Dixovu

He remembers, dimly, cyan eyes glowing through the darkness at him. They went to join the darkness among the glowing mushrooms long ago.

He wandered. He fought. He wasn't good enough.

When the guards of some clan caught him on the edge of the Icewarden's territory, he'd fought, of course. But they were young and strong, and he was old and weak from not finding enough to eat in the Icefields. They'd chained him to the ice of a cave, but before they could leave, something stirred in the shadows.

All he remembered was the creeping feeling of horror as pure nothingness stretched over him. Perhaps this was where he belonged. In the dark.

---

It was pure chance that let enough warm days in a row seep in through the cave mouth, let a splash of water fall on his back - let the smallest glimmer of light through. He opened his eyes for the first time in a year, and suddenly memories of real Shadow flashed through his mind - the Shadow glimmering with light and laughter, and he saw the thickness of dark all around him for what it really was.

Carefully, so carefully, he prized his paws up from where they'd frozen to the ground, past the dusty skulls, and inched his way towards the shaft of light.

((large for his breed. Needs Spines.))