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⋆⋆⋆ His paws carefully traipsed over stone as his sun-kissed eyes looked over the cracks in the mountain, looked at the flowers that pushed their way through brittle soil and ledges to help announce the coming of Spring. The sun had started to bleed red out into the sky as the blue swept away, turning darker and darker with every passing moment. It was one of Beowolf's favourite time of day, but lately, not even the sun and it's bleeding colours could help him feel relaxed. For his shoulders twitched and his ears were always alert, his eyes wide, and despite a false confidence that reigned him over, the male was ultimately still afraid. He was jumpy, irritable at times, but worst of all prone to little anxiety attacks here and there.
It was all because of that accident- of the humans fault, and even just vaguely thinking about it set his heart up into his throat, it's beat mad like a drummer in a marching band. At once point he had to stop, the pads on the bottom of his paws feeling and running over the cool stone beneath him. His bright copper eyes glued to the ground as he parted his jaws, to breathe in, to breathe out. No, no he wouldn't succumb to the fear, not out in the open like this. It was only then that the wolf realized he was rather exposed- and he didn't like it. Looking around at the trees, his vision seemed hazy almost, and birds cawed in the distance, unexpected, making the wolf jump. "Stop," he said to nothing in particular, wild eyed, looking over to the sun. It was bright, too bright, if he stared almost as bright as- Look away, he told himself, prying his visionaries away from the blinding light. He had to stumble back to camp, had to move- but perhaps what got him the most was when the songbirds started to sing once more, and they whistled.
Whistling.
That meant a bomb was falling. It was coming for him, he was going to die- a bomb was falling. Falling. Bright lights. Where was he? Oh God, the war was back, gun shots, grenades, flashing lights. Bombs. Death. It burned- his skin, it had burned, his fur shorted and crisp, it had smelled of burning flesh. It hurt. The blinding lights. It was falling. Falling. Falling.
Whistling.
With a loud scream the male booked it in a random direction, terrified for his life and babbling incoherently. It wasn't a pretty sight as he ran for the tree cover, cowering underneath one of them, his heartbeat far too fast and his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. His shoulders were tense, his eyes wide, claws digging into the earth- for Beowolf was in the middle of a panic attack, his breath hitched in his throat and coming out in choked wheezes. The smell of fear was thick about him, but he couldn't snap out of it, the birds were still singing, the birds were still whistling.
Whistling. [/justify]
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[abbr=Windclan Adviser ⋆ 8months ⋆ Male ⋆ Bisexual ⋆ Dating Alaska X.D. ⋆ Wolf ⋆ NPC x NPC ⋆Reincarnation of Angelbeats, ex-Shadowclan Leader ⋆ Has PTSD; Heavily Triggered by Whistling ⋆ Ages 1month per 100posts]info[/abbr] ⋆ battle ⋆ powers ⋆ #beowolfposts
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