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ORIONPUP
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BlizzardClan was great, awesome, fantastic, whatever, all of those things. But something wasn't... right. The deep copper and white husky sunk to the ground, surrounded by an assortment of golden and red curled and crackling leaves. His thick coat protected him from the cold, but the crisp night air stung his eyes and lungs.
No one was just put on the earth, fabricated out of seemingly nowhere. That just wasn't how things worked. But that was how he felt. Everyone had memories - moments they held in their heart that made them feel something. Well, he didn't.
It was as if one day he just woke up. He was there. He existed. He found BlizzardClan. Five months of living and he couldn't recall a mother singing him to sleep, a favorite food, a best friend, a scrape or bruise, nothing. His heavy ice blue gaze sunk from the star-flecked horizon to his paws.
It just doesn't work like that.
It wasn't like he bumped his head or something, he never had a wound there. His skull never ached. As far as he was concerned, physically he was just fine. Besides, he had the present. He met new faces. He could make new memories. Did the old - had they actually ever existed - even matter?
Orion. That was his name, he knew that much. He heard himself being called it in dreams - cried out, shrieked to him, as if something bad had happened to him. But he was alive and well. It was all so strange to him. He repeated his name in his head as if it would conjure up any lost memory, and pondered his thoughts until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
--
[nightmare (kind of) of previous life as a human.]
Click, click, click. A small burning flame danced before him, reflected in his blue visionaries; like a bonfire upon a frozen arctic lake. He lifted it to the stick of poison held between his lips, a cigarette. He set the lighter down gently and it made a slight scraping sound against the concrete ledge.
"You know you shouldn't do that, Orion. But I know, you already know."
The fifteen year old nodded slowly, patting the space next to him.
"No... I can't, I'm sorry. I have to go... you know, inside. I have... business."
Yeah, that's a nice way of putting it. It's just code for doing things that you hate with strange men that you hate just so there's food on the table.
"You know, you shouldn't do that, Mom. But I know, you already know."
"Orion..." Disappointment rang in her voice. "It's not my fault that things are like this."
He furrowed his brow, fighting back the sadness that ached in his throat. Breathing out the carcinogens, he nodded again, resting his elbow on his knee and the palm of his hand under his jawline.
"Whose fault is it, then?" He put out the cigarette, smearing the ashes across the cement and watching as the embers died.
"I have to go."
--
Orion awoke with a yawn, blinking the dreamworld away.
"Dreams are exhausting sometimes." He announced, shaking the crumpled leaves from his fur. "Kind of defeats the purpose of sleeping."
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