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The Wild Dogs of Tenebrous Wold

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The Wild Dogs of Tenebrous Wold

Mars of white smearing the dark tangle of Africa’s savage heart—
Tippets light the tails of a tale: The Wild Dogs of Tenebrous Wold.
Marathoners, outrunning foes and prey, to survive another night.
Svelte and slim, piebald and delicate limbed, imbued with speed.
Elusive, an eerie reflection of their cousins, hyenas rash and brazen.
Family: For it, with it, they fought and sought, racing against death.

Those fierce Dogs garnered the attention of Ebb, the Swan of Death,
for they dwelt in the glow of his mate, Flo, bright half of his dark heart.
Flo’s favored, a pack sporting coats of grey and blue, brightly brazen
with their tippets impossibly white, a pack exiled to Tenebrous Wold.
These dogs, wilder and leaner than any before had a unicorn’s speed
they put to brutal use, slaughtering Bogeys that crept out each night.

Teeth ripping, a tidal clock ticking, their tippets blazing in the night,
massive, saucered ears a’flicker listening for the soft wings of Death.
From the Vanguard the Dogs snatched the knowledge of Dark Speed.
Dark always just ahead of light, a lethal bane to the last hopeful heart.
In exile the Wild Dogs fought to hold a lush weald, Tenebrous Wold,
sweeping, creeping across a land, a place wherein courage was brazen.

The Wild Dogs, piebald blue, took a cue from hyenas, brass and brazen,
with knowledge and nimble form those Dogs battled Bogeys by night.
In the shadows, cobalt fire shone, tippets, the Stars of Tenebrous Wold!
Life ablaze in the deepest reaches of a land famed for naught but death.
Fleet feet flew. Two pups buried deep, constellations of a pack’s heart,
heirs to a legacy born of hope, courage, and brutal need for dark speed.

Shatter aphotic black! Drive the nightmares back, light with dark speed.
Teeth rip, toes grip! Those Bogey hounds, perfect prey, cruel and brazen.
The Wild Dogs of Tenebrous Wold, hunters after Dark’s malevolent heart.
So came the Vanguard of Utter Dark, summoned to slay the pack this night,
as the tidal clock brought the gentle light of Flo to the vale of Ebb’s Death.
‘Spare them…’ Flo pleaded. But how to save the Stars of Tenebrous Wold?

Who could dare to brave the venomous dark of forsaken Tenebrous Wold?
An envoy: Star Socks Fox sent unto Blinkken and Back of lightning speed.
At Foldwood Star found Blinkken and with him bore a plea made by Death.
Blinkken called for Back the Black Sheep—Hope, a fire bright and brazen.
Astride the Stormcrest Ram, lightning piercing the veils of weighted night,
Blinkken plunged into the fray— his hope a blaze, spreading heart to heart.

The Wild Dogs, Stars of Tenebrous Wold, faced a battle vicious and brazen.
Light imbued with Dark’s speed, Flo’s plea to Ebb will be decided this night.
An envoy, a boy borne by Death’s wings to save the pack and Death’s heart.




The Speed of Dark

In coats of merled blue they patrolled Tenebrous Wold, an exiled pack,
African Wild Dogs surviving against all odds, hunting malicious prey,
Bogey Hounds of Utter Dark sweeping in, stars succumbing to black.

Among the stones, pressing the heels of the dark, eyes alight, toes tense,
Cobalt, Alpha of the Tenebrous Pack, ears a’flicker, awaiting the silence,
heralding the Dark’s hellacious hounds, monsters seeking recompense.

The last notes of cricket wings fragmented as the night wind fell still,
Utter Dark…Rising from the chasm abutting Tenebrous Wold, creeping,
Bogey Hounds, more boar than hound, armed with iron jaws and will.

The cusp of twilight, light failing beneath the speed and weight of dark.
Day shattered—Dogs in the night—Cobalt, tracking, Bogeys, the prey.
Emerging from the deep shadows, Bogey Hounds in silhouettes stark.

A faint flicker of bright—There! Right! A shape breaking at the rear!
Hallo! Away, away—The hunt was on, Bogeys’ sighting fleeing prey.
Slabbering instinct raging, Bogey away, noses scenting the air for fear.

Toes to the wold, a streak of white, unicorn bright—Blazing in the dark,
Bogeys baying, blood coursing as hearts begin to pound: Bring it down!
Muscles tense and screaming—Cobalt, waiting, watching the runner arc.

A marathoner of the Tenebrous Dogs! Sno, lead runner of Cobalt’s pack,
her paws digging into black loam, legs flexing with memory of the Wold.
Ahead, alone—Toes to the wold. Drawing the line, Bogeys at her back.

From the chasm, deep into the folds of the great Tenebrous Wold, running,
Sno, stretching out, a comet among the gathered Stars of that savage Wold.
Trust in her toes, loam trembling beneath her pads, Sno, a runner, cunning.

Drubbing, rubbing…Pebbles rolling at each jouncing bounce. Toes hold!
Pivoting hard, dipping to the right, shoulders shifting, Sno, blazing bright,
streaking from the chasm and into the heart of forsaken Tenebrous Wold.

The Bogeys safe in their knowledge: Darkness is faster than the light.
Hellhounds baying to bring down their prey—Sno leading them astray.
Onward to the steep rises of her home, Sno bounding, svelte and slight.

The pitted face of Tenebrous Wold loomed, demon of clamoring might.
Sno, baiting the Bogeys along at a speed dark could not comprehend!
Knowledge of her pups flaring bright—Those pups, her reason to fight.

A vale appearing velvet smooth in a firmament of ever deepening black,
Tenebrous Wold, its deceptive face a perfect foil for Sno’s eerie grace—
Holes to rolls, she knew them all—Sno, ears lifting, signalling her pack.

Barks, shrieked through the gloom cast by the encroaching Bogey Hounds.
It was a song, a savage and wild round, an enthralling, staggering call—
ripe with the first hints of fear for the clever Wold Dogs knew no bounds.

Sno of the Wold Dogs running for life at the speed of dark, a tenet light.
Her path, chosen with care wound o’er the steepest rises of their home,
a path warn by countless paws that held Tenebrous by tenacious might.

Sno, leading the dance, Cobalt, held the flanks, Utter Chasm to the rear,
Bogey Hounds, plunging in the heaving darkness of Tenebrous Wold.
Cobalt, moonlight tippet flashing—A signal screaming loud and clear!

Stars echoing through dense shoals of night, Wolds Dogs closing ranks!
Bogey Hounds—Fear glimmering in their eyes, tippets from the rear…
Hunters becoming the hunted—Wold Dogs emerging from both flanks.

Sno, leading the way, glancing back, Cobalt teeth and tippets flashing.
The Dogs of Tenebrous Wold, a pack running strong, true to their blue.
Toes to the Wold, tippets light the way, life and death forever clashing!

Cobalt, leading the charge, flanking hard from the left, teeth readied.
The first stragglers of the Bogey Hound pack whispering into sight,
as Sno ran, tracing the fold of the Wold, Cobalt’s pace held steady.

Tenebrous Wold a’ glimmer in tippets white, marked the line of sight,
Paws to earth, a language of lovers seldom spoken, dogs running—
Instincts of the pack warring—Put paws to flight or teeth to fight?

Cobalt didn’t give the Bogeys the chance to heed their sibilant fear,
Death at the hands of those born of light, closing at the speed of dark!
In a savage burst dogs surged, packs collided, leaders flanking rears.

Wold Dogs, teeth, steel traps sprung, snatched at filthy, flying paws.
First blood drawn, muscles rent. End o’er end, a Bogey Hound down.
Mauled, Cobalt left the demon breathing, narrowly missing its maw.

For legs, tendons coiled and stretching, the Wold Dogs were aiming.
Run them down before they had a chance to retreat and go to ground,
Cobalt’s hunters knew there was no killing a demon, only maiming.

Sno, holding her own, bound along the sheer face of the rippling wold,
drawing the line, the eyes of the Bogeys away from their pitted rift.
A wild dog, a beacon in unadulterated white, chasing the deepest fold—

The crows’ feet of Tenebrous, rolling the edges of wold in brutal mirth,
a land that laughed in the face of death, and held those damn dogs dear,
Sno the lead runner, marathoner, mother—Racing for all she was worth.

‘Cross lush decay, the Alpha of the Bogey pack, fought for a firm hold,
as Sno on toes soft and white, slowed just enough, to keep him in sight,
drawing the hellhounds ever deeper into the tangle of Tenebrous Wold.

Lungs heaving against a pace that would have left even a unicorn blown,
point hound of the Bogeys, angled right, seeking to intersect Sno’s track.
Clever Sno knew the subtle divot, pivoted, toes veering from the known.

Ethereal brightness, blighting the utter dark, Sno wheeled, coming about.
Plunging into the face of an oncoming horde, paws and courage soaring,
Sno sounded a final call. The whole of the Tenebrous Pack rushing out!

From the rifts, clinging to the rolls and dips, chasing Sno’s brittle white
to the waves of malevolent dark. Tails, a blinding hail of shooting stars,
caught up with Sno, forcing the Bogeys back into the teeth of the fight.

Wold Dogs ranks converging, in banners of Bogey Hound blood tarred.
Pincered between surging arms of the Dogs of savage Tenebrous Wold,
the Alpha of the Bogeys voiced a retreat—Utter Dark newly bestarred.

Cobalt’s liquid ebony eyes went hard, knew this battle was do or die.
Sharp barks, snapped through the seething air, urging the pack faster—
If the formation broke they could kiss the hold of Tenebrous goodbye.

Snipping bites aiming for thundering paws, Wold Dogs circling round.
Calloused pads gripping the churning quagmire of rank, bloodied loam,
as Bogey after Bogey, blowing and hamstrung, came screaming down.

Hunting hounds of hell stymied in their chase, staring fate in the face.
Wold Dogs flying by, leaving the maimed wallowing in pain and mire,
closing ranks, two wings strong—Cobalt ready to end the fierce race.

In terror Bogeys lashed out, boarish snouts thrashing, tusks slashing,
but those infernal Wold Dogs were just too damn deft for the hounds.
In the wake of that gory run, half the hell pack lay futilely thrashing.

Half not all, Cobalt knew in the true blue of his heart was not enough.
The Alpha still breathed, ran, pressing on the heels of his beloved Sno.
His flanks maintaining pace, bounding across a patch of tattered rough.

Sno, a marathoner’s rhythm beating in her pads, led the surging wings.
Massive ears sleek to her lovely head, the hounds’ Alpha in her sight.
Teeth, feral white, she skimmed between Bogeys, slicing hamstrings.

Tusks of the hounds whispered around her toes, Sno of phantom grace,
kept her eyes on the prize, a gluttonous black brute, tusks coiled tight:
The point hound of the pack, who sought to win the day at dark’s pace.

Alpha of the Bogeys, startled by the runner’s sudden change of tack,
fought not only for footing, but to ascertain his position on the wold,
but before he had time to blink, a blazing shadow landed on his back.

Sno, her coat insanely bright, gambling with all she had that night,
pitched herself over the heads of the panicking hounds at her prey.
Calloused pads connected with mange ravaged hide, gripped tight.

Beyond the range of his snipping tusks, her teeth sank in, held true.
Rearing, agony roaring, the beast cast the slight weight of Sno high.
Flesh gave on a sickening twist, Sno swallowed by a sea merle blue.

Point hound, hocks hemorrhaging fresh torrents of gore, downed—
Sno, a sash of bloody honor streaked across her glowing white coat,
came about, scrambling to restart the charge, to reclaim lost ground.

Wings and flanks merged, dividing the remnants of the Bogeys’ ranks.
Trapped, no way out, Bogeys, terrified fought, sought to come about,
but the Wold Dogs of Tenebrous had encircled them, wings to flanks.

Pack to pack, nose to snout, victory at the speed of dark, hope shone—
Tenet lights in the bright tail tippets of those damned wily Wold Dogs.
Light with the speed of dark, a secret the Dogs should not have known.

Once more riding the cusp of the realms, night cleaving to dawn’s light,
the Wold Dogs of Tenebrous brought the last few Bogey Hounds down.
All traces of the hellhounds scorched to ash beneath the gathering bright.

Cobalt, pride in his pack, a feat worthy of their heritage, a race run true.
Sno, weary to her bones, a bright shadow in the morning light, retired,
to her quiet fold, the den that hide her pups, Blu and her brother, Rue.

Warm pups snuggled in behind her ears, putting to rest her dark fears.
All was as it should, not all as it seemed—Light at the speed of dark…
A countdown started with the dawn—Dogs with only hours, not years.



The Gold and Blue and the Impetigo

Beyond the Pond wherein the fabled Tidal Turtles dwell,
great dunes of sand abut the shore, a shifted, golden swell.
And it is here they abide, kin of the frumious Wold Pack,
Wild Dogs of Tenebrous Dunes, blue hearts fighting back.

Longer limbed, saucer-earred—savage dogs utterly feared,
they too move at the Speed of Dark, a power hope revered.
Cloaked in dense pelts of molten gold and midnight’s hue,
these dogs, least known of the Packs—the Gold and Blue.

Hunters of frightsome might, these dogs knew how to fight—
the Dune Pack, their killer canines flashing lightning bright.
The Tenebrous Pack held the Wold, but the Gold and Blue,
they fought to save the wishes within precious desert dew.

Massive paws, webbed and wide, flew o’er the desert’s tide,
the Gold and Blue sought out the mires where Impetigo hide.
Impetigo? Unknown but to those who hear a Manticore sing,
a beastly thing that should not be. Impetigo, a foulsome king.

Canines, lightning’s strike, the blade the Gold and Blue wield,
are the only weapon that can pierce a dreaded Impetigo shield.
An Impetigo, a hellish demon, spawn of the Manticore’s song—
born of the Wendigo’s greed, a crime of nature, utterly wrong.

Antlered and maned with a grin that maims, monster untamed,
such was the heresy of an Impetigo—abomination proclaimed.
They delve through upsidein and downsideout, rips in the dune.
By way of these byways Impetigo slew the Mockingbird’s tune.

Aphotic speed marked by tippets of moonbright—dogs patrol,
hunters of spawn, Gold and Blues’ mission—damage control.
Teeth bared, striped legs reach long and strong—Toes touch,
Mutters of death bound into danger that for most is too much.

Be wise, heed the warning of Mockingbird’s forsaken words:
Do not wander, nor cede to the desert’s whispered song;
for the source once dealt innocence a grievous wrong.
Only Gold and Blue can avenge the fallen Mockingbird.

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