writing_shadows

The Pure have always been my bogeyman. They loomed, invisible, in every corner. Any time I did something my father thought was unwise, the same warning would come: "You'd better watch out, or the Pure will get you."

The Pure kill Wolf-Blooded out of hand.
The Pure lock Wolf-Blooded in basements, using them as feral baby-making machines.
The Pure slaughter whole packs, along with their families.
The Pure destroy everything they touch.

The Pure are after you.

Somewhere along the way, like with the bogeyman, I stopped being afraid of them. They lost their power.

This will probably screw me over someday, when I need to be afraid and am not.

When I had that stupid sword, I refused to let the threat of the Pure stop me from working. And they didn't come.

Just like when I ran away from home for one day (well, two hours) when I was seventeen, they didn't immediately find me and snatch me off of the street to be lost to the rest of the world forever.

And when I refused to eat baked beans my father prepared for a meal when I was six, the Pure didn't materialise me and eat me for being so cheeky.

I know they're a real threat. I do. A serious threat.

But I'm incapable of taking them seriously.

And that's going to bite me in the ass. Possibly literally.