was close.
Off in the distance he could make out the light of a campfire then, as he grew closer the figures of four humans setting around it.
He circled over head in the darkness, looking over the four men and looking for the Negro Lobos who scent was now so strong that they must be in the bushes somewhere around the men.
He was certain that they must have been hunting the men so he decided to land and walk in to be there when the werewolves attacked.

The Blanco Lobo’s sense of smell was keener then the Negro Lobos so he could tell the difference in their scent and his own. They would dismiss his scent as simply smelling one of their own.
So being with the men would allow him to be on the ground and quicker to react.

He yelled into the camp, so he did not surprise them and asked to be welcome into the fire.
From their appearance he knew them to be Mexicans and ranging from late twenties to older forties.
They welcomed him in, almost seeming to be happy that someone else was out there with them.

He sat down on a log beside the fire and asked them what they were doing in the dark out in the middle of nowhere? They story was familiar, often in these more remote places the humans would try to settle problems themselves.

Some monsters were killing villagers and this was a hunting party for the monsters.
They seem reluctant to come right out and say what the monsters were but finally the word Lobos came out.
It is far easier for the isolated people to believe in the legends than the more urban people could.

Otherwise who would believe that they were actually hunting werewolves?
He wished he could convince them to go back home but then being out there meant they had finally had enough and was going to do something about it.
They would have built up the courage to face the darkness and the monsters; their determination would not have allowed them once they did to stop.

Then it hit him, an odd thing about these men they did not seem to be all that concerned or scared?
He had never encountered humans hunting the supernatural beings that were not!
Generally they would be jumping at every sound yet these men seemed focused and thinking.

The distant howl of a coyote did not get any attention from them, it was simply background noise and they continued to talk amongst themselves.

Blanco Lobo asked, “you say you are hunting Lobos? It was wolves that killed your people?”.

“Se, it was not just wolves but men who are wolves!”

Again the matter of fact way it was said set off an alarm in his mind.
The scene was so strong here of Negro Lobos that it was over powering.
He smelled more then one, as his nose started to hone in on the scents.

One of the men suddenly stood and said he had to pee and turn to walk into the bushes.
The others just warned him to not step on a Rattlesnake and that was the only concern they expressed.
By now Blanco Lobo’s senses were working over time trying to take in every cause.

It was the sudden intense smell of Negro Lobo directly behind him that caused him to bolt up just in time! Still its attack caused him to fall forward and just out of reach of the claws.
He made a feeble attempt to get his feet better beneath him and ready for another attack.
But then another blow stuck him across the face and it came from the opposite direction from the snarling werewolf that had just attacked him!

It was only after his senses came back from the sudden blow that he recognized the situation.
Instead of their being four men around him there were four Negro Lobos.
His mind was racing; they are not normally capable of such a planned trap!
Then an answer seems to become clearer as he noticed a difference in one of his assailants.
One had shorter ears and less slop to his forehead having several of the same characteristics of a Vampire.

Still he was plainly a werewolf or more likely part of both.

But that did not seem possible, or at least he had never encountered a mixture of both.
Things were happening so fast and there were too many he would suddenly have to contend with to take the time to do an in-depth examination of it.

All he could do was to note the closest threat and try to be prepared
He had to get enough room to lift off, was what first came to mind hoping that if they were mixed that the ability to fly was not one inherited ability. But if so, they would have to transform into a more bat like creature then werewolves. That would be a little easier to handle, though still it was four against one.

Blanco flexed the muscles to start to spread his wings and felt a sudden rush of pain as the two separate parts of the divided muscle moved. Only then did his body register the injury he had suffered from the first attack.

He had thought it was more a glancing blow but now realized that it had been enough of a contact that it had sliced into his back. It had been so long since the last time he had been injured that he had forgotten what real pain felt like.

But that would have to wait, there would be more pain to come if he let it distract him.
It was to be a ground battle and he could not forget that the attacks would be coming from any and all directions. He leaps to as far as he could to give room and just in time as two of them come leaping in.

They would be trying to get behind him; he did not have the time to depend on sight alone.
Responding to feel, he turned with a sweeping claw and contacted with the jaw of the Negro Lobo that was almost on to his back. But it was only a momentary deterrent for that one as it fell out of the way.
Bloody but not deadly hurt and it stood in place only long enough to scream into the night.
Then back to focus the rage at his enemy, drawing back to prepare to attack at the next chance.

These Lobos were not as planning as the Loren's he had fought a couple of night before were.
In a sense that made it worse, there was no real plot or plan to their attack or foreseen direction for it.
Here then there, moving without direction just moving with speed and without any motive.

One from this direction then another from that direction then the third from the side.
They fought like a pack of wild animals, which they were, but then where were the fourth?
Blanco quickly flashed his glance around, where was the forth?

He caught the image of the fourth standing away and watching.
It was the older one, the one that most look to be a mixture of Werewolf and Vampire.
He stood out of reach and seemed to be there to see how the battle was progressing.

“ A premeditated Werewolf?”, that was totally out of character for any of them!
Though they often would demonstrate cunning and thought from the human factor in them.
They never show it during a battle, the animal in them would come out and take over.
Sheer and brutal depending more on their shift and violent attacks.

But the moment thoughts had been a distraction that cost Blanco Lobo from a swift strike from the right.
His jaw was nearly knocked off and now gushing blood from a series of claw marks down the side of his face.

It proved not to be a death-dealing blow but would be a lasting one.

His only hope was to focus on any chance to kill one out right and that came when the one from the left seems to trip. A moment dip exposed the back of his neck and he managed to get it into his jaws.
The force coming to bear broke the neck and severed the spinal column.

Thankfully it was an immediate death and the body fell to the ground.
But the pain was intense from the wound he had received prior to the kill.

Now down to three against one, he glance toward the old one and he had not moved.
So Blanco Lobo dropped to all fours to be able to tense up for a leap for the one to the right.
His leap was quick enough to catch the Negro Lobo as it was starting to move forward.

With a blow from both claws he opened the chest and dug deep into the vital organs within.
A sudden grasp and jerk pulled the surprised Werewolf’s lungs and part of his heart out and sent them flying into the night.

This one simply stood in shock as if he was trying to figure out what to do next?
Then his eyes slowly rolled back into the skull and his legs melted away till the rest of the body was lowered down on the ground.

He actually more sensed the moving present’s then was aware of the older one joining the fight.
The flying body stuck him as he moved to sideslip the attack.
So both fell sideways and the older one was half on him and half off so he threw with all his might the form off him.

With speed that almost made him invisible the older was gone out of reach.
But the other Negro Lobo took the opportunity to strike; his teeth embedded deep into Blanco Lobo’s side.

His suddenly draw back ripped a slab of flesh out and bared some rib cage.
The fight has gone from losing to winning and now the outcome was once again in question?
Blanco’s blood now seemed more adrenalin then blood so the pain was not great but the loss of blood was making him feel weaker.

He rose to his feet as quick as possible though his feet and legs now felt more like crumbling stone.
By now the Negro Lobo was ready again to attack seeing weakness over taking his prey.

But with a will stronger then his abilities, the attack was interrupted by the leap of Blanco.
The two collided with a thud and teeth and claws ripped and tore at the enemy.
It was now going to depend on skill and experience as well as quickness.

No longer would it be four on one or three on one now it was totally these two in a fight to the end.
The whirling mass twisted and turns with limbs striking and a combination of both blond and dark brown fur floating into the winds.

Scarlet streaks swim in the blur passing by as the two move at the speed of lightning in their attack and counterattack. If anyone was watching that is all they could make out of the ensuing fight playing out.
But then just as sudden as the battle started, it stopped as one lay on bloody ground.

Blanco stood as best he could, but his attention was not on his now lifeless foe.
He still knew that one was left and there was no idea just where he was?
He then did something he rarely if ever did; he let out a roar into the night a challenge to fight!

Briefly off toward the south he saw the figure of the older one standing staring.
Normally a Negro Lobo would have answered the challenge and now would seem a good time to attack.
His challenger has been bloodied and massively wounded a prime chance to come in and take full advantage of the killer of his kind.

But he only stood, watching and seeming to ponder his challenger to size up the situation.
He simply turned and disappeared into the night there was something definitely different about this one!

But for now Blanco had no intention of following, he stood on staggering legs and smelled the air.
The scene faded as time passed till it was barely detectible and then too far-gone to truly smell.

Finally Blanco realized that there was no more fight to be done and with that he finally allowed his pain and weakness to overcome him. He sunk down to the ground and his alertness faded as the wage of his battle took its toll.

He was still alive which meant he would heal, but this was the worst he had been hurt for over four hundred years. So long ago that it was only a distant memory and one that he was not dwelling on now.
For now there was not even a thought of what to do now?

If his mind had been working, as it should, he would be looking to lay up where he would not be seen.
Some place safe in case of the older one deciding to return and perhaps finish him off.
Or yet another of either one of the two whom he hunted coming along and seeing a weaken hunter to kill.
That would be a prize that could not be passed over or by.

But all that was on his mind now was the pain the wrenched his body.
His is weak and tired; he lay on his back and just wanted to fall asleep.
Then the thought made its way into his brain that he had to move and get to somewhere safe.

But the attempt was met with another collapse to being flat on the ground and an intense new rush of pain. The night was fading into the raising sun to the East and his will to stay conscious was too fading.

He lapped into unconsciousness, lying in plain sight and as defenseless as when he was a child....

Johnathanrs
January 7th, 2011, 12:41 PM
Hey you quoted that this is part two. I never read part one so I have no clue on what is going on with the story. I am guessing this is a short story though. I feel you lack in thought development, of your characters. Also, you aren't descritive enough in some of your detailings. You seem to know where you are going with the story, which is good, just remember to paint a story to the reader. You are labeling "He" to much and not describing anything besides script like stuff.

I won't go into grammar, but you have a lot of mistakes I recognized and it does effect the flow of the story. So you should work on that. Feel free to re-post if you want. Tell me if you need some examples, and ill go through a part.

PMB
April 17th, 2012, 08:19 AM
Join Date May 2005Location KansasPosts 18
Instead of... He flew South, sailing over the darken land toward the scent coming from far into Mexico.
Enjoying the beauty of the night and sky, when the weather was good this was one of the best parts of hunting.

How about... He was hunting. The weather was good, and he was enjoying the beauty of the night sky as he prowled. Flying south, gliding over the darkened landscape, he was drawn by a scent, from far off.


Something like that. Just my two (s)cents.

akrathan
June 10th, 2012, 07:00 PM
I agree with PMB's jist; it seems more like a poem than prose. Perhaps concentrate on the setting more, and solid descriptions and actions.