Read Online A New World: Awakening by John O'Brien - Free Book Online

Michael finds it strange that he can sense one of the two-legged even if just for a moment.   He waits for another sensing but nothing appears.   The vibration and rumbling fade into the distance.   Tiredness from the night’s hunt takes hold once again.   He lays on the carpeted floor and falls back to sleep.
    Rising with the setting of the sun, he stretches in the dark and readies himself for another night of hunting.   Eagerness spills into his eyes.   He lives for the hunt and the thrill of the chase.   With that feeling inside, he ventures out like he does every night and tests the air for scents.   The night has more moisture than those previous.   This is good news as the moist air will carry the scent of prey better.   He lifts his nostrils to the cloudy night sky.   The remembrance of the touch on his mind surfaces and he glances quickly to his left towards the large two-legged lair.
    He stands a moment and, although he is eager to be off on the hunt, he knows it will have to wait.   The intrigue of that brush speaks louder than his desire for the chase.   With a move so quick that it would startle most humans, one minute standing still and the next moving, he lopes toward the lair he has avoided so far.
    He keeps his presence and ability to sense others in the back of his mind yet keeps alert as he draws closer to the tall walls.   He expects the feeling of the two-legged one he felt to return as he nears.   The ability is limited by distance.   Not knowing why he sensed a two-legged one, he thinks the distance may limit it even more.   He senses nothing as he draws cautiously to the walls.   The smell of the two-legged prey behind the walls increases.   Their scent is strong in the air, especially seeing they have been there for a length of time.
    He looks to the walls.   He can’t see any way to scale their heights.   He doesn’t hear any of the two-legged ones so throws caution to the wind and takes a running leap in an attempt to reach the top but falls several feet short.   He looks down the wall’s length, stretching past his vision, seeing no change in the height.   Michael backs up farther and tries again but with the same result.   Looking carefully for any hand holds he missed on first glance, he sees nothing he can use.   He looks to the ground and begins to dig where the wall meets the tall grass.   He manages to get a foot down but has to stop as the soil becomes too hard.   The wall follows his path downward.   There’s no way under.
    Feeling frustration at not being able to sense whatever brushed his mind during his sleep nor gain entrance, he lopes along the wall looking for any change.   He circumnavigates the entire boundary without finding any.   Picking up the scent of additional prey behind the seemingly insurmountable walls, his frustration increases.   The trip around has taken a large part of his time for hunting.   The smell of prey is tantalizingly close but he can’t get to it.   He knows he must be off if he is to feed tonight.   With a shriek of frustration and rage, he lopes into the night to use the last few hours to find food.
     
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    The sun vanishes behind the upper layer of clouds as we begin our climb.   I ask Robert to keep us down low and give our sanctuary a low pass; kind of a farewell if you will.   He levels off and descends slightly turning further to the south, picks up I-5 and follows it.   We are only around five hundred feet above ground; not too low but not terribly high either.   The changing weather brings the occasionally choppy turbulence but Robert handles it fine.   The walls of the sanctuary come into view and we head directly for the green roof of Cabela’s.   Well, not directly at it as that would entail smacking into it.   That’s not the optimal idea.   Any move in that direction would most definitely garner my undivided attention.   We more fly towards it.
    As we