Fan Fiction ❯ Illusia ❯ Illusia - Her Story 7 ( Chapter 7 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Serenitychan13 
Chapter 7: A Miserable Night
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Suspense / Supernatural / Romance / Fantasy / Action / Angst / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.24.2004 | Updated On: 04.15.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 383 | Visits: 170 | Status: Completed
Chapter 7: A Miserable Night
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Suspense / Supernatural / Romance / Fantasy / Action / Angst / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.24.2004 | Updated On: 04.15.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 383 | Visits: 170 | Status: Completed
Chapter 7
Soon, the rain poured from the sky in drenching gales. My shelter was completely useless. Cold, wet, itchy, hungry and miserable, I looked again to the great fallen tree for shelter. I took a likely-looking rock that fit in the palm of my hand and began knocking bits of soft, half-rotted wood out of the center of the root system. I found that once I had a good-sized hole, I could kick through to the musty, hollow interior. It wasn’t much, but at least it was mostly dry.
With the rock I had used to get into the tree, I chipped away some of the exterior to make air holes. I saved the chips of wood in a pile. It was time to test the powers that lay dormant within me, the powers that one day Grandfather Bear would have taught me to use.
“Bear Fire!” I shouted, pointing the first two fingers of each hand at the small pile of wood chips. I felt a strange, warm sensation in my fingertips. With a strange feeling like static electricity under my fingernails, a few small sparks of fire shot at the pile. Almost the instant they touched the wood, they went out.
“BEAR FIRE!” I screamed, jabbing my fingers toward the pitiful little pile of halfway-soggy wood chips.
To my surprise, a thin stream of fire shot from the tips of my fingers. I jumped back, staring at my fingertips. In spite of myself, I began to laugh uncontrollably. “I DID IT!!”
When I ceased my hysterical laughter, I realized my pathetic little fire would need more fuel. I began to chip at the dry wood at the top of the tree with the rock and fed the chips into the fire. I was still wet, hungry, miserable and still itching, but at least I was somewhat warm. I changed my form into that of a small cat, hurriedly changed my mind because I hated being wet, and settled for the form of a scruffy-looking she-coyote. I curled up next to the fire and went to sleep smelling very strongly of wet dog and feeling more alone than I ever had in my life… I was an awful mess.
Soon, the rain poured from the sky in drenching gales. My shelter was completely useless. Cold, wet, itchy, hungry and miserable, I looked again to the great fallen tree for shelter. I took a likely-looking rock that fit in the palm of my hand and began knocking bits of soft, half-rotted wood out of the center of the root system. I found that once I had a good-sized hole, I could kick through to the musty, hollow interior. It wasn’t much, but at least it was mostly dry.
With the rock I had used to get into the tree, I chipped away some of the exterior to make air holes. I saved the chips of wood in a pile. It was time to test the powers that lay dormant within me, the powers that one day Grandfather Bear would have taught me to use.
“Bear Fire!” I shouted, pointing the first two fingers of each hand at the small pile of wood chips. I felt a strange, warm sensation in my fingertips. With a strange feeling like static electricity under my fingernails, a few small sparks of fire shot at the pile. Almost the instant they touched the wood, they went out.
“BEAR FIRE!” I screamed, jabbing my fingers toward the pitiful little pile of halfway-soggy wood chips.
To my surprise, a thin stream of fire shot from the tips of my fingers. I jumped back, staring at my fingertips. In spite of myself, I began to laugh uncontrollably. “I DID IT!!”
When I ceased my hysterical laughter, I realized my pathetic little fire would need more fuel. I began to chip at the dry wood at the top of the tree with the rock and fed the chips into the fire. I was still wet, hungry, miserable and still itching, but at least I was somewhat warm. I changed my form into that of a small cat, hurriedly changed my mind because I hated being wet, and settled for the form of a scruffy-looking she-coyote. I curled up next to the fire and went to sleep smelling very strongly of wet dog and feeling more alone than I ever had in my life… I was an awful mess.