In Futures' Past

The first indication of something wrong was their smell, which awakened him immediately. He snorted and tried to blow that foul stench from his sleep. The next breath brought him an even stronger smell and to a full awakening. A full yet old pair of lungs bellowed out a cry of warning throughout the entire valley and in turn, echoed by thousands of voices which were deafening. The low growl of an enemy and then the echoing sounds of the valley were replaced by the sounds of battle. The enemy had struck at night once again. The old bosk tried to get to his feet and stumbled. He was surprised at how he had gotten so stiff the last few hard years. The huge bison-like creature thundered to the location of battle while giving orders to the cows and calves, his bellow carried over the sounds of battle and were immediately obeyed and without question. The calves were placed in the center of a circle protected by the cows and then on the outer circle, the bulls lined up on the outer ring of defense, all horns faced out, calves were quieted and as silent as their parents. The air grew hot with their breath as thousands of bodies were pressed close to one another and fear pushed adrenaline through those massive bodies of theirs. Peace was their way and most inoffensive of creatures, yet when faced with violence, were the deadliest of creatures in this world. These creatures were as massive as Clydesdales with horns extending in a long double bowed fashion that ended in needle-like points. The bosk’s hooves were large and wide to walk on snow, swamp mud or shifting sand and did not scar the land when they walked. The jaws of the bosk were full of teeth and tusks with no room left for space between the teeth at all, as our cattle of today. These great mammoths of the grassy plain were the ultimate evolutionary design nature could provide, yet even so, they had their enemies all the same, the wolf, bear, man and even Nature herself. The old bull came upon the battle in a full gallop, as he assessed the situation. Timber wolves had come down out of the mountains and had felled a heifer already. A yearling was wounded and at present, still fighting off the large pack of canines as a line of young bulls faced the pack, keeping themselves between the herd and the hungry wolves. He bellowed for them to charge and save the young wounded bull but they refused to move forward. Fear of death and envy of an upcoming male held them to their stations. The old one plowed through their formation, knocking two of the bull bosks to the ground as they stood between him and the fighting yearling and then continued on into the fray of battle. The wolves used their old tactic of wearing a larger animal down until it was too tired to defend itself, and then go in for the kill by sheer force of numbers. Two wolves were spitted on his enormous horns and thrown twenty feet away while another was crushed by a huge hoof. Then they were on him like flies on honey, tearing at his hind quarters and neck. A shrug and practiced kick set him free and killed still another, and then he was at the side of the yearling. Back to back, they faced the surrounding wolves. Blood and sweat flowed freely from their magnificent bodies as they stood against the snapping, slavering jaws of the blood mad wolves. The wolves were seemingly tireless as they continued the strategy that was inherent in their nature. They attacked them, then retreated as another wolf would attack from behind. The deadly game continued on and on as the line of young bull bosks looked on uncaringly. To them, the wolves were doing their work for them, for the old bull must be defeated before one of them could take over the herd and as for the yearling, he was a possible threat in just months, for even now, he was of great strength and bold manner. The old bull knew the outcome of such a deadly game. The great coat of the young bull was covered in lather and his massive neck muscles were giving way. He looked despairingly at the line of massive males that barred his way to the herd and safety. If just one would help or stand aside, there would be no threat. They would not. He was too proud to ask for help that was not given freely or plea to someone who was uncaring. The yearling stumbled beside him and looked at the huge old bosk with despair as the wolves closed in for the kill. The old one ignored the teeth that slashed his old hide and speared the wolves one by one that sought a killing hold on the yearling. The yearling took heart and shook the remaining opponents from his shoulders then charged the wolves that that sought to carry the old one down. The wolves scattered, yet they were reforming quickly to renew the game which they surely must win. The old one refused to play anymore. He bellowed for the young one to follow him and he charged the line of waiting bull bosks. The pale blue eyes of the old one were red with rage as he bellowed his challenge to the waiting younger males. He thundered on like a giant locomotive with a smaller one on his heels. This force and show of courage was too much and the line parted to allow both of them to pass. The old one turned and trotted leisurely back to the line of young males and stood defiantly in its center, the young yearling at his side. The old bull looked down both sides of the line, catching the eye to eye contact of each one. The Old One reestablished his authority as alpha male with that look. No longer were they divided. Once again the heard was united as a single life-force. He bellowed the charge and the attacking wolves were stamped out of existence. As the old bull trotted back from the battle to the safety of the herd, the yearling trotted beside him and gave him a nudge just to say, “Thanks Dad”. The old one just shrugged as if to say, “That’s all right, Son”. They walked away together for a while and when they were out of sight of the others the old one faced the young one nose to nose for a breath or two then led the way to the water hole as to say, “Just don’t let it happen again”. The two bulls walked side by side to the local watering hole, the older one just a little ahead of the younger. The younger one seemed to walk with the same confidence mixed with a new caution as his father. Together, nothing would oppose them again and the young bull decided that he did not need to coax the young heifers to secluded areas when they were ready to breed. He knew now, if it comes to butting heads over a mate, he could butt heads with the best of them. Acceptance The two titans were locked in eternal battle as they were pulled into the ninth canal, so consumed in the destruction of the other they hardly noticed the change. White Angelic wings intertwined with leather bat like demonic wings of black as each of the immortals sought to find a superior hold on the other. Each of the titans were trying to dominate the other with superior force but to no avail. The battle continued on even after they fell out of the inth order well into a different reality. Their immortal essences struggled to make sense of the new surroundings but to no avail. They could perceive millions of other individuals were observing them with amusement, most far more powerful than they. Their perception could not filter out the enigma so they were somewhat confused, yet they fought on determined to destroy the other by shear will power. In the end there can only be one. One to rule, one to die that is the only ultimate goal. It did not matter who was observing the battle at hand. The battle must rage on until there was only one. Nothing should interfere with this ultimate battle until the final outcome. Victory or death, fight to the end with all one has to fight with until the was nothing left of your enemy. The reality changed before them, once again leaving them both off center, yet they fought on.