White Fang Imagery

Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light.  A vast silence reigned over the land.  The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness.  There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness---a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility.  It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life.  It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild. (Ch. 1, Pg. 1)

But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who were not yet dead.  Their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned leather.  Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost.  But under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and silence, puny adventures bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of space. (Ch. 1, Pg. 2)

As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his own body which he had never felt before.  He watched his moving muscles and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers slowly and repeatedly, now one at a time, now all together, spreading them wide or making quick gripping movements.  He studied the nail-formation, and prodded the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly, gauging the while nerve sensations produced. It fascinated him, and he grew suddenly fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately.  Then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle drawn expectantly about him, and like a blow the realization would strike him that this wonderful body of his, this living flesh, was no more that so much meat, a quest of ravenous animals, to be torn and slashed by their hungry fangs, to be sustenance to them as the moose and the rabbit had often been sustenance to him. (Ch. 3, Pg 23)

This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had other troubles. On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and marked with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her right side. The fact that he had but one eye, and that the left eye, might account for this. He, also, was addicted to crowding her, to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or neck. As with the running mate on the left, she repelled these attentions with her teeth; but when both bestowed their attentions at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled, with quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way of her feet before her. At such times her running mates flashed their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. They might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more pressing hunger-need of the pack. (Ch. 4, Pg. 29)

The she-wolf had by now developed a ferocious temper. Her three suitors all bore the marks of her teeth. Yet they never replied in kind, never defended themselves against her. They turned their shoulders to her most savage slashes, and with wagging tails and mincing steps strove to placate her wrath. But if they were all mildness toward her, they were all fierceness toward one another. The three-year-old grew too ambitious in his fierceness. He caught the one-eyed elder on his blind side and ripped his ear into ribbons. Though the grizzled old fellow could see only on one side, against the youth and vigor of the other he brought into play the wisdom of long years of experience. His lost eye and his scarred muzzle bore evidence to the nature of his experience. He had survived too many battles to be in doubt for a moment about what to do. (Ch. 4, Pg. 32)

Comment Stream

2 years ago
0

I really like your first choice for the imagery because the beginning of the book really shows what the wild is like.

2 years ago
0

Great choices of imagery D Bauer 😃

2 years ago
0

The pictures are 👍 I like the paragraphs and how they go so well with the pictures

2 years ago
0

i like how your pictures represent your paragraphs good

2 years ago
0

🎅

2 years ago
0

I like your examples of imagery and the pictures go really well with it.

2 years ago
0

"Frowned"- Personification of Trees :-)