Dream Lynx Tribe begining

Sitting by the fire that bellowed for life from the people sitting around it caused an urge for an old story, the story of the dream lynxes. One only need ask the tribe leader to know how it all became the now great city. The city lit with life that coursed from someone so dead. Her pale face that the fire called to her. She stood with composure that allured them to ask her to tell them once more. Her face for a moment, when she began came alive once more. The day so long ago when the world had fallen allowed us to come to life. You can look about the fire and see the past that lives there. For me my journey started before the virus, before anything was wrong. It started with my family. My cruel and violent family. If only I had been boy number two. One tear, a moment's glimpse into her shattered soul brought her to skip her family. I was taken to an institution for the insane.

I fell into a depression. The institution tried to curb with medication. Something no one should ever be treated with. They almost fatally took my life. The anger that lived below the surface of her skin could be seen now. The flames of hate that lived in her shown in her eyes. They placed me in a hospital after trying to kill me. The vultures seemed to circle into the picture. More and more medications to fix the other medications were their method. One day I was just too tired to fight them. I gave in. The look of shame came forth on her face. Never again will I give in. They did things as I slept. My brother visited me once. The logbook next to my bed said so. I was too tired to wake and stop him. He was the cause of everything!

She showed her rage for him. Then she calmed herself. The virus struck. The only decent thing they did was to place us somewhere they thought the virus would never get us. The ones who were too tired to wake. They hooked us up to machines that would keep us alive. Some of them may have survived, but most withered on the vine of their own youth. I alone was the last to be seen leaving alive, or what you would consider alive. I remember the smell, the smell of decaying flesh that swarmed my senses, which made me awaken. All around me were people who were long since gone. Some beds were empty, and some only had the bodies on the floor. I saw so many lines flat, no life left on them. The ringing sound that still rings in my ear from the machines. The flat line of so many people rang deeply in my mind. They lay in the depths of death. I alone came to life.

I was reborn there. The first thing that I saw was a small bird, all the colors of a fiery red sunset. I knew then that it was time to begin a new with a new name. My name became Fiona, or better known as Fi. I had life that the others did not. I wondered did they give their life to me? I would never know. To prevent anyone from every disturbing them; I poured the vials of medication on the floor. One lighter still in my clothing in a bag at the end of the bed allowed me to end their suffering and indignity. I got dressed and on my way out lit the medication.

The flames of my rage began that day. The flames of this tribe began. The screaming sirens of a police car made me run. As it passed the figure of a man, a deranged man screaming power and chaos begged me to leave. This was no place for me. No place for my tribe. I left over the bridge and never wanted to return. The silent wanderings brought me to a horse. He a beautifully wild horse with a dark long mane that draped over his black silky body. I drew close to my newfound friend. I did not alarm him and so he drew near to me. The silky black oil of a color that covered him was only adored by a bright red figure of a bird that lived on it. The black silk allowed it to stay and be noticed. It lay upon his breast. A few movements allowed me to get up on him. The loud noises of the glass shattering could still be heard.

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