The One Left Behind

In one of those rare moments, I am actually very happy with how this one came out!

This picture is actually based off of a dream I had a LOOOOOONG while back! I don’t remember the details exactly, but I think it was something like this…and if it wasn’t…this one looks a lot better anyway The initial sketch actually only took about 30mins, which is FAST for me! O_o

And instead of actually explaining the pic, I wanted to write something for it! So...enjoy

*Sets up the stage for a nice, dark theme*

The One Left Behind

A night that was blanketed in the motionless dark that hovered as he walked
Not a thing could be seen nor heard but the snap of branches below his paws
And the veil of clouds covering the light of the moon they relentlessly stalked

His head lifted to gaze about the trees as the wind fluttered through their form
It was then he recalled the words spoken to him in the past
Before he ventured through the forest on this night, of which darkness is born

He remembered the stories told about this night, this night of nights
All of them the same as the one before it, nothing changed
The wind howled, and his pace hastened, adding in his hurried flight

It was on this night they said his soul went missing in this wood
Lost and forgotten he sought out the comfort that had gone on without him
And it was this spirit he hoped in all ways to avoid if he could

The clattering of claws against the ground grew frantic as he left the forest behind
Glancing back to see if the brushing of his fur was from the wind
Or if it were caused from the grieving form that he didn’t want to find

Finally he reached the hill, panting as his head lowered to rest
Eyes closing for a moment to regain his senses, hearing the wind over the hills
Unsure if he had been able to outrace the ghost, even at his best

Slowly he stood, gazing to the moon to guide him the rest of the way home
Not wanting to look back for he knew
He knew for a fact the sight of the specter would chill him to the bone

Curiosity however got the best of his worn mind
And slowly he turned, gasping at a gush of wind, and blinding light
As he came face to face with the spirit, of the one left behind…

...I like the picture...but the poem isn't as good as it sounded in my head

Image, character and story (C) to me