ORIGIN

FFFFssss...sss...sssss

_{no matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave}It did nothing. It did nothing. He felt the static run along his fur and he tasted the metal but there was no zap. There was no nothing. The dog let go of his ear and suddenly there was a noise so loud that Fisher jolted, nearly knocking into the barkenemy as he pressed into the back wall, paw over ears, squealing in pain. It hurt so much, it hurt so much! He felt the crimson liquid in his paw on the ear where Maj had bit him and he knew everything was going to hell.
_{no matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn't breathe}
How-- how?! Fisher thought he would be able to handle a fight, he had recovered from his pup injuries and he had practiced. The scream stopped and he fell back to his paws, nausea and dizziness buzzing through him. He just wanted to call time out, but suddenly the weight of the wolf hit him and his shoulder slammed into the earth. The wind was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. For a moment, as the earth rang like a shrill, high pitched whistle, Fisher thought he was going to die. That the wolf was going to kill him like a piece of prey; like the barkfriend who only wanted to be friends with the yeti.
_{no matter how many nights that you lie wide awake to the sound of poison rain}
But Fisher could not die. He wouldn't let himself die! He stopped feeling anger in that moment, and even his fear left him. Just instinct guided the mustelid as he drew back his lips and let out a hiss. As the rest of the air left his lungs, he felt detached. He was above the fight, just for that brief second. He was in the air, the static that began to gather against the ceiling, a growing storm. He didn't want to hurt anyone anymore, but he would not lay down and die. Not today. It wasn't his time.
<sub>Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go?

as days go by, the night's on fire</sub>

The mustelid was distantly aware of the weight on his chest. He had two options: Fight or Die. He was going to die if he didn't strike back. The King of Bones and Shadows had come to kill him, to take him. He had turned the shadows-- barkfriends-- against him. It was unfair, but... If just one half of him could survive, live to fight another day... He just had to find the star, yes? The star. The eye of the storm.
_{tell me would you kill to save a life? tell me would you kill to prove you're right?}
The roof of the tunnel crackled with electric energy. He just had to hit. And Fisher didn't care to aim. He wasn't about to try and hit with just one bolt-- he couldn't hear, see, breathe. No. No, Fisher was going to direct all of the lightning he could muster straight down. If it hit him, so what? He knew that the King of Shadows-- the Birds-- The King of Bones had to be scared of storms. Of the sky. Of light in the sky. Stars. The starlight.
_{crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane's chasing us all underground}
He would rain the thunder down upon them all.
_{do you really want... do you really want me?
do you really want me dead.. or alive to torture for my sins?}

Oh, how the mighty fall. He heard their screams-- or was that his own-- as the lightning came to claim them all, to swallow them all. Their lives were forfeit before the energy that tore through and absorbed the room. Through it all, Fisher could hear just the faintest noise, like crackling a knuckle or popping a spine, in his neck... Or was it behind his neck? The pain ran through his skin and although he thought, perhaps, that he would never stop feeling the horrible agony, a switch seemed to flick in the mustelid's mind. Though he didn't know the word for it, the noodle had gone into shock.

You are... Banished.

It wasn't until the wolf's harsh words brought him out of the world of white-- or was it black-- that filled his vision and overwhelmed his senses, that Fisher started to figure out what had happened. He hadn't died, at least, he thought he hadn't. The floor didn't feel hot to his senses, his nerves shot and his limbs barely obeying him. He stumbled to his paws, the world a dizzy dance before him.

Banished.

Fisher didn't know the word. Yet he felt it, as he stumbled, and eventually found himself crawling, down the tunnel that burned and scorched his fur.

Banished.

It was too much, too far. The mustelid passed out-- but at least the barkenemy had already fled. It would be hours before he would find his way out of the cavern, if he ever did. He was shot, everything too much for his small, frail body to take.

Banished.

All this for a pile of stones.

Wasn't that how it always was?