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Post by Rahiel on Jul 15, 2009 12:28:18 GMT -5
Rahiel stepped down dismally from the stone ledge. Her graceful body was tired and thin, her eyes calm as she peered through the dark recesses of what once was considered the Main den. A large open hollow cave where wolves often met to discuss, to talk, and to rest. Family groups had found their own little areas around the Mountain, for Rahiel was certain that there were hundreds of hollowed-out areas everywhere that had yet to be discovered. But no one lived in them anymore, of that she was certain. After weeks and weeks of searching, of calling, of hoping that some would have stayed behind, a heart breaking shock had left her to discover that she was indeed the only one left.
There had been numerous times where she had considered leaving to, to go in search of some of her pack-members. Many she knew to be dead, but a few had simply fled. The only thing that really kept her on this forsaken mass of stone and earth was something her Alpha had told her when despair was just starting to sweep over the lands.
”When the last Sasriel willingly leaves a territory, that territory can never be claimed again. But as long as one is standing, the land remains pure, strong, and true.”
And now here she was, the last one standing. The past came to her as vague memories and she angrily shook her head. It was not time to dawdle on them. As long as she stayed here, there was still hope. As long as she didn’t move from this land there could still be a chance of revival. There was no saying how hard it was for her to hold onto that. She had not eaten in a week, the snow to harsh and the wind to bitter for her to leave the warmth of the Main den, for it was indeed the warmest of the Mountain, but lately her hunger had driven her to the ends of the some of the tunnels and she had come to the conclusion that even the warmest part of the den was not warm enough without the bodies of fellow loved ones.
Rahiel felt a familiar cramping in her wings and she groaned. Since winter had set in, the bitter cold had done nothing for them but make them worse. Stopping her pacing, she slowly unraveled them, avoiding looking them all the while. Once she got past a certain point, she arched her wings as far as they would go and stretched the stiff muscles in them slowly. When that task was down, she let the white, scarred feathers droop down by her side and she looked around her, dark blue eyes glinting in the dark chambers. With a strong, heavy sense of doubt, she decided to check on the weather.
She walked briskly to the end of the cave and leaped into a tunnel that jutted out in total darkness. She boldly went through it, her confidence brought on by the many years she had spent wandering all the tunnels in the Mountain. She passed a series of empty chambers along the way, some still lingering of their inhabitants, giving the feel of a ghost-like presence, as though the essence of those that once lived here remained, replaying the events that took place here so long ago. The tunnel arched downward and she gave her body to an easy lope, hesitating as she passed a narrow entrance. She knew where it led and what had once lived within it. She had not gone into it since her siblings died.
That had once been her Home den.
Grunting at the thoughts, she leapt and landed heavily on the stone ground, her paw pads stinging from the cold. A blast of cool air met her face and she knew she was close. She slowed to an easy trot, her claws crisply clinking against the floor. She maneuvered through a complex row of tunnels, her paws seeming to take her as her mind wandered. When she came to an open mouth, she was jerked from her reveries by the surprising amount of sunlight that had met her, as well as the bitter wind that stung her eyes. She blinked like a newborn for a moment and sighed, a little relieved. She had not seen sunlight in so long . . .
Cautiously folding her wings back upon her back, she walked out, her nimble body being pushed a little by the wind. The winter blizzard seemed to have subsided some, for now, though by the looks of the sky it would not yet be over. She took in a deep breath of the ice cold air and took in all the scents around her, hoping to catch something tasty on the wind.
But instead, she heard a feeble bleat that made her eyes dance with a glimmer of ravenous hunger. She plunged down the steep side, carefully judging her strides so as not to fall. She came to what would have been a grassy top in the spring and summer months. She looked out across the way, over the large, frozen river that turned into a waterfall fifty feet from her. On the other side, struggling against jagged rocks and broken shards of ice, was a mountain goat, young and with what looked like a couple broken legs.
Her muscles tensed and she whined like a pup. The goat bleated again. She knew how rare and odd this was, that a goat had fallen from the tower of rocks when their hooves were made for such precise footwork. It must have been caught in the storm and trying to catch up with its group. She would be doing them both a favor by ending its life. In three solid bounds, she was flying over the deep snow. It was up to her chest but she plowed through it with new found energy. She had forgotten about the frozen river however, and slipped and fell several times before dashing to the other side, cutting her paws a little on the rocks as she blindly lurched over to her prize.
The goat seemed to sense what was happening and bleated loudly again, two of its legs obviously crushed. Laughing ravens called and mocked ahead of her and she snarled savagely at them. Licking the drool that spread along her maw, she lunged for the injured goat, grabbing its throat in her strong muzzle. It was quickly dead and she dragged it closer to the river where she did not have to worry about the icy rocks beneath her feet. She had dove into her meal without hesitation, warm blood temporarily staining her white fur.
She had eaten so quickly that she had become unaware of anything else, including the sudden loss of sunlight. Dark clouds had started to form again and the wind was picking up. When she had eaten her fill, she wondered if it would be wise to take the time to drag the carcass back to the den or leave now and abandon it. All she had to worry about was ravens . . . she sighed, distressed. Not wanting to be stuck in a blizzard as she was trying to climb up to the entrance of the mountain, she licked her muzzle and bounded away, but more cautious of the ice now and her mind much sharper on a full stomach.
When she came to the entrance, she paused and looked out over the Mountain land and some of the distant patches of land surrounding it. Barren, empty . . . everything lifeless. Feeling much more able to think now, she decided to send out another calling, to see if maybe, the blizzard had pushed in a few strays.
Lifting her maw to the sky, she let her clear voice echo out as far as it would reach, calling to any that would listen. Calling wolves to a sanctuary, calling Sasriels to a new home. Calling for company and for comfort of knowing that she was not the only one there.
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Post by Heron on Jul 27, 2009 21:00:39 GMT -5
Heron was so hungry. Her stomach seemed to growl and twist with its own life. The grumbling had begun to remind Heron of a voice, a demanding voice screaming for food, repeating one word over and over: food. The dance in Herons belly had recently begun a mad revelry, stabbing at her insides with malice. The hunger was overbearing, almost enough to force the cold out of her thoughts.
Almost.
Her breath misted in front of her, the snow barely making a sound under her cold paws. She was stalking her prey, the first she had sighted since returning home. Heron was being more cautious then actually necessary. She could not afford to loose this prey.
Closer. Closer... So close...
Heron bared her teeth, tasting the air, desperately. So close...
As Heron moved in for the kill a howl broke the silence that had held for over a week. The voice held a longing, and a promise of solace, a call to bring her home.
The rabbit sprinted away, startled by the strangers voice. Herons lunge showed her desperation. Her three legs fumbling in the snow, a yelp of despair ripping itself, unwelcome, from her mouth. Still the rabbit escaped her snapping maw.
Her legs collapsed under her, as if signaling her defeat, her stomach screaming in agony. Her missing paw throbbed, she could still feel the missing limb, and it still hurt with the rest of her body. It throbbed in the cold, burned worse then the rest of her body, hurting.
The snow seemed to be getting warm around her, and the wind felt like a gentle touch against her fur. It would be so easy to sleep here amidst the frozen graveyard. To drift into the solace of a dream, where she could hunt, savoring the warmth of the flowing blood... Herons eyes clouded over, caught in the beauty of her dream...
A nasty flip of her stomach, demanding the food that could not be acquired in dream land brought Heron to reality. She could not go to sleep now, knowing that if she allowed herself to drift she probably wouldn't wake up again.
Herons three good legs forced her body up, shaking under her weight. She curled her crippled leg into her body, holding the stump away from the snow. Her swaggering limp was more pronounced as she staggered toward the direction the voice had sung from. It was the only place she knew to go. Any where else only led to her dreams, the dreams that she would never wake up from.
After what seemed an eternity Heron began to see a familiar shape forming through the haze that hung over her eyes... There was the body that went with the lonely voice.
Heron lowered her head, hunkering her shoulders and placing her tail firmly between her legs. She could not afford a confrontation right now; there was no fight she could win.
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Post by Rahiel on Jul 27, 2009 21:44:01 GMT -5
Rahiel brought her muzzle down, her eyes watering from the chilly wind. She pricked her ears, waiting for signs of life, wishing for it. She nearly jumped when she heard a familiar, broken howl in the distance. A wave of deep sadness swept through her. Grhym. Oh how she missed him . . . but she knew he would be asking for trouble if he came up here now, the journey would be too hard for many travelers.
She began to wonder if it was true that if the last Sasriel left that the land could never be claimed again . . . sighing, she stepped back and was about to go back into the mountain when a flash of something caught her eye and the whiff of an unfamiliar sight caught her nose. Her ears pricked down the rocky slope and she cautiously sniffed the air. Her heart began to thud inside her chest and she moved forward, almost in slow motion, down the slope before she broke into a easy lope.
She couldn’t believe it . . . another wolf!
Her breath caught for a moment as the scenario caught up with her. The stranger was not a friend of hers, but neither a foe, and so was welcome. She was submissive, this female, and so Rahiel calmly and slowly made her way towards her, the female’s face coming in clearer and clearer the closer she got. Rahiel’s wings tightened themselves around her body as the cold tried to seep in, but she ignored it for the time being, her soft blue eyes a welcoming beacon of hope for this bedraggled fae before her. Rahiel purposefully caught her eye and said nothing. There would be no conversation out here; she would lead the female to the mountain. She eyed her missing limb carefully; she had seen her share of three legged wolves from previous battles. The fact that this one was still alive said a lot about her already. She came closer and carefully unraveled one of her wings, sucking in a breath as she hid the mask of pain as sharp pins spread through her grizzly wing. Gingerly, she lay the grotesque thing over the new wolf to shield her from the wind, lowering her head so the she could speak softly to her.
“Can you make it up the slope?”
Rahiel’s voice had a gentle promise to it, compared to the longing before. She couldn’t count how many times she had asked that question, her slight form often dragging the weight of the injured up herself. She looked meek, but she knew she was far from it. She thought of the goat she killed not far back and knew she could make a quick meal if need be, a chunk of the leg would at least help this injured female get back onto her feet.
Her soft, white fur ruffled gently as the wind grew stronger. They would need to move now if they were to make it. But she said nothing, patiently waiting for an answer.
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Post by Heron on Jul 27, 2009 22:12:59 GMT -5
The sight and smell of another wolf made Herons heart race. She was not alone here, that fact was enough to shake any longing for dreams from her mind.
The wolf loped easily toward her, delicate blue eyes standing out against the snow. Herons mind dumbly registered that this female was a sasriel, wings folded against her body. Dumbly it remembered the pack wars, wolf pitted against wolf, race against race. Herons mind recalled its own battles, and with the same dumb intelligence registering the wolfs movement, her wince as she unfurled her wings, the wind howling against the feathered wall around her.
“Can you make it up the slope?”
The words slowly forced their way into Herons head, echoing through ears that had been forced to listen only to her own breathing. Could she make it up the slope? How far had she traveled, through how many other snares and troubles? Had it been possible that she had been willing to lie down and die? The warmth that radiated off the female body bled new found life into Herons frozen body.
She was not going to let a few days of cold and hunger kill her. Heron was much stronger than that. And if that couldn't stop her, no slope was going to do it either.
"Hell yeah."Her voice seemed foreign to her, having been unused for more than a week. It rasped over her tongue and into the air, catching Heron by surprise. She grinned, head raised confidently to a height still lower than the females.
Heron was forced to rely on some of the strength of the stranger, her body weaker than she felt. Her stomach ignored that fact that her mind and heart were racing with excitement, and proceeded to demand food in loud, angry tones, stabbing her innards with increased vigor. Herons legs and body were still weak from the cold, and her aches had become worse as a little heat reached her muscles.
In the back of her mind a voice grumbled about the closeness of a stranger, making her vulnerable. She was too close... Another part of her mind held tight to the warmth that radiated from the wolf, screaming at the other at the idea of leaving the shelter of the wolf’s wing. They warred an internal battle, snapping at each other, as the rest of Heron struggled with the physical labor of moving.
Under her breath Heron repeated herself under her breath, forcing herself to believe her own words, "Hell yeah."
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Post by Rahiel on Jul 28, 2009 10:37:42 GMT -5
Rahiel grinned to herself at the wolf’s words.
Hell yeah . . .
“That’s the spirit,”
This wolf was a fighter, she knew. She had to be. She had every tell tale sign of battle and fight on her. She wondered if she was from these lands previously and if she was, Rahiel couldn’t remember treating her.
But these questions she could ask later. Right now, her focus was getting back into the mountain. The wind howled down onto them, tearing painfully at the feathers on her wings. Still she kept the one outstretched, for it seemed to helping the stranger at least a little bit. She bowed her head against the cold wind and focused each new step up the mountain. Her paw pads started to hurt as she stepped on the frozen rocks and shards of ice but she continued to ignore it. She had only one priority.
When they reached the den entrance, it was immediate relief. The wind was gone, the cold gradually lessened, and it was much dryer.
“Stick close.” She said softly.
These dens could be a crazy maze to a wolf that had never lived here. As soon as they reached the main den, she tucked her wing back in and sighed, gazing up at the tall surrounding walls. She looked back down at the female.
“You’ll be safe here,” she said, backing slowly. “Stay here, I have something for you.”
She would be much warmer in the main area, Rahiel knew. So, as she dashed down the narrow tunnels and out again into the open frigid air, she focused what remained of her energy of finding the dead mountain goat from before, her long white legs carrying her swiftly over the craggy landscape. She knew that when her paws touched a sleek sheet of ice that she was close. It wasn’t long before the scent of blood filled her nose. She was close. Her steady paws easily glided over the ice and she used the wind beneath her wings to turn her. She knew when she found the goat when a hug black cloud of ravens came into her view.
With a snarl and a snap she lunged at the big birds, her calm blue eyes turning into sharp, daring crystals. She pounced on the picked at carcass of the goat, using her built up energy from attacking the birds to grab the leg and rip it from the body. It would do for now. Now panting heavily, she trotted elegantly back over the ice, slipping slightly at the end when she began to shiver again. She bounded up the slope, using her claws much like a cat might, digging them into what soft sections she could to help pull her up. She drug the stiff leg with her, and though it wasn’t heavy, it was hard work keep her head up. A trail of blood followed her paw prints in the snow, but she found she wasn’t really worried. She doubted much more than ravens would visiting this day.
When she came back into the main area, she walked up to the wolf again, slowly, calmly, but on shaky legs this time. She was worn out now. With a thud, the leg dropped to the ground before the stranger and Rahiel raised her head nobly once more, a gentle smile etched on her maw. Though she was breathing hard, she had made it before the storm had gone full force, and she had helped save a life.
“My name is Rahiel,” she said as her breathing calmed. “I am alphess of Sun Crest. Though . . . it seems I am the last of my kind. I have been a loner here for many months. I am sorry to see you in such a bedraggled condition, but I must say, I am glad to have company.”
She nosed the leg at the female’s feet.
“This is for you. You’ll need your strength.” With a flick of her ears, she turned her head to the side slightly. “And if you are not to tired, I’d like to know your name. Are you from around these territories?”
She could only assume she was, after all, since she hadn’t been frightened by the likes of winged wolf . . .
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Post by Heron on Jul 28, 2009 11:29:54 GMT -5
The frozen slope slid by like something out of a dream. Herons swagger became more pronounced as she struggled up the slope, already tired legs straining against gravity. It seemed that the snow became colder under her paws, crystals jabbing with renewed vigor as their prey escaped its wintery hold.
But Herons mind was far from her physical discomfort, though not really focusing on one thing. Her attention would fly from one subject to the next, each fighting for her attention. The wolf beside her, the discomfort of that, the warmth, food, rest, company, home. Anything that her mind could focus on for a few seconds held her captivated.
The female led her to the entrance of a den that was permeated with her sent. This was obviously the strangers home, her smell only accompanied by the smells of caves. This, at least, was some comfort to the suspicious part of Herons brain that was screaming in protest. It quieted a little to discover that she was alone; and, it admitted grudgingly, she hadn't killed Heron yet, which seemed a relatively good sign.
Her own thoughts were echoed by the stranger "You'll be safe here." Heron barely heard these words, her brain humming with excitement and suspicion. The female slowly backed away, turning to the exit of the den, leaving Herons heart fluttering desperately. She could not leave! Not yet!
Again part of Herons brain mocked the desperate cries of the other, scorning the weakness and pathetic attachment.
Heron stood, crippled leg still cradled up against her body, staring at the walls around her. After being in the open for so long, the walls around Heron seemed to be cramped, and dark. Discomfort set in, the air was too close, and the silence seemed to be screaming at her. This silence was different, Heron realized, then that which had plagued her for a week. This silence seemed more complete, the stone muting much of her own movement, now wind howling or trees creaking...
The clicking of claws announced the return of the sasriel. Herons tail did an involuntary dance of joy at the return of her company, a movement quickly stilled and returned to a place of submission.
Herons gut nearly took control of her when she registered what the sasriel was carrying; meat. It took all of Herons self control to stop herself from rushing at the food and ripping it from the wolfs mouth. Heron dropped her head low, avoiding eye contact with the wolf, or the bloody meat.
With a thud the meat landed in front of Heron, a juicy scent wafting past her as it did so. Ravenously Heron fell upon the meat, parting it from the bone with the experience and ease of a scavenger. After the first few mouthfuls Heron forced herself into an easy pace, chewing and swallowing, making the food seem like it lasted longer.
When she had finished her stomach only claimed partial contentment, though it had quick dancing and stabbing at her insides.
Heron had barely heard what the female had said before she had given her the food. Rahiel, was her name, alphess of Sun Crest... When she was training in the Outlands pack Heron had little contact with the outside world. Rahiels name seemed familiar to her, had she been the Alphess when the packs had crumbled?
Heron raised her head to look at the females face, this time daring eye contact. "Its an honor Rahiel. Names Heron, once of the Outlands pack. Recent mercenary. As for my condition, I’m always this pretty." Again she grinned, her tinkling laugh echoing around the cavern.
She glanced around the cavern, then looked quickly back to the alphess. "How long have yah been here?" Herons brain, now content with food, had decided to once again become suspicious, the survival drive contented by food and shelter.
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Post by Rahiel on Jul 28, 2009 12:50:50 GMT -5
Rahiel stepped back in surprise as the female launched herself on the leg, watching in quiet satisfaction. Obviously she had not eaten in a while. Rahiel felt a warm pride growing in herself – she had helped someone. When the female had finished, Rahiel allowed the eye contact and listened quietly to Heron’s introduction, smirking slightly when she commented on “always being this pretty.”
“Outlander, are you? I have heard of your kind. A very secretive pack, we didn’t see many end up in Sun Crest. I hear the female fighters are rare where you came from . . . you must have had a lot of fight to show those males whose boss?” she smiled some, her good humor starting to poke through. She liked Heron. “As for me . . . well, I’ve been here since the wars ended. My alpha was killed while I was ordered to stay in Sun Crest. . .”
She paused here, the memory chilling her to the bone. She remember her last flight over the battle field, how she had seen her brother taken down by the jaws of her mate, how she had been attacked by the Heus and her wings had been broken. The long journey back to Sun Crest had made her rethink all the good that was said about the Sasriels. Not all Sasriels were good, and she some of their minds had been mutated by war and bloodshed. She had never considered herself alpha material but . . .
“And the last Sasriel can never leave.” She said, coming out of the memory.
A pang in her back reminded her she needed to stretch her wings for fear of their cramping. Slowly she drew them from her body and laid them out to their full span; from wing tip to wing tip, they looked like a twisted heap of patched up eagle feathers.
“Blasted things! Wish I could just be rid of them, really. I can’t use them anymore anyway.”
Although this was only half true (for she knew she could soar short distances), she really wasn’t sure how she would ever be rid of them. She doubted she ever would be.
“So Heron,” she said gently, sitting down. “What has brought you back? I’m sorry to say that these lands are completely barren, to the best of my knowledge, save for me and a loner friend of mind that lives in the Raven Wing terra. These lands are completely stripped of life . . . often times I’ve thought of giving up and leaving myself . . . but part of me still fears that the Heus reside in their underground dens.”
She looked up at the dark recesses of the cavern and shook her head.
“Part of me still fears that if the packs come together again, bloodshed will also return. I don’t know if I can take it again.”
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Post by Heron on Aug 7, 2009 21:53:20 GMT -5
The Alphess seemed to being enjoying a chance to talk, so Heron did little to interrupt her, busy with her own inner battles. It seemed odd, really, now that she thought about it, that her mind (no matter how many divisions) should be having and argument with any part of the other. Or that her stomach had seemed to have developed a personality of its own... Hopefully not a sign of permanent insanity...
"I was the second best fighter of our age group, didna have tah fight with the boys, they all knew they couldn't handle me!" Heron grinned, glad to be thinking of something besides potential insanity, and not really minding a chance to boast to the she-wolf. It had been a fact to be proud of, a female besting the males. They would have caught up to her though, their size would have quickly given them an advantage, had they been given time to grow.
"Since then I-" Herons eyes gazed into Rahiels, which were far from the den and Heron. Heron avoided memories, at least the little jaunts back in time. There was too much pain in her past, and they only ever served as a distraction. Still, she wondered what could have taken the Alphess so far away, what could have sent her back...
Rahiel came back to the world magnificently, stretching her wings to their full length. "Well, them that don’t kill us only make us stronger. I imagine your wings does just that...? When I lost mah foot I had to learn to walk, and then run again... It taught me something... not sure what, but its there!" Heron paused listening. What had brought her back? "I suppose that’s kind of wha' brought me back. I got tired of runnin'. There’s not much to the world. A lot of violence, and bein' alone kinda makes it worse... So I came home...Not really a reason I guess."
So Rahiel thought the violence would begin anew, when the packs reformed? "Well, I'm guessing we've all seen enough of war. But that just seems tah be the nature of things, far as I can see. I suppose the best thing tah do is work against war, but face it when it be needing faced... The best leaders are they that can inspire hope and prevent violence, then turn and face danger and lead their followers bravely. If war comes, you'll be finding the strength to face it I think... Them that faced it once, all have the power again."
Wisdom was not really Herons best aspect, and even to her own ears her words sounded foolish. 'Stupid, she thought, 'Stupid. In front of someone important again to...'
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Post by Rahiel on Aug 8, 2009 12:53:51 GMT -5
Rahiel smiled at Heron’s spirit. Being a well fought female from the Outland was enough of a message to any stray wanderer that wished to pick a fight. Even with her missing paw, Rahi supposed that Heron was a devil to mess with.
“Indeed, males really can be full of it.” She agreed. “You Outland fae’s have always fascinated me. During the battles, especially in Amber Moor, your skill with their wit was astounding. The Heus didn’t stand a chance!”
At least, not then. And then parts of her own pack had gone traitor . . .
Rahiel listened to Heron talk about her foot and inwardly felt ashamed of herself. Here she was, the alphess that was supposed to remain the strong back bone of a fallen pack, and complaining about her wings when one of the wolves of the lower lands had gotten on stronger and faster with only three limbs. It went to prove how fickle some of the Sasriel beliefs were, that they were these angelic, perfect beings, when really it was the supposed “lesser” wolves that had the true means of survival bred into them.
Heron’s reasons for coming back were odd to Rahi, though she couldn’t say much, for she had never been outside of these pack lands, past Sun Crest or Raven Wing. There was violence outside these lands . . . and loneliness. In a way, this was almost a spark of hope, assuming others that fled hadn’t found other packs to join with, the normal ones anyway. Those that were half Sasriel or half Heus would be noticeably different. Her heart ached with sympathy though, for Heron and others like her. To still call this place home . . . to still yearn to come back . . .
But before Rahiel could say anything on the subject, Heron spoke of the war, of the things she supposed they’d have to face, that it was normal. Any other time, Rahiel probably would have attributed it to the fact that Heron was Outland born and bred, but so much had happened and just simply judging from what Heron had endured in her story, Rahi knew that those words had come from experience and somewhere else entirely. But what hit home was Heron’s trust that she, Rahiel of Sun Crest, would be able to face the troubles that were destined to come again. She couldn’t help the smile on her maw.
“Them that faced it once, all have the power again.”
She would remember those words.
Heron’s thoughts seemed to have drifted, Rahiel noticed, albeit slightly. It was an interesting moment that passed, inspiring for Rahiel. She wondered if the female before her knew how much her words had hit home. How much Rahiel had probably needed to hear them. For a moment she sat in silence with the fae, folding her wings back in slowly, their feathers rustling every so gently as the wind continued to screech outside like a banshee. It still surprised her that Heron had made it to Sun Crest with this weather, but she was happy she had. And then a new thought struck her . . .
Why had she come to Sun Crest? Perhaps she saw it as a sanctuary . . .
“Do you intend to return to the Outlands, then?” Rahiel asked quietly, sadness lacing her voice. She knew of course, Heron probably wouldn’t leave right now, not with the weather the way it was. For even the most experienced wolf it would be suicide, but she also knew that Heron couldn’t stay here, and Heron, being born and bred from the Outlands, probably knew it too. “You know, they’ll need an alpha, if you’re interested of course.”
And then you will lose all contact with her, a small voice said inside her head. The Outland wolves never had contact with any of the packs east of them; secrecy was their thing. And from what Rahiel had seen when they first emerged, there had been a reason for it. Their focus was on whatever their leaders had told them. They shared no alliance with any packs, just knew that the Heus were the enemy. She wondered for a moment if the Heus had done something to them to provoke them but then cast it off. They didn’t seem the type to be provoked, nor did they seem to allow the opportunity.
And yet they mysteriously seemed to know about the other packs. It was so confusing . . .
“My soul that weather sounds worse and worse . . . I’m surprised how brutal its gotten this early in the season. But . . . I suppose it keeps the . . . Heus away. For a short while.” She sighed. “Unless we all freeze and starve to death first.”
Her sharp crystal eyes softened as she gazed around the empty dens again, as though waiting for them to magically fill up. The faint, silver freckles on her snout gave her an innocent, fragile look again, and she turned back to Heron, a content look on her features.
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Post by Heron on Aug 10, 2009 22:42:55 GMT -5
The silence that pressed between Heron and Rahiel was the quiet of thought, as both faded into their thoughts. Heron briefly wondered what the Alphess could be thinking of, what worries had crossed her mind. Could she be thinking of Heron? Sizing her up?
Was she something the Alphess could accept? She was a cripple, ragged, an obvious ruffian. What self-respecting Alphess would want her in a pack? Sure, she was a skilled fighter. But her history was against her; her supposed 'betrayal' would have surely been heard of in the other packs... What Alpha would take her in?
“Do you intend to return to the Outlands, then?”
Herons tail rose, and her shoulders hunched, "I don't belong there. The bastards can keep their precious secrets from me." Her voice was aggressive, the a low growl, though she carefully kept her gaze down. It had been like this since her banishment; at the mention of her former pack she would automatically become stiff, angry.
Slowly Heron forced her shoulders to relax, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. "Beggin' your pardon Alphess... Bit of bad blood between me an' tha' pack..." Heron hesitated, still looking away. She was loathe to give her secrets, but part of her knew the Alphess deserved an explanation for her actions.
"I meant no harm by my snappishness..." She let out a grunt like laugh, "Probly a result of mah years alone, the wilderness does strange things to an already strange mind." She coughed, uncomfortable, "Mah old pack accused me of...of betraying pack secrets." She looked up eyes hard, her tail firmly lowered. "They put me on trial, found me guilty, an' attempted to carry out mah execution. But I swear by mah honor that I ne'er would betray mah pack!" The pain of the accusations still stung Herons heart, the pain as strong as the day of her trail.
"As for me bein' an Alphess... That’s a laughing matter there. I could handle a squad to be lead, but me, I'm dead hopeless when it comes to handlin' pups an' old folks..." She softened her features then, again allowing herself to smile, a little. "In fact... Ifn it wouldna be too much trouble... I don't much fancy being to much nearer to the Outlands... Meybe..."
She lowered her head, sure that her question was stupid.
All this submission was driving her crazy, she knew what she was doing was not all necessary She had just been alone so long... It felt, safer perhaps.
(OOC: meh...)
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Post by Rahiel on Aug 12, 2009 22:53:14 GMT -5
Rahiel could not hide the look of surprise on her face at Heron’s snappish comment, her ears pricking forward interestedly through her eyes grew wide. Such vulgar language too . . .
A strange brutality seemed to have taken over Heron’s persona, making her seem bitter and suddenly . . . cold. Rahiel lifted her head, carefully observing the she-wolf as she raised her tail and bristled. Had she said something to induce a challenge? But no . . . there was soon an explanation. Rahiel watched her quietly, slightly worried as she drew in deep breaths to calm herself. A lot had happened to her, there was no doubting that.
Betraying pack secrets . . . that was it. She could have just said that and Rahiel would have understood immediately. For all the good they seemed to do, they sure seemed strict . . .
But she saw the hurt in Heron’s fierce eyes. She was a strong female, no doubt, and she had the personality of one who would be loyal to her cause. The hurt in her was genuine. And the fact that she shared such a harsh secret with her opened up Rahi’s heart to her. Already, the young Alphess’s soft heart was poking through. She believed Heron and she hated the thought that anyone would have to go through that with their pack . . . their family. What had her parents done? What had they thought? Did she have a mate and did he even bother standing up for her? Yet Rahiel bit her tongue. It was not fair to ask secrets from a fae that had been so wrongly accused of sharing secrets before.
A similar story had surfaced around the time of the battles . . . she wondered if this was the same wolf. If so, she still had a price on her head. . . assuming the same wolves came back. She had spoken to a few of the Outlanders; should she show up, she would need to be killed. She knew too much – she would put them all in danger.
Rahiel could only smile half heartedly as Heron made her comment about being an Alphess. A pity . . . She could have made a good one, for either River Wood (she had the skill) or Amber Moor (she had the smarts). But then she surprised Rahiel by becoming submissive again, to the point of extreme. The words she spoke hit Rahiel so hard that she outwardly cringed and cast her own eyes too the ground.
d**n these old pack rules.
Swallowing, she bent her neck, gently nosing Heron’s muzzle.
“Avert your eye’s from the ground, friend.” She smiled kindly. “You can look at me. You are trusted here.”
She hoped her words were the right things to say to her and stood up before she continued, keeping casual eye contact. Heron didn’t seem the submissive type, and she admired her for trying to be respectful.
“I don’t know if you know the . . . laws of Sun Crest like the other packs used to,” she tried desperately searching for words. She could just not accept her . . . but like Ghrym, she couldn’t stay here. She was not full blooded . . . not even hybrid. “But we are supposed to be of a pure pack. We take in the sick and injured, give birth to hybrid young that leave when they reach maturity, but we can’t rank outside our kind.”
Our kind . . . She crinkled her nose at the word. “Our kind” had been mangled by the Heus, used as pawns against their very pack. She thought of her mate and how he had so easily killed her brother . . .
“But I’m the Alphess,” she said sternly, squaring her shoulders proudly. “Though I am not so apt to break tradition . . . I suspect I can see much of your presence in the low lands. I remember the Hills are quite warm during the spring and summer . . .”
A secret smile spread on her maw as the idea sprung in her head. Ghrym often visited her there, if he was not up to making a visit to the mountains. By pack law, wolves were allowed there for sanctuary – what safer place was there for a loner to be?
“And then there’s Raven Wing; I trust you know where that might be? The neutral land, south-east of here.” She thought quickly, remembering exactly of where Grhym often chose to travel. “There is a wolf there, an old friend of mine. When the time comes for us to part, I think you would find him to be a good companion. His name is Grhym . . . a big black fellow. He looks like a brute, but he has a heart as soft as puppy fur. He visits when he can . . .
We spent a lot of time together as pups, Grhym and I. He was a hybrid, I guess I should mention that, and the only wingless one out of his litter, not that hybrid wings are useful anyway. He hurt me to see him leave. His father was from Amber Moor, but he chose to stay in Raven Wing. He helps the loners out there, sends wolves my way sometimes . . .” she smiled distantly. “He almost died in that bloody battle. I saved him though . . . saved him and kept him for company like I’m keeping you now.” She chuckled slightly and then shook her head.
She sighed and paused, realizing she was going into memory mode with a wolf she had known for very long.
“Sorry. The past you know . . .it springs up on you. So as I was saying before . . .”
She studied Heron’s scarred face and hard eyes, hoping that she hadn’t upset her. This female had been alone for so long . . . she hated having to turn her away.
Because the truth was, she had been alone too.
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Post by Heron on Aug 16, 2009 19:55:26 GMT -5
"Avert your eye’s from the ground, friend.' You can look at me. You are trusted here.”
Heron immediately straightened her neck, snapping it back with force, cracking it in a most satisfying manner, sending ripples through the muscles in her thick back to crack sore places in her spine. The cold weather always seemed to do this to her bones, stiffening joints and making her very marrow ache. "Great place to come back to if you do'na like cold, genius."
“I don’t know if you know the . . . laws of Sun Crest like the other packs used to. But we are supposed to be of a pure pack...but we can’t rank outside our kind.”
Heron's look was a commonplace one for her face: confusion. Thinking back on what she had said, Herons heart gave an annoying twitch. "Ah- no... I know! I've known tha' since I was a pup... trainin' yah see... Get tah know potential enemies and their packs. We knew more bou' the other packs then they probly knew 'bou themselves! Well... that’s an over-exaggeration..." Heron cleared her throat nervously. She had not meant for her question to come out like it had. She knew that the Alphesses answer had probably hurt the she-wolf more than any rejection could have hurt Heron herself. The idea of frightening away the first company or even hurting anyone would be terrible for the kind hearted wolf.
"See, the question I was gunna ask was rather... more embarrassing on my part... See I be.. Totally lost. " Heron looked hard at a stone wall just over Rahiel's shoulder. The thought that a normal (relatively speaking) wolf, much less a warrior was lost was a fact that Heron would have mocked with all her sarcastic wit was a humbling fact. "See, it be the snow. My eyes have ne'er been what they were, and the endless white is kind’a disorienting... Throws my nose into a bought of rebelliousness too. I do'na know your lands very well..." Heron coughed....
"I was hopin' that once the blizzard cleared the bloody mountain, or when yah felt like bein' rid o' me yah could redirect me... somewhere..."
To divert some of the attention from that embarrassing truth Heron stretched, moving her front paw foreword and arching her back down just so... ah, that was perfect. The muscles in her back were screaming at the stretch, heat finally seeping back into their frozen centers. "Bloody weather... Makes me jealous of the Heus in their warm caves... Worth wiping the whole pack out for some o' that heat..."
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Post by Rahiel on Aug 27, 2009 14:28:38 GMT -5
Rahi winced as she heard the crack from Heron’s neck and sniffed the air. She could almost feel the pain, the physical pain. She was about to ask if she was okay but was cut off as Heron responded.
Rahiel knew she must have been foolish for thinking that Heron wanted to stay. Everybody knew the laws. Everybody. She forced a smile to her maw, though it did not quite reach her eyes, their crystal depths dimming slightly. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to turn her away from something she couldn’t do. It must have been her own vague hopes that she would have a pack again. For a moment, she wished she had been a hybrid instead of a pureblood. But that was not the way an Alphess should think . . . and she was going to be the best Alphess she could when everything seemed to have already fallen apart.
She laughed a little when Heron spoke of knowing more about the packs then they know about themselves and instantly though of River Wood and Amber Moor. The two were like a miscreant brother and book smart sister, constantly annoyed with each other but still needing the other without even knowing it. She suppose it was true about Sun Crest too; half the wolves probably never much about the species really functioned.
“I suppose you’re right about that Heron. Coming from the Outland seems to have taught you a great deal and yet it has shunned you so.”
The rest of what Heron had to say was obviously embarrassing, so Rahiel sat quiet and simply listened. It was perhaps a humbling fact for this tough warrior to know she had some sort of Achilles' heel. Rahi understood though, and she nodded consolingly. Not many could even find there way up the mountain in a snow storm as cold as it was and still live to tell the tale.
“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “In fact . . . it sounds as though the wind is lessening. That means the lowlands will be at least a twitch warmer. Though, as far as getting rid of you, the thought never crossed my mind. Your company is always welcome. I will escort you to the foothills myself, to the Raven Wing border if you like. Unless there is another place you wish to go to, when you are ready to move on.”
She used the time it took for Heron to stretch to listen to the sound of the dying wind. It wasn’t screaming anymore at least
Her ears flicked back to attention when she spoke about the Heus and Rahi’s whole body seemed to tense and then relax.
“The Heus can keep their plagued lands and grimy dens. They hibernate like bears and then kill like monsters.” She shook her head at the harshness in her voice and sighed heavily. “My father always said he thought they should do us all a favor and just learn to adapt. Do you suppose there are still Heus out there? I was sure most of them would have left. Besides, there wasn’t enough food this season to keep them alive, not many of them anyway.”
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Post by Heron on Sept 7, 2009 22:31:46 GMT -5
Herons body was finally working past the painful stage of defrosting, each muscle moving with a renewed vigor. She felt more like herself, here out of the wind and snow. Her body was ready to react to anything, and her warriors wit more at home when not worried about food and shelter.
She began to take in more of her surroundings, and what they meant. The cave was homey, though it bore the marks of sad under use, the emptiness more obvious then the presence of a full pack of rowdy males would have been.
"Poor gal... Trapped up here for so long. Its a sad fate for any wolf to be alone, more so for an alphess..." Alphas are not meant to be alone. A wolf like Heron could handle the absolute alone, but Alphas are meant to lead, to have people rely on them.
Heron tilted her head, one ear flopping straight up as she listened to Rahiel. She liked the sound of this wolf's voice... It was... calming, somehow. Heron listened carefully to the flowing ups and downs of Rahiels voice, marveling at the beauty compared to her own guttural speech.
Once again Heron found herself missing much of the conversation, and forced herself back into reality.
The Alphess's reaction to Herons comment on the caves surprised the warrior. She had known of the hatred between the two packs, and understood the reasons completely; but Rahiel had seemed like one who hated rarely, and almost never showed that hatred...
There was probably a darn good reason behind her reaction. The grownup, self respecting part of Heron knew that the Alphess deserved her privacy, and even needed it. However the much larger, immature, puppy-like part of Heron suddenly itched to know the story behind this lonely alphess.
With a hefty 'omph' (after letting Rahiel finish speaking) Heron settled herself comfortably on the stone floor, resting her head on her paws and rolling her eyes to look at the Alphess. She sighed, content enough out of the cold, and comfortable with her surroundings... Mostly.
"So tell me dearie... Whats the history behin' those sad eyes... Forgive mah directness, never learned much 'bout manners" She grinned, ignoring the fact that she was being rather rude, and settled in for the story...
Then there was an itch...
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Post by Rahiel on Sept 11, 2009 11:37:01 GMT -5
Rahi couldn’t help but grin as Heron seemed to relax in this new environment. She couldn’t help but have a great liking for the battered up warrior. She had never personally known an Outlander before, nor had anyone gained her interest so quickly. She hoped this friendship lasted with Heron, and wasn’t just a product of her severe loneliness kicking in.
It just felt good to be respected again.
Whats the history behin' those sad eyes...
Rahiel sighed and her smile fumbled. Her history? Had it been that obvious that, for lack of words, was really bad? Well . . . she had never really been one for masking emotions. She couldn’t lie to save her life (which in these times, could be bad) nor was she good at avoiding things she didn’t like. She shrugged slightly, feeling almost obligated. Partly because Heron had so willingly shared her past, but mostly because a part of her was sure that if she declined to, Heron would accept it, and this made Rahiel feel safe, at least.
“Well, my youth isn’t much interesting. I am . . . er, was. . . the daughter of a Beta pair. But my life after that last war . . .” she took a deep breath and gave a sad smile. “I suppose it’s about the same as everyone else’s. We all lost something, in the end, be it our lives, our dignity, a great love . . .”
She broke eye contact with Heron for perhaps the first time. It was to hard to speak directly to anyone about what had happened, including the wall, but she was going to at least give a little as to what happened. She was sure her sudden outburst had surprised Heron. Rahiel didn’t often let her anger show if she could help it.
Instead, she watched the past play out before her, as though it were happening again.
“I shouldn’t be an Alphess, for all its worth. I shouldn’t be leading anybody.” Ironically enough, she wasn’t. That’s what worried her. “I should still be back in the ranks, learning how to guide and protect and heal properly . . . but by the end of the war . . . I have no idea what was wrong with the Heus. The alphas had never acted like that before. They may be a blood thirsty breed but they aren’t dumb, they knew the odds were against them and that they couldn’t charge in like they did. But they did it anyway . . . and well, you know what happened. Mass chaos . . . on all our ends.
In our pack, we send out members of our packs to serves as guardians, which was just what the Heus wanted, weather to kill them or to persuade them to join their pack. It was why we died off so quickly; Sasriel against Sasriel. Families separated . . . my parents were some of the first to be killed. My brothers were next, until I took up residence, alone with the Alpha male, who had lost his mate and offspring. One by one, we watched our pack drop like flies . . . But to truly understand the hate I have towards them . . . I don’t even think I do. You see, my mate of two years, was taken by the Heus for some time . . . I thought him dead. Once I entered the fray myself . . . the time I injured my wings . . .I found him, and he had changed. He spoke about fighting for the better side and that the Heus knew the way. My brother made the mistake of attacking a Heus right in front of him and without even thinking twice about it . . .”
She closed her eyes, her voice cracking as she remembering the sight of her mate’s bloody maw lock on her brother’s throat. She had been too stunned to move, until someone knocked her out of the way and she gained her senses to move.
“He killed him.”
She shook her head, brushing a paw against her eyes.
“I was lucky to return in the shape I did. I had lost my mate and my brother. When the Alpha found me at the foot of the Mountain, he brought me home to heal me and then told me words I’d never thought I’d hear.
The packs are gone Rahi . . . and so, I must go too, and you must stay. As long as one Sasriel remains, this land is pure and protected. I name you, Alphess of Sun Crest. Good luck, daughter of Naliel, may the winds guide you through your darkest times.
I never will forget those words.”
Rahiel sighed heavily and stood again, looking around the empty caves, as though seeing again the pack members she had once called family, relatives and lost loves. Happy days, that she was not sure would ever return. Pricking her ears, she turned back to Heron.
“As Alphess now, I will also remain stricter. My kind are not born pure and innocent as the old tales may suggest. It is because of our pride and self centeredness that we lost our way. The Heus used it against us and turned brother against brother. Sasriels in my pack will be carefully questioned before ranked. I know I can’t keep all danger out, but I can try.”
She approached Heron again.
“If it hadn’t been for the Outlanders that day, things would have gone so much worse. I can not let it happen again.” Her eyes were like ice now, hardened and glossy from the memory. “You carry a piece of me with you, now Heron. In this short time I have known you, I have come to respect you as a close friend. Perhaps I ramble to much . . . you must understand, I was never used to be alone before now.”
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