Post by Chibiabos on Jan 14, 2010 2:49:34 GMT -5
Curling Creek
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Upon this strip of land the water changes once again, running off from the brook and slanting first to the east and then back to the west, creating a sharp corner of bank on the western side that leads into some thick undergrowth. The area, unlike most others, is fairly open - the creekside is clean and littered with gentle blades of short and sweet grass, creating something more akin to a beach than a forested waterway. A few large boulders left here long ago by the world changing are planted in various spots, providing both vantage points and sunning spots.
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Characters:
Survivor, Omega of Ute
Wyanet, Member of Ute
Maka, sister of Wyanet
Quidel, Pledgeling of Ute
Ixkin, Member of Ute
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It has been a day since the final page of the incident of Wanageeska and he left. Survivor has been sullen, strolling about at a slow pace, sniffing intently at this shrub or that flower. The male has not run, and often when encountering two Ute playing, he will sit at the periphery and watch. He has not been unfriendly, and has not been remiss in posturing himself submissively when he is near a packmate. Today, he is exploring the Ute territory by the Curling Creek. He sniffs the air, listens and looks for fellow Ute about.
'Hey!" Comes the voice of Wyanet as the timber wolf makes her way through the territory, tail swaying back and forth behind her quickly in a vicious snap. It appears that she has been out, and about, looking for the scarred wolf. Her ears are flattened back upon her skull, and her posture appears tense. With a deep breath, she beelines towards him, eyes narrowed. "You and I need to have a talk."
Survivor tucks his tail submissively. "Yes, Wyanet. What do you wish of me?" he asks submissively. Noticing her particularly upset posture, the scarred wolf drops to a flat huddle of the ground, then rolls over and curls his paws. With his neck stretched out, so accessibel and vulnerable, surely it must occur to Wyanet and tempt her to avenge the brutal deaths of cubs this murderer had confessed to.
"First of all, knock that crap off. If you got the stones to murder cubs, and attack cougars, then you don't have to pretend to be a little 'bitch' around me." Oh. Snap. Wyanet says as her voice tenses as she pauses before him. "I'm never going to get over what you told me that day. I'm going to carry that in my heart for the rest of my life. But, if you're going to stay here, and if you're going to be one of the pack, then I need to know that you're here for the long run, to redeem your soul, to make something of yourself. I also need to know that you're not a coward, and that you got my back, tooth and claw, if the worst comes for us. I can't have you turning tail, stuck in the past, scared of every twig snap."
Survivor rolls back over onto his paws, but does not get up. "It is because of what I did, Wyanet, that I cannot trust myself," he whines. "That pup in the packlands ... had only come here in search of his family. I intended no harm to him, but I did make him afraid for his life ... I cannot begin to describe how torn that makes me. What I did ... was no act of bravery. Killing isn't brave. Scars are not brave. My blood, my fangs and claws belong to you, and all that are Ute. I cannot make promises to you that I cannot keep, that I am steady and ready to make the right choices at the right time at my own. That is a strong reason why I can never rise, for however long I stay in Ute, above my current rank. If a threat appears, I will do my best on my own, but my fangs and claws will be far steadier and more ready when an Ute of good judgement is in command of them. If you had ... done as I had done ... could you ever trust your own judgement again ... ever?" he asks, trying to get her to understand.
Rolling her eyes upwards, Wyanet says, "Of course I could. We all make mistakes, you aren't the only killer here, Survivor. Sure, I maybe didn't tear little cubs apart in front of their mother, but I've taken my share of lives as well. The thing is, you have to forgive yourself, and you have to let yourself begin to heal, or else, you'll never be whole again. You're obviously a good wolf, as much as I hate to say that, because your actions sicken me, but, inside, you know what you did was wrong, and it's eating you up. That's fine. I forgive you, OK?" She says flatly to him, ears pinning back. "But you're being over dramatic. We can't very well trust you, if you act like a whiny pup, tail tucked, belly dragging everytime one of us walks by. You need to rebuild yourself. Do good things. Change our mind about you, and then, you'll be a healed wolf. It's ridiculous to act this way, when in reality, you're a strong wolf. If Luna wished to really punish you, she'd have been done with you by no
If Luna wished to really punish you, she'd have been done with you by now. But no, she gave you a second chance, and you're wasting it by acting like a moron, instead of a man. Man up, Survivor." She barks at him.
Survivor shakes his head. "I will do as you order, Wyanet, but neither you nor the Alphess have the authority to forgive what I did. I did not come here for forgiveness nor redemption, I am beyond those. I came here to find peace and understanding. I came to learn, know and understand. When someone calls me strong, that is torture because I know I am not. How many young and curious wolves do you think I have encountered, over the past year, who saw my scars and thought I must be a brave fighter? If you had done as I had done, and ... someone called you brave ... and you knew, how terribly, you were not ... every mistaken presumption of your bravery that your ears hear will torture you. I regret I have burdened you with the ugly truth, but ... it is part of who I am. I may not appear physically weak, but ... try to picture me as alpha. I can never make snap decisions of when to attack or hold my fangs, when to be merciful to an unruly member or intruder, and when to dispense harsh justice. I destroyed that part of myself ... long ago. There is no rank, above Omega, that could work for a wolf lacking good judgement ... especially in a pack that is about peace as much as Ute seems to be. If my feelings trouble you, then I will not speak of them, Wyanet ... but I cannot live by lies, and cannot offer you comfort that I can snap out of it and be just a normal wolf when I know that I cannot. Whatever my word is worth, I am committed to honesty for the remainder of my days."
Groaning loudly to herself, Wyanet is obviously frustrated, even more so as he speaks. "No one here is calling you brave, Survivor." She says simply enough as she settles back upon her strong haunches, ears flattening back against her skull. "I just think that you can be better than -this-, if you let the pain go, and started your life fresh." She furrows her brows, then asks, "What is your real name, wolf?" She asks.
Survivor grumbles. "Your tone when you asked me about my scars, before I gave my answer, told me you thought it might be a 'cool' story of somesort. I have been forbidden to speak of that life ... but as you know half of the story already, and have no ... innocence ... left in regards to it, to protect ... the name given to me by my mother, Alphess of the pack called Sun's Rise, was Courage. Rather ... ironic ... considering how I turned out."
"Well, my scar has a cool story behind it. I saved the life of Skelaghe, and her puppies, when a crazed wolf attacked her. I tore his throat out, I did so easily, and happily." Wyanet says as she cants her head towards him. "I made sure he squealed pretty loudly too. I let him go, let him wander off, and I went back for him once Skelaghe and the pups returned home." She intones, her voice quiet. "He begged me, Courage, he begged me and I didn't care. He told me he was joking. I humored with him a laugh, then I ended him." She says with a loud snort as she turns towards the grass once more. "I'm not innocent, I'm not spiritual. I'm not a 'good' wolf by any means." She lets that sink in for a moment, before giving her head a firm shake. "I want you to tell me the rest of your story, tomorrow." She says, then starts off through the grass.
Survivor snorts and snaps his head down as Wyanet called him 'Courage.' Its clear that, had he the judgement to, he never would have answered that direct question. Now she has an instrument of torture: his whelp-name! He looks after her. "THat, I cannot do, Wyanet, for I would violate my covenant with Skelaghe to never speak the story again to anyone in Ute. So long as you and I are both of Ute ..." he says, then looks away, across the border. "But ... if you must know the rest ... we could temporarily vagrant away, outside the border." <repose>
"It'll be our little secret then." Wyanet calls over her shoulder as she heads off through the grass, letting out a long yawn, before disappearing all together, leaving only her scent lingering behind in the brushes.
Survivor lays flatly on the ground as Wyanet leaves, tears now welling in his eyes. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be here, maybe he ... and the Ute, and all wolves of packs ... would be better off if he spent every last moment of whatever life he has left as a worthless vagrant.
~ ~ ~
Perhaps it is some stroke of good fortune that Maka has no idea about much of Ute's inner workings or the histories of its members. That's the bane and blessing of a newcomer. And... perhaps it is fortunate for others as well, at least in the fact that Survivor doesn't get a great deal of time to dwell on his own misery before the girl makes her way towards the water. She's hesitant at first, but then the thirst brings her closer, tail swaying at ease behind her. "Hello there." She offers, and does a quick little stutter-step to bypass the scarred wolf with only a glance. "You're Ute?" She asks briefly, nose twitching before she lowers her muzzle to take a few laps of water.
Survivor is caught off guard in his distraught state. He quickly paws at his muzzle, as though to scratch an itch, though the truth is he doesn't want the innocent to see his tears, for they then might ask why. He yawns, stretches and rises, as though he'd merely been napping, but he keeps himself submissvely postured, even to the young wolf. "Good day to you, miss," he woofs politely, managing to suck it up to swallow his pain for now. "I am a new pledgeling-omega of Ute," he says. "My name is Coo ... Survivor." Oh. My. Gods. Damn that Wyanet ...
While Maka may be young, she isn't unobservant. There are a hundred questions a more impetuous wolfling might ask of a scarred and distraught adult, but for the time being, she holds her tongue. Lifting her head, the girl laps the last bit of water from her muzzle and tilts her head. "That's a strange name." Her ears flip-flop, one up - one sideways as she tries to make sense of it. "Coo-sur-vi-vor." She says it as if it's all one long word, "Do you have a shorter name?" She finally asks, laughing softly to herself. "I'm Maka. Wyanet's sister."
Survivor's maw goes agape a bit at Maka's siblinghood. "Just Survivor," he says. "I ... just saw your sister ... just a minute before you happened along, in fact," he says, flicking his muzzle in the direction Wyanet had gone. "You are not Ute?" he asks, a bit surprised at the realization ... if she had been, surely she would have been told about Survivor by now.
"Is it so surprising that she has sisters? I'm just the youngest one, there are others you know..." Maka's head tilts in amusement, giving that floppy-eared look a second time as her muzzle twitches in a half-smile. Still, she sniffs, and looks off in the direction that her sister traveled as she gives a nod. "Mmm. I still haven't been shown much of the lands yet. Abel is supposed to show me later. So I'm okay with just staying around here." She settles to her haunches, leaning slightly to the side to use one hind leg to scratch at an itch on her neck. "I guess I am now. The alpha said I could stay, and Wya vouched for me, but I haven't really had introductions to the whole pack yet."
Survivor nods. "Same here ... though, of course, there is no one to vouch for me. Alphess knows all there is to know of me now, though," he remarks. "Do you suppose this Abel could show me around? I have ... already ... had difficulty, in not knowing who friend or foe of Ute is when I ... unknowingly ... allowed an intruder in a few days ago," he whines in frustration.
As her foot comes back down to the ground, the girl shakes the thick fur about her neck from side to side until it settles once more. "So you're a newcomer, too, huh?" She asks, although it's more of a statement than a question. Bobbing her head once, the young wolf seems to consider the scarred form of the omega curiously, but without the disgust or admiration others might respond with. "Well, Abel is one of the alpha's pups, my age, I guess." She offers, shrugging one shoulder upwards. "I think they only volunteered him to show me around because Wya seems intent on trying to fix us up or something." She leans forward towards the other wolf, still keeping a bit of distance between them. "Why not ask one of the males? There has to be more than just Abel and you, right? I'm sure they could show you the ropes, omega or no..."
Survivor says, "Oh," in response to the discovery that Abel's offer to give this young one a tour was a rather special situation. "I have encountered a couple Ute guards that could do the job, I suppose ... but at the time, we did not get to chat ... they responded when I howled an alarm when I realized the male I had let in was actually not Ute and an intruder. We were busy trying to track him down, but he was so stealthy, we were unable to follow his trail and wound up having to split up in the chase in the hopes one of us might come across him. I did not see those males again, unfortunately ... I think their names were Kezu and Hahtalekin. Do you know either of them?" he asks.
Maka listens with her ears perked forward, black-tipped tail twitching lightly against the ground in a rhythmic pattern. "There wasn't any trouble because of it, was there? I mean, did the intruder hurt anyone?" She doesn't seem quite so concerned over the intrusion as the aftermath. She lightly paws the ground beneath her, getting to her feet only to turn in a tight circle and then settle herself into a comfortable curled position. "I'm afraid not. I've met... the Alpha, Abel, Heath, and you." She motions towards him with her nose. "But I'm no intruder. You can verify my story with one sniff. I smell too much like Wya, I think. That's why I got as close as I did without anyone noticing."
Survivor shakes his head. "As it turns out, he had a mutual relation with the Alphess. He had not been raise by a pack ... by a normal pack ... that understands or respects pack territories nor a visitor's status and the respect demanded for pack members. His intrusion rattled nerves, including mine ... but ... fortunately, Ute was lucky I had not mistakenly let in someone with more evil intentions." Survivor shows signs of regret that he had been merely lucky as he mentions this. "At least you know Wyanet's name ... the intruder I had let slip in, did not know the name of any in the pack ... I feel very frustrated, not able to know friend from foe ... at the same time I feel, since I have been given status in the pack -- even a pledgeling-omega -- I have a duty to protect it. Judgement, experience, reason ... I unfortunately lack in these things." He gives the young lass a good sniffing. "I hope I do not frighten you, I certainly have no intention to attack," he tries to reassure.
"Not raised in a pack? How strange." Maka comments, seeming puzzled, and perhaps a little confused by the prospect. It was hard enough for wolf pups to survive in a pack, but without one? Still, she's young, and there's so much she doesn't know. "Perhaps it's best to send a howl if strangers cross your path wanting into the territory." She suggests, "Especially if you're not sure what their intentions are." She doesn't seem to mind when he checks her 'credentials', shaking her head at his worries over frightening her. "You don't frighten me." She hesitates, and then admits, "Well... maybe a little. I've never seen a wolf with so many scars before. It must have hurt an aweful lot." Miraculously, she doesn't ask about the source of the scars, stretching her forepaws out infront of her instead with a bit of a yawn.
Survivor shakes his head. "Not a ... pack ... like we know. Not like any I have ever heard of. Some ... empire, or kingdom, or something ... but not a pack." He says, "That's what I did, the first time, when I realized he was not Ute ... I howled ... that's when Kezu and Hahtalekin came to my aid. I thought we could easily track the intruder, but ... he seemed to leave no scent-trail at all. Somehow, his pack has developed secrets of stealth beyond anything I've ever heard of and can make their own scent-trails disappear, even when in a rushed retreat. Anyhoo ... when I encountered him a second time, I knew, then, I would not have time to wait for packmates to arrive to then go chase down the intruder, because he did not leave a scent-trail behind to follow ... I had to keep him in sight ... so I actively chased him alone, howled out on the way ... that time, it was the Alphess herself who came and resolved the situation. It was then it was discovered he was looking for a Ute member, I guess, who had died some time ago." He pauses in several long moments of silence at the mention of the scars, and unable to think of a 'safe' answer to give that was also honest, he fails to answer the young she-wolf's comment at all ... but is very silently grateful she does not ask for details on how he got them.
"... What?" This time, Maka's look of confusion shows no amusement in it, "There's no such thing as an animal with no scent. He probably covers it up somehow maybe." Her amber eyes seem troubled, perhaps trying to sort through the possibilities of such a thing. "So much I don't know." She finally sighs, folding her paws before her. "I guess I'll never know, if it's taken care of now." She almost seems a little disappointed by that, settling her head down onto her paws. "But for now, I'm afraid I need a bit of a rest. I've been traveling since before sun-up when I first caught Wyanet's scent." Her voice deepens a little as her muzzle stretches into a tongue-curling yawn. "Mmmrrmm." If she has anything else to say, it gets lost in her mumbling as her back leg splays out to one side, twitching slightly even before her eyes close.
~ ~ ~
Survivor is at the river's edge, lapping thirstily. The wolf had a far more pleasant encounter with Wyanet's younger sister than Wyanet herself ... but he knows that is his fault for exposing Wyanet to the true ugliness of his past. The new Ute pledgeling-omega decides the longer he puts off acquainting with the rest of the pack, the more likely he will face a similar situation as he had with the intruder, and be equally crippled by his unfamiliarity with his packmates to recognize friend versus stranger again.
The river is certainly a nice place to be. The gurgling creek almost sounds like it has a voice of its own, the sun glimmering through the trees and providing nice, sunny spots for relaxation and contemplation. Most surprisingly, however, the creek suddenly seems to actually *get* a voice of its own, smooth and resonant that flows over the rocks like the water itself. "Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows, And fair is the lily of the valley; Clear is the water that flows from the hills, but my love is fairer than any..." And around the corner comes the sleek, handsome form of Quidel, bobbing his head as he serenades the creek, the trees, and anyone who happens to be nearby. His eyes are closed as he feels his way around the bank, looking contented as anything, but keeps his nose to the wind... has he followed Survivor's scent here?
Survivor's ears perk at the poetry. The disfigured wolf cocks his head and remains silent, curious, before relaxing into a pleasant pant, still saying little, hoping to hear more poetry. Such sweetness!
Quidel says, "Come over the hills, my bonny canine lass, Come over the hills to your darling; You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow, and I'll be your true love forever..." Quidel's voice wavers and falls away as he approaches the stranger, opening his eyes once he's a good few feet away. "Hmm," he says, tilting his head curiously. "Another stranger come to Ute. We have been getting a great deal of those, and I must admit I am just one... but forgive my trivial prattling." He stands up tall, confronting the newcomer like a proper wolf should. "You are at the borders of a pack's lands, sir! I am afraid I must forgo etiquette and ask you to promptly identify yourself.""
Survivor closes his eyes and bobs his head. "Of course," he woofs. "I am Survivor, and have pledged to Skelaghe -- and she has accepted -- my pledge to serve Ute. I am, in fact, now Ute myself ... though, of course, being a pledgeling, on a probationary basis for now." He keeps himself submissive to the other wolf. "There is much of the pack and its territory ... in fact, the vast majority of it, that I have yet to meet or see, so I apologize for my false presumption that Skelaghe had passed the word and most of the pack would already know that an easily-recognized scarred wolf had been granted pledgemanship." He adds, "And ... please do not ask me to forgive your sweet poetry, as I rather enjoy it."
"Hmm." Quidel regards the wolf with a very plainly flattered look. "I have had several compliments of that nature since I came here. Perhaps, instead of Errant, I should be called Songster around here... that seems to be all anyone expects this appetent Errant to do around here anyway." He rolls his slim shoulders in a shrug. "But it's nice, at least, that the Ute enjoy what I'm good at. Welcome, then, probational Survivor," he says with a smirk. "How come you to this place in your vagabond sojourn? We haven't had good experience with visitors, or so I'm told."
Survivor's pleasant demeanor drops for a moment at the last. "I am not a good visitor, I'm afraid, but ... sinners need a refuge, a place of peace, to reflect and learn the true joys of a wolf's life that they have passed on." He brightens his posture. "You are why I came here, actually. The singers, the poets, the creative hearts ... the lovers, the romantics. I did not value these things when I was young and reckless ... but now I realize they have a lot more meaning than being the toughest warrior. You provide the difference between being a survivor, and being someone who lives a life. As for what actually brought me here ... I could not tell you. But ... I believe it was fate. I believe ... I hope ... my wanderings are at an end, that ... that what remains of my life will be learning the peace and love that exists here, that my evil, old heart might have another opportunity to live here, and I will have something to take with me, when my time comes, besides guilt and shame."
Quidel remains silent throughout the wolf's monologue, a guarded and careful expression on his face. He turns his head and stares at him out of the corner of his eye. "A pentitent sinner hoping to find redemption?" he asks with a sly smile. "Well. There's plenty of sin been going on here as well, I'm afraid." He drops onto his stomach, crossing his paws lazily in front of him. "A boy who won't respect his mother, a vile rapscallion *dog*," he spits the word like it's a curse, "that roams our borders the Alpha won't let us vanquish, and discord all through the pack." He sighs. "As someone who is looking for a good place like you, sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake coming here. But don't let me blacken your perceptions. All packs have their bad times, as I know all too well..."
Survivor frets a bit as the singer curses the word 'dog.' "I'd never heard of dog, nor smelled nor seen one, until I came here. Could you, sweet singer, tell me why dog is vile to you?" he asks. "Why would a dog's presence make this not a good place? Why would a dog have any less worth or ability to be good than a wolf?"
"Because, for one, dogs are our little cousins that have been far too close to Men for their own good," Quidel explains as though he were a teacher running a lecture, looking over his paws and wiping dirt off them in the grass. "I don't have anything against dogs. But apparently, this one is... for lack of a better word, deranged. I don't know the specifics. But he did something terrible involving Skelaghe, and now... well. Some of the pack want to hunt him down. But Skelaghe refuses for whatever reason. I don't know. I do not try and insert myself into the personal business of others, and nobody has come to me for help. So I remain here, distressed and without direction. It's a sad state of affairs, sir."
Survivor snorts. "You should not be so quick to demean or condemn. I do not think any around here have ever done worse than I have, and what I did was so horrible, that upon confessing my crime to Skelaghe, she forbade me to ever poison another Ute with the story of it again, and so I shan't ... but trust me, nothing done by this dog could be worse than my crime. We are all living beings. We all start young and helpless, and we all grow up wanting to someday become parents, so that our lives will continue in the memories of others, and our ways will survive through out progeny many generations into our descendants ... but while that sounds glorious and harmonious, the simple fact is not all of us can achieve this, but all of us will try. Just as we predators make our prey strong, by taking out the ill and feeble, leaving only the strong to survive and thus the strongest of them will live to have their children ... so to is it for us, but no one readily quits. Wolfkind had developed this way since the very first wolves, and that which distinguishs wolfkind from other predators -- the ways of the Wolf pack -- evolved into being in a similar fashion. We challenge ourselves, the struggle for dominance, to be alpha, to mate and have cubs ... it is a messy, competitive friction with so many going toward the goal that has only enough room for a single pair. It is built into our very fur and muscle, a part of our being, that we seek it. Unless the one you speak of has tried to kill innocents, it would be wrong to seek to kill him nor even wish for his death. While our traditions hold only the alphas will have young, that does not mean those who did not achieve that should are worthless. Whether its a dog or a wolf, or a cougar or other being ... they have a life, don't they? And ... even if they were a bit unusual, had trouble getting along ... doesn't the more ill the will thrust upon them, by others such as yourself, only serve to derange them further?"
"Myself?" Quidel asks in a low, suddenly almost dangerous tone of his voice. For a probational visitor he's quickly getting irksome, talking like that. "Survivor... you won't survive much longer talking like *that.* Like I said. I don't have anything personal against him. If the *pack* deems him unworthy of hanging about, then I will run him off and not feel the guiltier for it. Even kill him if I must. Trust me. He did *not* make us stronger," he says, leveling a glare at that scarred face of Survivor's. "The mere mention of him seems to bring out only anger. Perhaps I am overstepping my boundaries and speaking of things I don't know. But whatever the case, this is a *problem.* And as romantic as I am I know problems need solving. *Not* coddling." He's even standing up again, reasserting his dominance as a senior (if only just) member of the pack. "What Skelaghe decides is what I will do." And then he seems to lose some of his bluster. "If she would ask me anything, that is."
Survivor says, "Maybe I am, but ... I have killed. And I can tell you, having killed, that killing is never an answer. A wolf is never stronger for having killed. Regrettably, sometimes it is necessary ... we must hunt for survival, sometimes we must stand and fight if a cougar or bear or a wolf of deadly intent attacks ... but killing someone you have a disagreement with is not a victory. Whatever this dog has done, I assure you I have done worse. If anyone should be hunted and killed, it should be me."
"Well." Quidel shrugs, somewhat indifferently. "What you have done is obviously not enough to keep you from being accepted here. What this Vincent is guilty of is obviously *something* worse, or Skelaghe would not be in such a tizzy. Sounds reasonable enough, yes?" he asks, pacing a couple times in front of the wolf. "Whatever the case, it needs resolving immediately. Or we'll simply keep going and wolves will get angry and..." He shakes his head. "I know what happens when a pack fragments. I don't want to see it happen here. But don't expect your advice to fall on ears as open as mine. Or even be noticed," he says with a shake of his head. "I haven't got a chance to speak with anyone since this started."
Survivor answers, "I put Alphess in a 'tizzy' as well. It was difficult, keep my past to myself and spare Her the taint of knowing or impart to her what I feared, whatever the consequences, she must know of me. I chose the latter. I must not sin again, even if 'good intentions' mix with a selfish desire to hide from my past. I would hope you would go to great lengths and make honorable sacrifices to keep yourself from wishing ill of others ... but that is not something I can compel you nor anyone to do, for that would be evil preaching of good. I do hope you will take every pause you must, though, to seek amends with this one you feel ill toward. I have not been here long, but I have great faith already in Skelaghe's strength and wisdom."
"Well, let's stop with the whole 'who's past is worse' thing, yes? It just leads into interminable discussions that don't do anyone any good," Quidel says with a shrug. "We have a good deal of talking to do, but everyone seems to stubborn to just get on with it. And I *do* wish, sir, that you would cease casting aspersions on my own ability to forgive and forget. It's starting to make you sound pedantic." He rolls his eyes and looks off at the distant forest. "If it weren't for the task I was given I think I should've left at this point, to be honest."
Survivor shakes his head. "That's because harboring fear, loathing and hatred is so pointless, and I have great cause to know this very well. I will shut up, if you desire, but it will not change my wish nor perception. I have no ability nor authority to get you to reconsider. I believe I am much better off for your presence in Ute, and it is for that selfish reason that I hope you find an excuse to stay beyond obligation to a duty you do not truly enjoy."
Quidel sighs and droops his head and ears. "No, no, cease, please, it's my own frustration that keeps this conversation going." He begins to stalk back up the riverbank. "I should be agreeing with you on all counts, sir, but after a few days of... *this*... it starts to wear on the nerves. Forgive me for being disagreeable. And..." He halts, glancing over his shoulder with glittering green eyes. "... yes, I do not really enjoy *this* duty either. I'm supposed to be watching over another wolf here, but she keeps not being where I can do that. Most confounding." He turns back and continues walking, wondering if Survivor will follow.
Survivor comments, "I was .. confounded ... myself, trying to help my new packmates dealing with a very elusive intruder. Quite clever, that intruder, I still don't know how he eluded us ... fleeing whilst leaving no scent trail at all that Kezu, Hahtalekin nor myself could find. I realized long ago, there will always be a stronger warrior, or a more cunning one ... but still hard to believe how adept some are." He seems a bit indecisive as to whether or not to follow, so he finally asks, "Would it be okay if I followed you? I promise ... I'll shut up."
"What?" Quidel says, stopping and looking over his shoulder at Survivor with a sharp expression. "There was an intruder here?" He turns away and sighs deeply. "So that's it then. Things happen, just when I'm never around..." He rolls his eyes. It's hard to keep up a good vocabulary when you're so down about things. They're going to start thinking he's useless if he doesn't show up more often. "Come on, then." And he keeps walking, in a vaguely northeast direction.
Survivor nods. "He proved to be harmless, fortunately, aside from the unnecessary ruckus I stirred up in calling in alarm. He was on a mission of some sort to find someone in the pack whom, from what Skelaghe said, died some time ago."
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Creek Overhang
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The ground rises here, making a small cliff that hangs a few feet over the river below. The ledge drop-off is wide and sturdy, supported by the packed earth of the riverbank, and able to hold the weight of even the largest of creatures. The overhang is somewhat secluded, making for a peaceful place to just lay in the grass, listen to the singing birds, and watch the trickling creek nearby.
___
Quidel has lead Survivor here on a rather meandering course, sometimes talking, sometimes not, along the stream until they reach the overhang. Quidel goes right up to the ledge and looks down. "I like to come here and introspect," he admits blithely. "The setting makes a poet's soul take flight, if I may be trite," he says with a smile, looking around at the peaceful scene. Birds sing nearby and the sun is a little more intense at this time of day, making for quite striking sunbursts. "I love to sing here."
Survivor listens, for a refreshing change, reflecting. He hovers a moment at the overhang, looking down at his reflection upon the rippling surface of the current. "I think I will probably be spending a lot of time here, myself," he comments. "Hopefully without disturbing others." He finally breaks from his gaze upon his own reflection.
If you talk as much about morality as you did me, that may be a vain hope, Quidel thinks, but doesn't say aloud. He's just in a foul mood that he hasn't gotten to prove himself a useful member of the pack. A rather sublime look develops on his face, and then he hums, getting a tune, before pursing his lips and... "Idle days in summertime, In pleasant sunny weather, amidst the golden colour'd corn, two lovers passed together. There were words they did not speak to give their thoughts expression, each knew the other's heart was full, but neither made confession..."
Survivor closes his eyes as Quidel begins a new poem. Not asleep, certainly, but ... he seems to shut out as much of his physical senses as he can to imbibe in the imagery.
It's a simple, pleasant song, like something you'd sing if you were having a long, slow day and just sunning on a rock. His voice floats pleasantly down from the overhang to any ears nearby capable of listening. "Winter came, and then, alas, came cold and dreary weather. No more the lovers passed their days amid the fields together... Fate had severed them apart and now they're brokenhearted. If they were mates in summertime... they would not now be parted..." The simple, folksy song drops away over the ledge like so much water into the soil. "This place reminds me of young love, apparently," Quidel murmurs with a smirk. "How fickle it can be."
Survivor wurf-chuckles as the song ends, at Quidel's self-commentary. Only then does he re-open his eyes. "If it always strummed your heart the same way, you'd constantly sing the same song, the same way ... and then your packmates would tire of it," he laughs easily. It seems the youth's song does, in fact, resonate with the disfigured wolf. At least he's not rambling preachiness now!
"Well, we agree on that much at least," Quidel replies, adding a gracious nod of his head. "I had a couple of periods in my life that involved such... fleeting feelings. They ended quickly enough," he continues, looking a mite sad. "When... I had to leave, of course. But, no looking back unless you want to fall into yet another hole in life, eh?"
Survivor shakes his head. "If you always had the same feeling, you wouldn't be able to appreciate it, even if the feeling was 'good.' You know love strongest when you've felt fear or hate." He sniffs at the singer. "Those feelings may seem fleeting because they were with you for so short a time ... but they are still with you. That's why you sing of them. They're part of who you are."
"Oh. I know hate and fear much better than love, I'm afraid, Survivor," Quidel says with a nod. "It's why I sing of love. Because I did know it, for... such a short time. I wish to know it again, some day. Not any day soon, I suspect," he mutters with a shrug. "But who knows? Maybe one day my singing will conjure up a fair maiden drawn by the sound of my beautiful harmonies," he says with a theatrical toss of his head.
Survivor laughs. "When you do find love, even just fleeting, it will be all the sweeter than if you had love your entire life and never not known it."
"That's true enough as well. You have a good deal of wisdom, sir," Quidel says with a nod. "It's rather hard to feel the love around here, though. By chance if you find a wolf named Ixkin, tell her I'm looking for her."
Survivor nods. "I will. Thank you ... for sharing your song with me," he says, sensing Quidel might be tiring of his company.
~ ~ ~
Survivor lays over the edge of the Overhang, his forepaws drooping to suspend in the air, and reflects upon his shadow at the bottom of the creek, and his reflection distorted on its moving surface.
Quidel is still sitting nearby, surprisingly, in something of a silent vigil. He watches the water flow by, indifferently, as his eyes are on the forest. Security duty for this wolf, yes sir. Nothing will get by these two. His normally cheerful, vivacious eyes watch the forest around him intently, ears perked up to their full height, twisting and turning with each bird's chirp, gurgle of water, snap of twig. No more intruders today.
Survivor closes his eyes several moments and rests his head upon the rock. He might seem to be going to sleep, but he isn't ... he listens to the trickle of the creek with his ears, the chirps of the birds and the humm of a nearby hummingbird.
Hum. Hummingbird. Humming. Quidel starts to hum. Gentle, low, and deep. It's a slow, lazy song for a slow, lazy day. It rises and falls like the hummingbird as it jumps up and down, trying to find a good place to hover and taste delicious nectar. "Hmm hmmm... la da ta, da da da..." Quidel murmurs, tapping his paw to an unheard rhythm.
Ixkin moves silently along the edge of the cliff her eyes fixed ahead. The sound of the humming birds barely cause her ears to twitch as she comes to a stop and carefully turns to look out over the river. Unaware of the others not far from her position she has kept a distance from the pack in general for a reason. Though now was the time to slowly make her way back to the living.
Survivor daydreams a bit, though he isn't fully asleep, and before he knows it, the singer's hums hae drawn in his own hums. He doesn't even notice as his voice follows behind less and less, and even starts to harmonize with Quidel's. He's nowhere near alert enough, now, to notice the approaching Ixkin.
Quidel looks over at Survivor with a small smile, shaking his head as he keeps on humming, apparently mixing with the birds farther out. Unlike Survivor, he's still got his wits about him, and can see Ixkin approaching from afar. He watches and waits in silence. Perhaps he should howl. But that would be a little too forward, maybe. "Someone's coming," he says instead to the other male. "I think... it's her."
Ixkin just stares for a few minutes and then begins her walk again. Out in the distance she notices two males, one in which she recalls meeting briefly once and the other is a mystery. Moving in their direction slowly ears laying back, "Hey..." she calls once in better earshot. Stopping a comfortable distance from them. "Anyone seen Skelaghe?"
Survivor keeps humming, several long moments after Quidel has stopped and even spoken. "Wha ... huh?" he woofs suddenly, opening his eyes several -long- moments after Quidel had tried to alert him. He shakes his head and looks and listens about. He has not seen this female before. "I last saw her ..." he starts, then tries to think. "Yesterday, actually. I think she was headed toward the dens ... I am Survivor," he introduces himself, rising to his paws, causing his scarred hide with large patches of fur missing to be more in view. He keeps his tail tucked under himself. "I am a new pledgeling to Ute and not permitted near the dens, so I do not know if she is still there."
"Quidel. I believe our eyes met at least once before," he says with a flashy smile, and a low bow before the female. Always good to put your best paw forward when you want to make a good impression. "It's a pleasure to encounter you again, my lady, but I too have not seen Skelaghe. I believe I smelled her further downstream not long ago, but I don't know where she has been since. Forgive my ignorance."
The wolfess dips her head low to them both instincively going into a more submissive position. "I am Ixkin. One of the original Ute packmembers and also member of this one." The marking of the sun on her shoulder is the same as Skelaghe which proves they have history. "Nice to meet you both and welcome to the pack."
Survivor gives the Tobba an odd regard. "There was another about with that, besides Skelaghe, I mean," he says, looking to Quidel. "That ... intruder ... I mentioned, who wouldn't follow pack protocol by waiting at the border ... he had one of those." He looks back to the female. "I belive he, and Skelaghe herself, called them Tobbas ...?" he asks if he got the pronounciation right.
Quidel tilts his head politely. "I too am of Ute. An Errant, I think I was named. But thank you for the salutations anyway. It's good to meet someone who can, at least, attempt to put on a genuinely friendly face," he says with a handsome smile. He looks between the two of them when the Tobba, whatever, that is, is mentioned. "Do you mean the marking on her shoulder?" he asks curiously. "Forgive me, my lady, I am still lacking in knowledge of my adoptive pack. I wish to rectify this with prompt education."
Ixkin nods her head turning so they can see the marking. "Tobba... But it is not going to be required of the new pack." Turning to face them again looking between them both while settling to her haunches. "My brother was the alpha of the former pack but I was sort of the quiet one. I was the mate of the omega then and not many was very fond of my choice. But then the sickness began to spread over the pack. Many of us lost family and loved ones. For a while I was seperated from helaku and Skelaghe but since reunited with them.. well.. now with just Skelaghe." she doesn't comment one another being seen with the marking. She hardly remembers many of the old pack anymore.
Survivor nods to Quidel's question. "Yeah, that mark ... is a symbol, I gather. Skelaghe, and ... Wanageeska?" he asks to himself, hoping he got the lad's name at least close, "... tried to explain it to me, but ... its something you have probably understood for a long time, am I right?" he guesses this question to Ixkin. "Where as I am just getting fumbling grasps. My whelp-pack ... had a relatively simple belief system. We believe in a single goddess, Luna, symbolized in the realm by the moon itself, who watches over us."
"Mine believed something similar," Quidel says, raising his eyebrows with surprise. "Or at least they spoke of Luna with the same reverence. Funny how things seem to be consistent like that," he remarks. He turns his piercing green eyes back to Ixkin. "I can only hope, my lady, that we live up to the esteem you obviously held your former packmates in. This one, at least," he says, putting a paw to his chest, "swears to do all that he can for Ute."
Ixkin tilts her head at the name mentioned. Not one that she knows right off, "I am sure you both do fine." she smiles politely. "It is a new beginning for all of us. I hope you both feel free to call on me if you ever need anything."
Survivor concurs with Quidel. "My blood, my fangs and my claws are committed to the service of Ute. May the peace here bring happiness and prosperity to all in Ute, and may the honor and wisdom of the Alphas guide us all." Survivor has /still/ not met the alpha male, however.
"Yes," Quidel says, nodding in agreement with Survivor. "If it is anyone who should be in service to anyone, it is us, and especially I," Quidel exclaims, dropping to a more submissive posture. "I am here to facilitate the acquisition of any needs you or this pack may have. I am an Errant, after all. Do you think that sets some kind of precedent?" he asks with a smile and a wag of his tail. "I don't remember any such position in my previous pack, but I like the sound of it!"
Ixkin lifts her shoulders into a shrug, "I don't ever recall that position myself." she admits though figures she must also be something like it. Releasing a sigh going into thought for the moment. "Skelaghe is our only alpha." looking off that is really /all/ she plans to speak about on the matter of the 'alphas'.
Survivor sits silently. So, it seems, he is at the passing of an era ... he dares not speak it, but he knows the lone remaining alpha partner, especially one so ... advanced ... will not be alpha for long. He hasn't known Skelaghe for long, but ... it already makes him uncomfortable. She is eminently wise, gracious to the undeserving ... and one of the only two in the pack who knows his truth. She had made him vow to never repeat his story within the pack, but ... if she is replaced, shouldn't the new alpha know who it is they lead? Survivor ponders this all with one of his typical gazing-in-the-distance, lost-in-thoughts looks he often gets. "I am really not appropriate to any position but Omega," he finally states, simply. "Regardless of how long I stay."
Quidel glances about uncomfortably when things get a little more somber. "Well. That's no reason to think the pack has no future. Nor that we have no future in the pack!" he says, lifting his chin proudly. "After all. *I* certainly plan on doing nothing but supporting this place. On my honor I will. Hmm? I know I didn't survive this long just to see a pack lose faith in itself."
Ixkin can't help but stare at Survivor after making the statement of never being appropriate for anything better than omega. The words do remind her of her former mate which she lost in the old lands. He felt much the same way but it didn't make her love him any less. "Don't day that. I don't know your story or why you have this position. But it is my belief that a title is not what defines you nor is anyone condemned to such a status of life."
Survivor smiles at the lass. "Don't worry about it. I am not here to feel sorry for myself. My mere presence here is more than I've earned, though ... at any packmate's command, I will provide my full ferocity in its defense, but that's a little like breathing. The spirit, the soul, the hearts of my packmates ... that is what I am here for." He looks between Quidel and Ixkin. "I do not fear for the pack's future ... au contrare, I believe Ute has yet to see its best days. My heart yearns to be warmed, and it will indeed be quite warmed to be able to witness the peace and love that I have already come to understand are what Ute is all about. If you think of me, though, and you wonder what worth I have ... think of the most vile, evil being in your life who has done you the most harm. I am lower than them. I gravely regret my actions, but that does not make me a whole, decent wolf again ... those I hurt left me to judge myself." He sighs a bit, knowing his speeches tend to really rub others the wrong way. "I will share in this pack's joys, but ... I can never be appropriate to lead, not anyone. If you have no real sense of that, spend some time with me and you soon will. I can't reason nor judge well. I'm no weakling nor coward to shy away from a fight, but ... it must always be up to others and never up to me on /whether/ to fight."
Quidel sighs to himself, looking off to the side. Everyone was so darn melancholy around here. "Well why do you say that?" he asks Survivor, nudging him with his shoulder. "You're the one who told me you came here looking for absolution. If you don't reach for it you certainly won't acquire it. It's like going on a hunt and then refusing to land the killing blow," he jibes. "Anyone can rise above their station," he says sudden, surprising fervor, his back arching and his eyes flashing. *He* should know all about being hated for his status.
Ixkin ears lay back to her skull as she listens. "The past is what it is." she for one is not going to judge anyone by it. No matter what they have done - even if it was murder. Rising to her paws she slowly approaches to the free side of Survivor as long as it doesn't send her off the cliffside. "Chin up ok? You have friends here."
Survivor snorts. "I am afraid I miscommunicated, if you are under the impression I seek or believe I could even achieve absolution. That is not my goal. I simply wish to indulge in the other ways of the wolf, outside of killing ... to embrace your songs and poetry in my heart, the tenderness of lovers, the in-tune-ness of the spirits. Hunting, defending, killing ... that's survival. The only wisdom I have is that I have no wisdom, and there are wolves who devote an incredible amount of their souls to its persuit that, even were I a fresh-whelped pup, would have a tough time catching up to in terms of undersanding, seeing the bigger picture. Alphaship is for the wise and prideful. Why should it be such a problem that I do not persue it?" he asks Quidel. "You need not worry about me as a rival in its persuit. There are probably better challengers in the pack anyway, even if I was interested. There's more to a wolf than competing against others and seeking a glorious goal." Looking back to Ixkin, he smiles again. "Of course there are, and ... I am already feeling the beginnings of friendships. I need not be alpha to enjoy friendships in the pack."
Quidel sighs again. "I never mentioned Alphaship. You depreciate yourself too much, is all I am saying," Quidel says. "No need for a long discourse on the nature of pack hierarchy," he says with a wry smile. "And I do not have ambitions to be a leader myself. I am most content with being a... civil servant of the pack." He glances off to the side ruefully. "Alphaship is what got me in trouble the last time anyway..."
Ixkin very lightly and shyly places a nose to Survivor's shoulder. "Everyone thought I might take up Alphaship once my brother died but.. I am no leader but have always been the submissive one. I accept my place in life. It is where I feel safe and at peace. I consider the pack as my family, everyone is family to me." she smiles.
Survivor shakes his head. "I don't believe omegaship to be demeaning at all. Having reflected on my actions, it did not take me long to realize I was all about pride, about seeking glory, about being 'better' than anyone else, about making a name for myself that would make me famous throughout the ages. I know its difficult to imagine, but ... just accept I cannot make good decisions, and combine that with an at-least average ability to be lethal, and run the possibilities. A mis-judgement on my part could kill another innocent. Its easy enough for me to think, even over-think, when I am calm. What happens in the heat of the moment? A normal contest for a position could go wrong ... so why not simply abstain from it? The pack is better off without my attempt to gain rank or title, and I assure you, I am content just being here." He nods to Ixkin. "I have not known Skelaghe long at all, but ... the moment I met her, I knew this is not an easy time for her. My praise of Ute's peace and love, earlier, does not mean I am blind to its challenges and strife. I also know that, with her mate having passed ... and the reality of her age ... by next breeding season, it is difficult to imagine that she will still be able to cling to the position, and ... for as short of a time as I have known her, my only arriving on the scene here at the end of what has undoubtedly been an incredible era ... that bothers me. I have not met even half the Ute yet, but ... I cannot fathom any holding the power of her wisdom, and her leadership is incredibly sharp and strong. I have felt moments of peace here, already, that I have not felt since I was a wee lad. I wish to be close to all of Ute, for each to know me ... as I am now, anyway. Ute has incredible diversity, and I have faith my uniquenesses can be acclamated to over time."
___
Upon this strip of land the water changes once again, running off from the brook and slanting first to the east and then back to the west, creating a sharp corner of bank on the western side that leads into some thick undergrowth. The area, unlike most others, is fairly open - the creekside is clean and littered with gentle blades of short and sweet grass, creating something more akin to a beach than a forested waterway. A few large boulders left here long ago by the world changing are planted in various spots, providing both vantage points and sunning spots.
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Characters:
Survivor, Omega of Ute
Wyanet, Member of Ute
Maka, sister of Wyanet
Quidel, Pledgeling of Ute
Ixkin, Member of Ute
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It has been a day since the final page of the incident of Wanageeska and he left. Survivor has been sullen, strolling about at a slow pace, sniffing intently at this shrub or that flower. The male has not run, and often when encountering two Ute playing, he will sit at the periphery and watch. He has not been unfriendly, and has not been remiss in posturing himself submissively when he is near a packmate. Today, he is exploring the Ute territory by the Curling Creek. He sniffs the air, listens and looks for fellow Ute about.
'Hey!" Comes the voice of Wyanet as the timber wolf makes her way through the territory, tail swaying back and forth behind her quickly in a vicious snap. It appears that she has been out, and about, looking for the scarred wolf. Her ears are flattened back upon her skull, and her posture appears tense. With a deep breath, she beelines towards him, eyes narrowed. "You and I need to have a talk."
Survivor tucks his tail submissively. "Yes, Wyanet. What do you wish of me?" he asks submissively. Noticing her particularly upset posture, the scarred wolf drops to a flat huddle of the ground, then rolls over and curls his paws. With his neck stretched out, so accessibel and vulnerable, surely it must occur to Wyanet and tempt her to avenge the brutal deaths of cubs this murderer had confessed to.
"First of all, knock that crap off. If you got the stones to murder cubs, and attack cougars, then you don't have to pretend to be a little 'bitch' around me." Oh. Snap. Wyanet says as her voice tenses as she pauses before him. "I'm never going to get over what you told me that day. I'm going to carry that in my heart for the rest of my life. But, if you're going to stay here, and if you're going to be one of the pack, then I need to know that you're here for the long run, to redeem your soul, to make something of yourself. I also need to know that you're not a coward, and that you got my back, tooth and claw, if the worst comes for us. I can't have you turning tail, stuck in the past, scared of every twig snap."
Survivor rolls back over onto his paws, but does not get up. "It is because of what I did, Wyanet, that I cannot trust myself," he whines. "That pup in the packlands ... had only come here in search of his family. I intended no harm to him, but I did make him afraid for his life ... I cannot begin to describe how torn that makes me. What I did ... was no act of bravery. Killing isn't brave. Scars are not brave. My blood, my fangs and claws belong to you, and all that are Ute. I cannot make promises to you that I cannot keep, that I am steady and ready to make the right choices at the right time at my own. That is a strong reason why I can never rise, for however long I stay in Ute, above my current rank. If a threat appears, I will do my best on my own, but my fangs and claws will be far steadier and more ready when an Ute of good judgement is in command of them. If you had ... done as I had done ... could you ever trust your own judgement again ... ever?" he asks, trying to get her to understand.
Rolling her eyes upwards, Wyanet says, "Of course I could. We all make mistakes, you aren't the only killer here, Survivor. Sure, I maybe didn't tear little cubs apart in front of their mother, but I've taken my share of lives as well. The thing is, you have to forgive yourself, and you have to let yourself begin to heal, or else, you'll never be whole again. You're obviously a good wolf, as much as I hate to say that, because your actions sicken me, but, inside, you know what you did was wrong, and it's eating you up. That's fine. I forgive you, OK?" She says flatly to him, ears pinning back. "But you're being over dramatic. We can't very well trust you, if you act like a whiny pup, tail tucked, belly dragging everytime one of us walks by. You need to rebuild yourself. Do good things. Change our mind about you, and then, you'll be a healed wolf. It's ridiculous to act this way, when in reality, you're a strong wolf. If Luna wished to really punish you, she'd have been done with you by no
If Luna wished to really punish you, she'd have been done with you by now. But no, she gave you a second chance, and you're wasting it by acting like a moron, instead of a man. Man up, Survivor." She barks at him.
Survivor shakes his head. "I will do as you order, Wyanet, but neither you nor the Alphess have the authority to forgive what I did. I did not come here for forgiveness nor redemption, I am beyond those. I came here to find peace and understanding. I came to learn, know and understand. When someone calls me strong, that is torture because I know I am not. How many young and curious wolves do you think I have encountered, over the past year, who saw my scars and thought I must be a brave fighter? If you had done as I had done, and ... someone called you brave ... and you knew, how terribly, you were not ... every mistaken presumption of your bravery that your ears hear will torture you. I regret I have burdened you with the ugly truth, but ... it is part of who I am. I may not appear physically weak, but ... try to picture me as alpha. I can never make snap decisions of when to attack or hold my fangs, when to be merciful to an unruly member or intruder, and when to dispense harsh justice. I destroyed that part of myself ... long ago. There is no rank, above Omega, that could work for a wolf lacking good judgement ... especially in a pack that is about peace as much as Ute seems to be. If my feelings trouble you, then I will not speak of them, Wyanet ... but I cannot live by lies, and cannot offer you comfort that I can snap out of it and be just a normal wolf when I know that I cannot. Whatever my word is worth, I am committed to honesty for the remainder of my days."
Groaning loudly to herself, Wyanet is obviously frustrated, even more so as he speaks. "No one here is calling you brave, Survivor." She says simply enough as she settles back upon her strong haunches, ears flattening back against her skull. "I just think that you can be better than -this-, if you let the pain go, and started your life fresh." She furrows her brows, then asks, "What is your real name, wolf?" She asks.
Survivor grumbles. "Your tone when you asked me about my scars, before I gave my answer, told me you thought it might be a 'cool' story of somesort. I have been forbidden to speak of that life ... but as you know half of the story already, and have no ... innocence ... left in regards to it, to protect ... the name given to me by my mother, Alphess of the pack called Sun's Rise, was Courage. Rather ... ironic ... considering how I turned out."
"Well, my scar has a cool story behind it. I saved the life of Skelaghe, and her puppies, when a crazed wolf attacked her. I tore his throat out, I did so easily, and happily." Wyanet says as she cants her head towards him. "I made sure he squealed pretty loudly too. I let him go, let him wander off, and I went back for him once Skelaghe and the pups returned home." She intones, her voice quiet. "He begged me, Courage, he begged me and I didn't care. He told me he was joking. I humored with him a laugh, then I ended him." She says with a loud snort as she turns towards the grass once more. "I'm not innocent, I'm not spiritual. I'm not a 'good' wolf by any means." She lets that sink in for a moment, before giving her head a firm shake. "I want you to tell me the rest of your story, tomorrow." She says, then starts off through the grass.
Survivor snorts and snaps his head down as Wyanet called him 'Courage.' Its clear that, had he the judgement to, he never would have answered that direct question. Now she has an instrument of torture: his whelp-name! He looks after her. "THat, I cannot do, Wyanet, for I would violate my covenant with Skelaghe to never speak the story again to anyone in Ute. So long as you and I are both of Ute ..." he says, then looks away, across the border. "But ... if you must know the rest ... we could temporarily vagrant away, outside the border." <repose>
"It'll be our little secret then." Wyanet calls over her shoulder as she heads off through the grass, letting out a long yawn, before disappearing all together, leaving only her scent lingering behind in the brushes.
Survivor lays flatly on the ground as Wyanet leaves, tears now welling in his eyes. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be here, maybe he ... and the Ute, and all wolves of packs ... would be better off if he spent every last moment of whatever life he has left as a worthless vagrant.
~ ~ ~
Perhaps it is some stroke of good fortune that Maka has no idea about much of Ute's inner workings or the histories of its members. That's the bane and blessing of a newcomer. And... perhaps it is fortunate for others as well, at least in the fact that Survivor doesn't get a great deal of time to dwell on his own misery before the girl makes her way towards the water. She's hesitant at first, but then the thirst brings her closer, tail swaying at ease behind her. "Hello there." She offers, and does a quick little stutter-step to bypass the scarred wolf with only a glance. "You're Ute?" She asks briefly, nose twitching before she lowers her muzzle to take a few laps of water.
Survivor is caught off guard in his distraught state. He quickly paws at his muzzle, as though to scratch an itch, though the truth is he doesn't want the innocent to see his tears, for they then might ask why. He yawns, stretches and rises, as though he'd merely been napping, but he keeps himself submissvely postured, even to the young wolf. "Good day to you, miss," he woofs politely, managing to suck it up to swallow his pain for now. "I am a new pledgeling-omega of Ute," he says. "My name is Coo ... Survivor." Oh. My. Gods. Damn that Wyanet ...
While Maka may be young, she isn't unobservant. There are a hundred questions a more impetuous wolfling might ask of a scarred and distraught adult, but for the time being, she holds her tongue. Lifting her head, the girl laps the last bit of water from her muzzle and tilts her head. "That's a strange name." Her ears flip-flop, one up - one sideways as she tries to make sense of it. "Coo-sur-vi-vor." She says it as if it's all one long word, "Do you have a shorter name?" She finally asks, laughing softly to herself. "I'm Maka. Wyanet's sister."
Survivor's maw goes agape a bit at Maka's siblinghood. "Just Survivor," he says. "I ... just saw your sister ... just a minute before you happened along, in fact," he says, flicking his muzzle in the direction Wyanet had gone. "You are not Ute?" he asks, a bit surprised at the realization ... if she had been, surely she would have been told about Survivor by now.
"Is it so surprising that she has sisters? I'm just the youngest one, there are others you know..." Maka's head tilts in amusement, giving that floppy-eared look a second time as her muzzle twitches in a half-smile. Still, she sniffs, and looks off in the direction that her sister traveled as she gives a nod. "Mmm. I still haven't been shown much of the lands yet. Abel is supposed to show me later. So I'm okay with just staying around here." She settles to her haunches, leaning slightly to the side to use one hind leg to scratch at an itch on her neck. "I guess I am now. The alpha said I could stay, and Wya vouched for me, but I haven't really had introductions to the whole pack yet."
Survivor nods. "Same here ... though, of course, there is no one to vouch for me. Alphess knows all there is to know of me now, though," he remarks. "Do you suppose this Abel could show me around? I have ... already ... had difficulty, in not knowing who friend or foe of Ute is when I ... unknowingly ... allowed an intruder in a few days ago," he whines in frustration.
As her foot comes back down to the ground, the girl shakes the thick fur about her neck from side to side until it settles once more. "So you're a newcomer, too, huh?" She asks, although it's more of a statement than a question. Bobbing her head once, the young wolf seems to consider the scarred form of the omega curiously, but without the disgust or admiration others might respond with. "Well, Abel is one of the alpha's pups, my age, I guess." She offers, shrugging one shoulder upwards. "I think they only volunteered him to show me around because Wya seems intent on trying to fix us up or something." She leans forward towards the other wolf, still keeping a bit of distance between them. "Why not ask one of the males? There has to be more than just Abel and you, right? I'm sure they could show you the ropes, omega or no..."
Survivor says, "Oh," in response to the discovery that Abel's offer to give this young one a tour was a rather special situation. "I have encountered a couple Ute guards that could do the job, I suppose ... but at the time, we did not get to chat ... they responded when I howled an alarm when I realized the male I had let in was actually not Ute and an intruder. We were busy trying to track him down, but he was so stealthy, we were unable to follow his trail and wound up having to split up in the chase in the hopes one of us might come across him. I did not see those males again, unfortunately ... I think their names were Kezu and Hahtalekin. Do you know either of them?" he asks.
Maka listens with her ears perked forward, black-tipped tail twitching lightly against the ground in a rhythmic pattern. "There wasn't any trouble because of it, was there? I mean, did the intruder hurt anyone?" She doesn't seem quite so concerned over the intrusion as the aftermath. She lightly paws the ground beneath her, getting to her feet only to turn in a tight circle and then settle herself into a comfortable curled position. "I'm afraid not. I've met... the Alpha, Abel, Heath, and you." She motions towards him with her nose. "But I'm no intruder. You can verify my story with one sniff. I smell too much like Wya, I think. That's why I got as close as I did without anyone noticing."
Survivor shakes his head. "As it turns out, he had a mutual relation with the Alphess. He had not been raise by a pack ... by a normal pack ... that understands or respects pack territories nor a visitor's status and the respect demanded for pack members. His intrusion rattled nerves, including mine ... but ... fortunately, Ute was lucky I had not mistakenly let in someone with more evil intentions." Survivor shows signs of regret that he had been merely lucky as he mentions this. "At least you know Wyanet's name ... the intruder I had let slip in, did not know the name of any in the pack ... I feel very frustrated, not able to know friend from foe ... at the same time I feel, since I have been given status in the pack -- even a pledgeling-omega -- I have a duty to protect it. Judgement, experience, reason ... I unfortunately lack in these things." He gives the young lass a good sniffing. "I hope I do not frighten you, I certainly have no intention to attack," he tries to reassure.
"Not raised in a pack? How strange." Maka comments, seeming puzzled, and perhaps a little confused by the prospect. It was hard enough for wolf pups to survive in a pack, but without one? Still, she's young, and there's so much she doesn't know. "Perhaps it's best to send a howl if strangers cross your path wanting into the territory." She suggests, "Especially if you're not sure what their intentions are." She doesn't seem to mind when he checks her 'credentials', shaking her head at his worries over frightening her. "You don't frighten me." She hesitates, and then admits, "Well... maybe a little. I've never seen a wolf with so many scars before. It must have hurt an aweful lot." Miraculously, she doesn't ask about the source of the scars, stretching her forepaws out infront of her instead with a bit of a yawn.
Survivor shakes his head. "Not a ... pack ... like we know. Not like any I have ever heard of. Some ... empire, or kingdom, or something ... but not a pack." He says, "That's what I did, the first time, when I realized he was not Ute ... I howled ... that's when Kezu and Hahtalekin came to my aid. I thought we could easily track the intruder, but ... he seemed to leave no scent-trail at all. Somehow, his pack has developed secrets of stealth beyond anything I've ever heard of and can make their own scent-trails disappear, even when in a rushed retreat. Anyhoo ... when I encountered him a second time, I knew, then, I would not have time to wait for packmates to arrive to then go chase down the intruder, because he did not leave a scent-trail behind to follow ... I had to keep him in sight ... so I actively chased him alone, howled out on the way ... that time, it was the Alphess herself who came and resolved the situation. It was then it was discovered he was looking for a Ute member, I guess, who had died some time ago." He pauses in several long moments of silence at the mention of the scars, and unable to think of a 'safe' answer to give that was also honest, he fails to answer the young she-wolf's comment at all ... but is very silently grateful she does not ask for details on how he got them.
"... What?" This time, Maka's look of confusion shows no amusement in it, "There's no such thing as an animal with no scent. He probably covers it up somehow maybe." Her amber eyes seem troubled, perhaps trying to sort through the possibilities of such a thing. "So much I don't know." She finally sighs, folding her paws before her. "I guess I'll never know, if it's taken care of now." She almost seems a little disappointed by that, settling her head down onto her paws. "But for now, I'm afraid I need a bit of a rest. I've been traveling since before sun-up when I first caught Wyanet's scent." Her voice deepens a little as her muzzle stretches into a tongue-curling yawn. "Mmmrrmm." If she has anything else to say, it gets lost in her mumbling as her back leg splays out to one side, twitching slightly even before her eyes close.
~ ~ ~
Survivor is at the river's edge, lapping thirstily. The wolf had a far more pleasant encounter with Wyanet's younger sister than Wyanet herself ... but he knows that is his fault for exposing Wyanet to the true ugliness of his past. The new Ute pledgeling-omega decides the longer he puts off acquainting with the rest of the pack, the more likely he will face a similar situation as he had with the intruder, and be equally crippled by his unfamiliarity with his packmates to recognize friend versus stranger again.
The river is certainly a nice place to be. The gurgling creek almost sounds like it has a voice of its own, the sun glimmering through the trees and providing nice, sunny spots for relaxation and contemplation. Most surprisingly, however, the creek suddenly seems to actually *get* a voice of its own, smooth and resonant that flows over the rocks like the water itself. "Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows, And fair is the lily of the valley; Clear is the water that flows from the hills, but my love is fairer than any..." And around the corner comes the sleek, handsome form of Quidel, bobbing his head as he serenades the creek, the trees, and anyone who happens to be nearby. His eyes are closed as he feels his way around the bank, looking contented as anything, but keeps his nose to the wind... has he followed Survivor's scent here?
Survivor's ears perk at the poetry. The disfigured wolf cocks his head and remains silent, curious, before relaxing into a pleasant pant, still saying little, hoping to hear more poetry. Such sweetness!
Quidel says, "Come over the hills, my bonny canine lass, Come over the hills to your darling; You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow, and I'll be your true love forever..." Quidel's voice wavers and falls away as he approaches the stranger, opening his eyes once he's a good few feet away. "Hmm," he says, tilting his head curiously. "Another stranger come to Ute. We have been getting a great deal of those, and I must admit I am just one... but forgive my trivial prattling." He stands up tall, confronting the newcomer like a proper wolf should. "You are at the borders of a pack's lands, sir! I am afraid I must forgo etiquette and ask you to promptly identify yourself.""
Survivor closes his eyes and bobs his head. "Of course," he woofs. "I am Survivor, and have pledged to Skelaghe -- and she has accepted -- my pledge to serve Ute. I am, in fact, now Ute myself ... though, of course, being a pledgeling, on a probationary basis for now." He keeps himself submissive to the other wolf. "There is much of the pack and its territory ... in fact, the vast majority of it, that I have yet to meet or see, so I apologize for my false presumption that Skelaghe had passed the word and most of the pack would already know that an easily-recognized scarred wolf had been granted pledgemanship." He adds, "And ... please do not ask me to forgive your sweet poetry, as I rather enjoy it."
"Hmm." Quidel regards the wolf with a very plainly flattered look. "I have had several compliments of that nature since I came here. Perhaps, instead of Errant, I should be called Songster around here... that seems to be all anyone expects this appetent Errant to do around here anyway." He rolls his slim shoulders in a shrug. "But it's nice, at least, that the Ute enjoy what I'm good at. Welcome, then, probational Survivor," he says with a smirk. "How come you to this place in your vagabond sojourn? We haven't had good experience with visitors, or so I'm told."
Survivor's pleasant demeanor drops for a moment at the last. "I am not a good visitor, I'm afraid, but ... sinners need a refuge, a place of peace, to reflect and learn the true joys of a wolf's life that they have passed on." He brightens his posture. "You are why I came here, actually. The singers, the poets, the creative hearts ... the lovers, the romantics. I did not value these things when I was young and reckless ... but now I realize they have a lot more meaning than being the toughest warrior. You provide the difference between being a survivor, and being someone who lives a life. As for what actually brought me here ... I could not tell you. But ... I believe it was fate. I believe ... I hope ... my wanderings are at an end, that ... that what remains of my life will be learning the peace and love that exists here, that my evil, old heart might have another opportunity to live here, and I will have something to take with me, when my time comes, besides guilt and shame."
Quidel remains silent throughout the wolf's monologue, a guarded and careful expression on his face. He turns his head and stares at him out of the corner of his eye. "A pentitent sinner hoping to find redemption?" he asks with a sly smile. "Well. There's plenty of sin been going on here as well, I'm afraid." He drops onto his stomach, crossing his paws lazily in front of him. "A boy who won't respect his mother, a vile rapscallion *dog*," he spits the word like it's a curse, "that roams our borders the Alpha won't let us vanquish, and discord all through the pack." He sighs. "As someone who is looking for a good place like you, sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake coming here. But don't let me blacken your perceptions. All packs have their bad times, as I know all too well..."
Survivor frets a bit as the singer curses the word 'dog.' "I'd never heard of dog, nor smelled nor seen one, until I came here. Could you, sweet singer, tell me why dog is vile to you?" he asks. "Why would a dog's presence make this not a good place? Why would a dog have any less worth or ability to be good than a wolf?"
"Because, for one, dogs are our little cousins that have been far too close to Men for their own good," Quidel explains as though he were a teacher running a lecture, looking over his paws and wiping dirt off them in the grass. "I don't have anything against dogs. But apparently, this one is... for lack of a better word, deranged. I don't know the specifics. But he did something terrible involving Skelaghe, and now... well. Some of the pack want to hunt him down. But Skelaghe refuses for whatever reason. I don't know. I do not try and insert myself into the personal business of others, and nobody has come to me for help. So I remain here, distressed and without direction. It's a sad state of affairs, sir."
Survivor snorts. "You should not be so quick to demean or condemn. I do not think any around here have ever done worse than I have, and what I did was so horrible, that upon confessing my crime to Skelaghe, she forbade me to ever poison another Ute with the story of it again, and so I shan't ... but trust me, nothing done by this dog could be worse than my crime. We are all living beings. We all start young and helpless, and we all grow up wanting to someday become parents, so that our lives will continue in the memories of others, and our ways will survive through out progeny many generations into our descendants ... but while that sounds glorious and harmonious, the simple fact is not all of us can achieve this, but all of us will try. Just as we predators make our prey strong, by taking out the ill and feeble, leaving only the strong to survive and thus the strongest of them will live to have their children ... so to is it for us, but no one readily quits. Wolfkind had developed this way since the very first wolves, and that which distinguishs wolfkind from other predators -- the ways of the Wolf pack -- evolved into being in a similar fashion. We challenge ourselves, the struggle for dominance, to be alpha, to mate and have cubs ... it is a messy, competitive friction with so many going toward the goal that has only enough room for a single pair. It is built into our very fur and muscle, a part of our being, that we seek it. Unless the one you speak of has tried to kill innocents, it would be wrong to seek to kill him nor even wish for his death. While our traditions hold only the alphas will have young, that does not mean those who did not achieve that should are worthless. Whether its a dog or a wolf, or a cougar or other being ... they have a life, don't they? And ... even if they were a bit unusual, had trouble getting along ... doesn't the more ill the will thrust upon them, by others such as yourself, only serve to derange them further?"
"Myself?" Quidel asks in a low, suddenly almost dangerous tone of his voice. For a probational visitor he's quickly getting irksome, talking like that. "Survivor... you won't survive much longer talking like *that.* Like I said. I don't have anything personal against him. If the *pack* deems him unworthy of hanging about, then I will run him off and not feel the guiltier for it. Even kill him if I must. Trust me. He did *not* make us stronger," he says, leveling a glare at that scarred face of Survivor's. "The mere mention of him seems to bring out only anger. Perhaps I am overstepping my boundaries and speaking of things I don't know. But whatever the case, this is a *problem.* And as romantic as I am I know problems need solving. *Not* coddling." He's even standing up again, reasserting his dominance as a senior (if only just) member of the pack. "What Skelaghe decides is what I will do." And then he seems to lose some of his bluster. "If she would ask me anything, that is."
Survivor says, "Maybe I am, but ... I have killed. And I can tell you, having killed, that killing is never an answer. A wolf is never stronger for having killed. Regrettably, sometimes it is necessary ... we must hunt for survival, sometimes we must stand and fight if a cougar or bear or a wolf of deadly intent attacks ... but killing someone you have a disagreement with is not a victory. Whatever this dog has done, I assure you I have done worse. If anyone should be hunted and killed, it should be me."
"Well." Quidel shrugs, somewhat indifferently. "What you have done is obviously not enough to keep you from being accepted here. What this Vincent is guilty of is obviously *something* worse, or Skelaghe would not be in such a tizzy. Sounds reasonable enough, yes?" he asks, pacing a couple times in front of the wolf. "Whatever the case, it needs resolving immediately. Or we'll simply keep going and wolves will get angry and..." He shakes his head. "I know what happens when a pack fragments. I don't want to see it happen here. But don't expect your advice to fall on ears as open as mine. Or even be noticed," he says with a shake of his head. "I haven't got a chance to speak with anyone since this started."
Survivor answers, "I put Alphess in a 'tizzy' as well. It was difficult, keep my past to myself and spare Her the taint of knowing or impart to her what I feared, whatever the consequences, she must know of me. I chose the latter. I must not sin again, even if 'good intentions' mix with a selfish desire to hide from my past. I would hope you would go to great lengths and make honorable sacrifices to keep yourself from wishing ill of others ... but that is not something I can compel you nor anyone to do, for that would be evil preaching of good. I do hope you will take every pause you must, though, to seek amends with this one you feel ill toward. I have not been here long, but I have great faith already in Skelaghe's strength and wisdom."
"Well, let's stop with the whole 'who's past is worse' thing, yes? It just leads into interminable discussions that don't do anyone any good," Quidel says with a shrug. "We have a good deal of talking to do, but everyone seems to stubborn to just get on with it. And I *do* wish, sir, that you would cease casting aspersions on my own ability to forgive and forget. It's starting to make you sound pedantic." He rolls his eyes and looks off at the distant forest. "If it weren't for the task I was given I think I should've left at this point, to be honest."
Survivor shakes his head. "That's because harboring fear, loathing and hatred is so pointless, and I have great cause to know this very well. I will shut up, if you desire, but it will not change my wish nor perception. I have no ability nor authority to get you to reconsider. I believe I am much better off for your presence in Ute, and it is for that selfish reason that I hope you find an excuse to stay beyond obligation to a duty you do not truly enjoy."
Quidel sighs and droops his head and ears. "No, no, cease, please, it's my own frustration that keeps this conversation going." He begins to stalk back up the riverbank. "I should be agreeing with you on all counts, sir, but after a few days of... *this*... it starts to wear on the nerves. Forgive me for being disagreeable. And..." He halts, glancing over his shoulder with glittering green eyes. "... yes, I do not really enjoy *this* duty either. I'm supposed to be watching over another wolf here, but she keeps not being where I can do that. Most confounding." He turns back and continues walking, wondering if Survivor will follow.
Survivor comments, "I was .. confounded ... myself, trying to help my new packmates dealing with a very elusive intruder. Quite clever, that intruder, I still don't know how he eluded us ... fleeing whilst leaving no scent trail at all that Kezu, Hahtalekin nor myself could find. I realized long ago, there will always be a stronger warrior, or a more cunning one ... but still hard to believe how adept some are." He seems a bit indecisive as to whether or not to follow, so he finally asks, "Would it be okay if I followed you? I promise ... I'll shut up."
"What?" Quidel says, stopping and looking over his shoulder at Survivor with a sharp expression. "There was an intruder here?" He turns away and sighs deeply. "So that's it then. Things happen, just when I'm never around..." He rolls his eyes. It's hard to keep up a good vocabulary when you're so down about things. They're going to start thinking he's useless if he doesn't show up more often. "Come on, then." And he keeps walking, in a vaguely northeast direction.
Survivor nods. "He proved to be harmless, fortunately, aside from the unnecessary ruckus I stirred up in calling in alarm. He was on a mission of some sort to find someone in the pack whom, from what Skelaghe said, died some time ago."
___
Creek Overhang
___
The ground rises here, making a small cliff that hangs a few feet over the river below. The ledge drop-off is wide and sturdy, supported by the packed earth of the riverbank, and able to hold the weight of even the largest of creatures. The overhang is somewhat secluded, making for a peaceful place to just lay in the grass, listen to the singing birds, and watch the trickling creek nearby.
___
Quidel has lead Survivor here on a rather meandering course, sometimes talking, sometimes not, along the stream until they reach the overhang. Quidel goes right up to the ledge and looks down. "I like to come here and introspect," he admits blithely. "The setting makes a poet's soul take flight, if I may be trite," he says with a smile, looking around at the peaceful scene. Birds sing nearby and the sun is a little more intense at this time of day, making for quite striking sunbursts. "I love to sing here."
Survivor listens, for a refreshing change, reflecting. He hovers a moment at the overhang, looking down at his reflection upon the rippling surface of the current. "I think I will probably be spending a lot of time here, myself," he comments. "Hopefully without disturbing others." He finally breaks from his gaze upon his own reflection.
If you talk as much about morality as you did me, that may be a vain hope, Quidel thinks, but doesn't say aloud. He's just in a foul mood that he hasn't gotten to prove himself a useful member of the pack. A rather sublime look develops on his face, and then he hums, getting a tune, before pursing his lips and... "Idle days in summertime, In pleasant sunny weather, amidst the golden colour'd corn, two lovers passed together. There were words they did not speak to give their thoughts expression, each knew the other's heart was full, but neither made confession..."
Survivor closes his eyes as Quidel begins a new poem. Not asleep, certainly, but ... he seems to shut out as much of his physical senses as he can to imbibe in the imagery.
It's a simple, pleasant song, like something you'd sing if you were having a long, slow day and just sunning on a rock. His voice floats pleasantly down from the overhang to any ears nearby capable of listening. "Winter came, and then, alas, came cold and dreary weather. No more the lovers passed their days amid the fields together... Fate had severed them apart and now they're brokenhearted. If they were mates in summertime... they would not now be parted..." The simple, folksy song drops away over the ledge like so much water into the soil. "This place reminds me of young love, apparently," Quidel murmurs with a smirk. "How fickle it can be."
Survivor wurf-chuckles as the song ends, at Quidel's self-commentary. Only then does he re-open his eyes. "If it always strummed your heart the same way, you'd constantly sing the same song, the same way ... and then your packmates would tire of it," he laughs easily. It seems the youth's song does, in fact, resonate with the disfigured wolf. At least he's not rambling preachiness now!
"Well, we agree on that much at least," Quidel replies, adding a gracious nod of his head. "I had a couple of periods in my life that involved such... fleeting feelings. They ended quickly enough," he continues, looking a mite sad. "When... I had to leave, of course. But, no looking back unless you want to fall into yet another hole in life, eh?"
Survivor shakes his head. "If you always had the same feeling, you wouldn't be able to appreciate it, even if the feeling was 'good.' You know love strongest when you've felt fear or hate." He sniffs at the singer. "Those feelings may seem fleeting because they were with you for so short a time ... but they are still with you. That's why you sing of them. They're part of who you are."
"Oh. I know hate and fear much better than love, I'm afraid, Survivor," Quidel says with a nod. "It's why I sing of love. Because I did know it, for... such a short time. I wish to know it again, some day. Not any day soon, I suspect," he mutters with a shrug. "But who knows? Maybe one day my singing will conjure up a fair maiden drawn by the sound of my beautiful harmonies," he says with a theatrical toss of his head.
Survivor laughs. "When you do find love, even just fleeting, it will be all the sweeter than if you had love your entire life and never not known it."
"That's true enough as well. You have a good deal of wisdom, sir," Quidel says with a nod. "It's rather hard to feel the love around here, though. By chance if you find a wolf named Ixkin, tell her I'm looking for her."
Survivor nods. "I will. Thank you ... for sharing your song with me," he says, sensing Quidel might be tiring of his company.
~ ~ ~
Survivor lays over the edge of the Overhang, his forepaws drooping to suspend in the air, and reflects upon his shadow at the bottom of the creek, and his reflection distorted on its moving surface.
Quidel is still sitting nearby, surprisingly, in something of a silent vigil. He watches the water flow by, indifferently, as his eyes are on the forest. Security duty for this wolf, yes sir. Nothing will get by these two. His normally cheerful, vivacious eyes watch the forest around him intently, ears perked up to their full height, twisting and turning with each bird's chirp, gurgle of water, snap of twig. No more intruders today.
Survivor closes his eyes several moments and rests his head upon the rock. He might seem to be going to sleep, but he isn't ... he listens to the trickle of the creek with his ears, the chirps of the birds and the humm of a nearby hummingbird.
Hum. Hummingbird. Humming. Quidel starts to hum. Gentle, low, and deep. It's a slow, lazy song for a slow, lazy day. It rises and falls like the hummingbird as it jumps up and down, trying to find a good place to hover and taste delicious nectar. "Hmm hmmm... la da ta, da da da..." Quidel murmurs, tapping his paw to an unheard rhythm.
Ixkin moves silently along the edge of the cliff her eyes fixed ahead. The sound of the humming birds barely cause her ears to twitch as she comes to a stop and carefully turns to look out over the river. Unaware of the others not far from her position she has kept a distance from the pack in general for a reason. Though now was the time to slowly make her way back to the living.
Survivor daydreams a bit, though he isn't fully asleep, and before he knows it, the singer's hums hae drawn in his own hums. He doesn't even notice as his voice follows behind less and less, and even starts to harmonize with Quidel's. He's nowhere near alert enough, now, to notice the approaching Ixkin.
Quidel looks over at Survivor with a small smile, shaking his head as he keeps on humming, apparently mixing with the birds farther out. Unlike Survivor, he's still got his wits about him, and can see Ixkin approaching from afar. He watches and waits in silence. Perhaps he should howl. But that would be a little too forward, maybe. "Someone's coming," he says instead to the other male. "I think... it's her."
Ixkin just stares for a few minutes and then begins her walk again. Out in the distance she notices two males, one in which she recalls meeting briefly once and the other is a mystery. Moving in their direction slowly ears laying back, "Hey..." she calls once in better earshot. Stopping a comfortable distance from them. "Anyone seen Skelaghe?"
Survivor keeps humming, several long moments after Quidel has stopped and even spoken. "Wha ... huh?" he woofs suddenly, opening his eyes several -long- moments after Quidel had tried to alert him. He shakes his head and looks and listens about. He has not seen this female before. "I last saw her ..." he starts, then tries to think. "Yesterday, actually. I think she was headed toward the dens ... I am Survivor," he introduces himself, rising to his paws, causing his scarred hide with large patches of fur missing to be more in view. He keeps his tail tucked under himself. "I am a new pledgeling to Ute and not permitted near the dens, so I do not know if she is still there."
"Quidel. I believe our eyes met at least once before," he says with a flashy smile, and a low bow before the female. Always good to put your best paw forward when you want to make a good impression. "It's a pleasure to encounter you again, my lady, but I too have not seen Skelaghe. I believe I smelled her further downstream not long ago, but I don't know where she has been since. Forgive my ignorance."
The wolfess dips her head low to them both instincively going into a more submissive position. "I am Ixkin. One of the original Ute packmembers and also member of this one." The marking of the sun on her shoulder is the same as Skelaghe which proves they have history. "Nice to meet you both and welcome to the pack."
Survivor gives the Tobba an odd regard. "There was another about with that, besides Skelaghe, I mean," he says, looking to Quidel. "That ... intruder ... I mentioned, who wouldn't follow pack protocol by waiting at the border ... he had one of those." He looks back to the female. "I belive he, and Skelaghe herself, called them Tobbas ...?" he asks if he got the pronounciation right.
Quidel tilts his head politely. "I too am of Ute. An Errant, I think I was named. But thank you for the salutations anyway. It's good to meet someone who can, at least, attempt to put on a genuinely friendly face," he says with a handsome smile. He looks between the two of them when the Tobba, whatever, that is, is mentioned. "Do you mean the marking on her shoulder?" he asks curiously. "Forgive me, my lady, I am still lacking in knowledge of my adoptive pack. I wish to rectify this with prompt education."
Ixkin nods her head turning so they can see the marking. "Tobba... But it is not going to be required of the new pack." Turning to face them again looking between them both while settling to her haunches. "My brother was the alpha of the former pack but I was sort of the quiet one. I was the mate of the omega then and not many was very fond of my choice. But then the sickness began to spread over the pack. Many of us lost family and loved ones. For a while I was seperated from helaku and Skelaghe but since reunited with them.. well.. now with just Skelaghe." she doesn't comment one another being seen with the marking. She hardly remembers many of the old pack anymore.
Survivor nods to Quidel's question. "Yeah, that mark ... is a symbol, I gather. Skelaghe, and ... Wanageeska?" he asks to himself, hoping he got the lad's name at least close, "... tried to explain it to me, but ... its something you have probably understood for a long time, am I right?" he guesses this question to Ixkin. "Where as I am just getting fumbling grasps. My whelp-pack ... had a relatively simple belief system. We believe in a single goddess, Luna, symbolized in the realm by the moon itself, who watches over us."
"Mine believed something similar," Quidel says, raising his eyebrows with surprise. "Or at least they spoke of Luna with the same reverence. Funny how things seem to be consistent like that," he remarks. He turns his piercing green eyes back to Ixkin. "I can only hope, my lady, that we live up to the esteem you obviously held your former packmates in. This one, at least," he says, putting a paw to his chest, "swears to do all that he can for Ute."
Ixkin tilts her head at the name mentioned. Not one that she knows right off, "I am sure you both do fine." she smiles politely. "It is a new beginning for all of us. I hope you both feel free to call on me if you ever need anything."
Survivor concurs with Quidel. "My blood, my fangs and my claws are committed to the service of Ute. May the peace here bring happiness and prosperity to all in Ute, and may the honor and wisdom of the Alphas guide us all." Survivor has /still/ not met the alpha male, however.
"Yes," Quidel says, nodding in agreement with Survivor. "If it is anyone who should be in service to anyone, it is us, and especially I," Quidel exclaims, dropping to a more submissive posture. "I am here to facilitate the acquisition of any needs you or this pack may have. I am an Errant, after all. Do you think that sets some kind of precedent?" he asks with a smile and a wag of his tail. "I don't remember any such position in my previous pack, but I like the sound of it!"
Ixkin lifts her shoulders into a shrug, "I don't ever recall that position myself." she admits though figures she must also be something like it. Releasing a sigh going into thought for the moment. "Skelaghe is our only alpha." looking off that is really /all/ she plans to speak about on the matter of the 'alphas'.
Survivor sits silently. So, it seems, he is at the passing of an era ... he dares not speak it, but he knows the lone remaining alpha partner, especially one so ... advanced ... will not be alpha for long. He hasn't known Skelaghe for long, but ... it already makes him uncomfortable. She is eminently wise, gracious to the undeserving ... and one of the only two in the pack who knows his truth. She had made him vow to never repeat his story within the pack, but ... if she is replaced, shouldn't the new alpha know who it is they lead? Survivor ponders this all with one of his typical gazing-in-the-distance, lost-in-thoughts looks he often gets. "I am really not appropriate to any position but Omega," he finally states, simply. "Regardless of how long I stay."
Quidel glances about uncomfortably when things get a little more somber. "Well. That's no reason to think the pack has no future. Nor that we have no future in the pack!" he says, lifting his chin proudly. "After all. *I* certainly plan on doing nothing but supporting this place. On my honor I will. Hmm? I know I didn't survive this long just to see a pack lose faith in itself."
Ixkin can't help but stare at Survivor after making the statement of never being appropriate for anything better than omega. The words do remind her of her former mate which she lost in the old lands. He felt much the same way but it didn't make her love him any less. "Don't day that. I don't know your story or why you have this position. But it is my belief that a title is not what defines you nor is anyone condemned to such a status of life."
Survivor smiles at the lass. "Don't worry about it. I am not here to feel sorry for myself. My mere presence here is more than I've earned, though ... at any packmate's command, I will provide my full ferocity in its defense, but that's a little like breathing. The spirit, the soul, the hearts of my packmates ... that is what I am here for." He looks between Quidel and Ixkin. "I do not fear for the pack's future ... au contrare, I believe Ute has yet to see its best days. My heart yearns to be warmed, and it will indeed be quite warmed to be able to witness the peace and love that I have already come to understand are what Ute is all about. If you think of me, though, and you wonder what worth I have ... think of the most vile, evil being in your life who has done you the most harm. I am lower than them. I gravely regret my actions, but that does not make me a whole, decent wolf again ... those I hurt left me to judge myself." He sighs a bit, knowing his speeches tend to really rub others the wrong way. "I will share in this pack's joys, but ... I can never be appropriate to lead, not anyone. If you have no real sense of that, spend some time with me and you soon will. I can't reason nor judge well. I'm no weakling nor coward to shy away from a fight, but ... it must always be up to others and never up to me on /whether/ to fight."
Quidel sighs to himself, looking off to the side. Everyone was so darn melancholy around here. "Well why do you say that?" he asks Survivor, nudging him with his shoulder. "You're the one who told me you came here looking for absolution. If you don't reach for it you certainly won't acquire it. It's like going on a hunt and then refusing to land the killing blow," he jibes. "Anyone can rise above their station," he says sudden, surprising fervor, his back arching and his eyes flashing. *He* should know all about being hated for his status.
Ixkin ears lay back to her skull as she listens. "The past is what it is." she for one is not going to judge anyone by it. No matter what they have done - even if it was murder. Rising to her paws she slowly approaches to the free side of Survivor as long as it doesn't send her off the cliffside. "Chin up ok? You have friends here."
Survivor snorts. "I am afraid I miscommunicated, if you are under the impression I seek or believe I could even achieve absolution. That is not my goal. I simply wish to indulge in the other ways of the wolf, outside of killing ... to embrace your songs and poetry in my heart, the tenderness of lovers, the in-tune-ness of the spirits. Hunting, defending, killing ... that's survival. The only wisdom I have is that I have no wisdom, and there are wolves who devote an incredible amount of their souls to its persuit that, even were I a fresh-whelped pup, would have a tough time catching up to in terms of undersanding, seeing the bigger picture. Alphaship is for the wise and prideful. Why should it be such a problem that I do not persue it?" he asks Quidel. "You need not worry about me as a rival in its persuit. There are probably better challengers in the pack anyway, even if I was interested. There's more to a wolf than competing against others and seeking a glorious goal." Looking back to Ixkin, he smiles again. "Of course there are, and ... I am already feeling the beginnings of friendships. I need not be alpha to enjoy friendships in the pack."
Quidel sighs again. "I never mentioned Alphaship. You depreciate yourself too much, is all I am saying," Quidel says. "No need for a long discourse on the nature of pack hierarchy," he says with a wry smile. "And I do not have ambitions to be a leader myself. I am most content with being a... civil servant of the pack." He glances off to the side ruefully. "Alphaship is what got me in trouble the last time anyway..."
Ixkin very lightly and shyly places a nose to Survivor's shoulder. "Everyone thought I might take up Alphaship once my brother died but.. I am no leader but have always been the submissive one. I accept my place in life. It is where I feel safe and at peace. I consider the pack as my family, everyone is family to me." she smiles.
Survivor shakes his head. "I don't believe omegaship to be demeaning at all. Having reflected on my actions, it did not take me long to realize I was all about pride, about seeking glory, about being 'better' than anyone else, about making a name for myself that would make me famous throughout the ages. I know its difficult to imagine, but ... just accept I cannot make good decisions, and combine that with an at-least average ability to be lethal, and run the possibilities. A mis-judgement on my part could kill another innocent. Its easy enough for me to think, even over-think, when I am calm. What happens in the heat of the moment? A normal contest for a position could go wrong ... so why not simply abstain from it? The pack is better off without my attempt to gain rank or title, and I assure you, I am content just being here." He nods to Ixkin. "I have not known Skelaghe long at all, but ... the moment I met her, I knew this is not an easy time for her. My praise of Ute's peace and love, earlier, does not mean I am blind to its challenges and strife. I also know that, with her mate having passed ... and the reality of her age ... by next breeding season, it is difficult to imagine that she will still be able to cling to the position, and ... for as short of a time as I have known her, my only arriving on the scene here at the end of what has undoubtedly been an incredible era ... that bothers me. I have not met even half the Ute yet, but ... I cannot fathom any holding the power of her wisdom, and her leadership is incredibly sharp and strong. I have felt moments of peace here, already, that I have not felt since I was a wee lad. I wish to be close to all of Ute, for each to know me ... as I am now, anyway. Ute has incredible diversity, and I have faith my uniquenesses can be acclamated to over time."