Studded Platform Boots
This is an experimental piece of a sort of common project that we want to do and I Maky. It may not go much with the general tone of the blog, but hey, it featured a story and to see what you think. Greetings. Ixactzin ran through the dense jungle as best they could. He had always been quite agile and elusive, but his condition was not the best to deal with what was facing. If I even look for problems, a simple game has gotten into the mess of trying out. An arrow had pierced poaching and now its left wing could not fly away, I could only run, run toward the mountains at home. The blood that came bubbling rhythmic in its path, and perspiration given off from every pore of his body, covered his body and feathers stuck to his skin smooth. His pulse beat steadily temples marking the rhythm of your heart, overwhelmed and accelerated. He knew that his pursuers, but had not had time to stop and see who, how and from where. Just listening to the wheeze of those dirty fucking Coatl in the brush, some occasional buzzing and crackling bolt some metal weapons and armor. His footsteps were deep at the noise and mess of branches, roots, leaves and mud was the floor of that jungle. I did not know how many chasing him, but knew they would if they caught him in enemy territory. The Coatl and friends have been enemies since before he was born, since before his family was born. Since I was young, he instilled the beliefs and traditions of its people. Both peoples lived together since the Creation, the Coatl protected them from any enemy that might attack them from the ground and protected them from the clouds, in peace and harmony but war and hatred at a time. Were protected for convenience, but everyone knew that the hatred of other people was mutual. "Never approach the territory Coatl, like the Coatl not come to our mountains," he constantly repeated their guardians. Although it had signed a pact from which a mutually protected, they said that would break the territorial restriction of death . . . but I always was curious about those who contemptuously called 'brothers'. He recalled how he got into this mess: One afternoon decided to escape from their daily obligations and fly over the vast forest that lay at the foot of the mountains where he lived with the hope to finally see some of those creatures of the teachings. His family was of high degree, which enabled them to gain a cave and comfortably decorated and furnished, besides, his father and older brother built a wooden platform, a precious commodity in those heights, which served as a receiver their home. He left the cave with only the clothes: leather boots, a studded leather overalls and trousers worn fabric. Forward to the mountain flew down the hill. From a distance I saw a treeless and uninhabited area by both peoples, come to that point, mount up higher flight and would travel a few hundred meters in depth in that jungle if the capricious fortune allowed him to see those creatures. But nothing went as planned. When he had arrived in the area uninhabited and was preparing to take flight, an arrow pierced his left wing and made him lose some altitude, the speed at which he could not stop, even swerving, and even less with an injured wing. He decided to rotate as it could to make his way home again. Which would explain to his father? Had no idea that guards or watchmen on the borders of both countries, how would you say that escaped from its obligations to gossip and had become injured? These were their main concerns when flying over the jungle back to his home heard again that sound just met: the hum of an arrow. He had not been reached, but if I had seen the arrow pass near him. The plot thickens. When he looked down, he thought he saw a small shadow slip through the glasses, furtive movements of the foliage here and there. Would those famous enemies and neighbors? Suddenly he heard the whistle of arrows several more, three or four have believed that they were going to him with certainty. As you have dodged a few, but the latter ran out digging in the left shoulder, destabilizing in an exaggerated way in flight. He began his descent, poor and near the tops. I feared the worst. I was afraid. He tried not to crash and when he could, stopped with his bare hands clinging to a branch and dropping to the ground. The shoulder hurt in a supernatural way, it seemed as if something is poisonous and stinging gotten in the shoulder and could not scratch. He immediately began to run towards the mountain, barely separate them a few tens of meters, perhaps forty or fifty. At last he saw his neighbors! Three of them came forward to stand between him and his destiny. It was strange feeling he had when he watched the end, were not at all what he expected, were not even supposed similarities between them being the same people. They all looked straight wielding weapons and shields. They had scaly skin and shiny, had no nose or ears or lips or eyebrows, rather than hands or feet were something like claws and his silhouette was rugged and serpentine. .
