Welcome to the Swiftfell's role-play contest to win this handsome, new-blooded male who's yours for the taking!
(click for war paint-less image)
Open: Now! Closes: June 10, 2020, noon EST
Posted: Tue May 26, 2020 6:51 pm
Be sure to follow Kells' canon, shop rules, and general Gaia TOS. Anyone may enter, excluding judges. If you're not familiar with the pack, please read up on The Swiftfell here. You may edit your post until close. Pack naming conventions do not apply as he was not born into the pack. NPCs are allowed. Obtain owner's consent if you wish to incorporate existing wolves into your entry. The prize wolf must remain in Swiftfell until the pack is disbanded. We may extend the length of the competition if need be, to allow ample time to submit a role-played response. Have questions? Do not hesitate to reach out to In Good Faith or RuIerr for questions on pack culture, how the process would proceed for an outsider to join the pack, or anything else that comes to mind.
This is a role play contest - we are asking contestants enter with a role play entry describing who this strange, unfamiliar male is and how he came to arrive at The Swiftfell. Keep in mind that this is the first berserker to join the pack. There's never been one in recent memory and will be a delicate topic... be sure to let us know your character is aware of this fact and how they intend to handle that. You have a lot of creative liberty on where this male came from, what his personality is like, his plans for the future, what rank he wishes to be, etc. Let us get to know him as best as you can. The entry should be self-role play in style, and a minimum 500 word count. Half-way done with your first ever role-play with your new wolf! Keep in mind: it would have had to be a discussion amongst the Point as to whether a berserker would be allowed to join the pack and that most of the Swiftfell have never seen a berserker. i.e. don't make the mistake of portraying it was necessarily easy for the berserker to join.
[b]Entrant[/b]: [b]Are you new to Swiftfell?[/b]: [b]Do you own a berserker?[/b]:
[b]Wolf Name[/b]: [b]Entry[/b]:
The Swiftfell
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The Swiftfell
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2020 6:52 pm
Open! <3
Posted: Tue May 26, 2020 10:24 pm
Entrant: medigel Are you new to Swiftfell?: nah :3 Do you own a berserker?: yah :3
Wolf Name: Sunsinger Rallycry Entry: [ wc 1,447 ]
Sunsinger had been gifted in many things, but one thing he'd had to work for all his long life was presence. Small for a berserker, his life had been a constant fight to keep up with the rest of his clan in every facet: in training, in chores, in simple day-to-day life, in love (and the many trials for it), and in the wars that had been ongoing even in his puphood. To the rest of the old pack, Sunsinger was nothing special. Or at least, had been.
He had clawed his way up there. He could do so here, where he hoped to start over and forget it all. Or...he could hope to fade into obscurity for his crimes in a place far from it all with whatever was left of his years. Where no-one could possibly know what a Rallycry was.
Sunsinger, had he known of the human constructs, would have considered himself an instrument. His very being was able to be tuned to whatever music was playing, seeking harmony in the cadence of voices around him. To be the best at everything, one had to know a great deal of many things: how to handle more courtly types, how to present oneself to barbarians, how to remain vigilant even when appearing anything but. And then more than that, smaller things: how to softly speak to frightened children, how to properly train a combat medic, what candidate stood best in what rank. And then also: how to curl around his mate without overheating them in the summer, what path would be easiest on his grandmother's bones, how to dull the heart as he killed a familiar face.
The berserker lost himself for a moment in memories. when he came to, the council of three were still hotly debating, just as they had been for the past hour. He continued to sit in silence, his one good blue eye sliding over each wolf as they spoke.
Though not as large as he could have been, Sunsinger still regarded these wolves as "smallfolk." Even so, it was easy to tell which among them was their alpha: the one called Thrush, who eyed him suspiciously from time to time. A small bird, Sunsinger had thought, and also a health condition if memory served. His grandmother had been the healer, the one who would have rattled off symptoms as easily as one talked about an herbologist's scouting list. She had told him when she passed that her knowledge would pass to him still if he continued to commune with the ancestors.
Sunsinger wished they had said anything at all as he had fled south. The silence then had been as unbearable as the fire he had caused, whose light he had left at his back. Whose ashes remained enshrined on his body in smudges at his limbs. But perhaps the ancestors had deemed him unworthy of advice in his momentary pride. Perhaps they had even temporarily abandoned him, the traitor who had committed practically genocide.
He had tried to tell them every night: It was an order. I had no choice. I didn't know.
They had only saw fit to speak to him again the night before, after days of agonizing loneliness.
Even thinking about it then, there was a strange lull that made him realize the talking had stopped, and he blinked back into the present. Three pairs of eyes were eying him expectantly. When Sunsinger didn't speak, the oldest one of the three gently coughed and repeated himself. "Perhaps if you told us something of yourself, traveler?" the wolf prompted. "From whence do you hail? We have admittedly never seen a wolf of your, ah...makeup."
Sunsinger wondered if this pack also held council with their ancestors if they allowed an elder this apparent rank of importance. He recalled this one being introduced as Dusk Owl, and the one on his left Willow Bark. Alongside Thrush...
"Two birds in a tree," Sunsinger said. His voice was deep and resonant, reverberating in his chest. It helped center him in the present. Before one could ask what he meant, he went on. "I reached out to my ancestors, and they led me to you. Birds gathering in the woods to nest again. They told me that this was my second chance. My resting place, if I proved myself."
He didn't provide further explanation. They did not need to hear the whole story, but only that which concerned them. Sunsinger changed his posture, leaning into the gruff and grizzled appearance he had to dissuade them from prying too much. A natural seeming scowl rested on his face.
"Ancestors?" Dusk Owl asked, looking chuffed. "You can speak to them? The wealth of knowledge you must have, then, my friend! Though I'm surprised they know of us...Well, I hope that our introduction wasn't enough to decry whatever they might have told you."
Considering he had been surrounded by hunters in the area and all but forced in to speak with this triad, well...Sunsinger kept his opinion to himself. He wondered if they would keep his kill as well.
"You must understand that we--" Dusk Owl went on, but a look from Willow Bark and Thrush combined was enough to cow the elder back into silence. Sunsinger could sense the delicate balance, the strings of this instrument following the same melody but just this much sharp or flat compared to one another. It seemed that they did not always see eye to eye.
"Assuming we believe you," Willow Bark said, wearing his own skeptical scowl, "what does that mean for us? What do you want?"
"To enact my penance," Sunsinger said placidly. Paired with his stony expression, it sounded almost mournful. "To rest. But there is much work to be done still."
He waited a few beats, just enough for those strings to tighten, be plucked and hum in anticipation. He wanted to lean into the subtle discord so that he could fix it, but there was only so much he could do as he was now.
"I have lost much, smalkfolk." They appeared either confused or curious at the term or else didn't appreciate it. The berserker plodded on regardless, his voice deceptively soft. "You can see my scars, my size. I was a protector to my people once. I would offer to do the same here, if you would let me stay. I care not where you place me. If my head rests on a rock and open to the skies, so be it. But I cannot return home. And there are far more out there like me who are not as kind."
They could choose to take it as a threat if they wanted. Sunsinger only spoke it as a truth.
"I failed to save those that mattered most. What sits before you now is empty of anything save that one purpose: to protect. If you wish me gone, then you will never see me again. But hear me."
He couldn't stop that fire in his eye as he spoke, that hinted at something far more below his monstrous exterior. "I don't know what your smallfolk customs are, but the northerners carry clan names. Rallycry is mine. Sunsinger Rallycry, Breaker of the Red Siege at Dawn, Shaman of the Old Spirits, Voice of the Ages and Will of the Ancestors, Whose Name Was Taken in the Morning of the Battle at Spine Hill. My forefathers consumed the sun and chased the moon in an endless cycle when the land was young, and I am a child of their everlasting light. When I die, I will speak to the next shaman from the space between stars and pass my knowledge onto them so that our stories and customs are never forgotten."
It was supposed to have been his eldest daughter. Sunsinger faltered for a moment before pushing the memory and pain down.
"In the time I served my clan, I was many things: but above all, I was a soldier. Let me be that for you here, little birds in the woods. Your law is my law, my claws and fangs your own. I would devour flames if asked. It is destined. It is known." The old phrase slipped out of him in their mother tongue, a mantra of affirmation. And Sunsinger bowed his head until it touched the ground. the blaze of color on his back angled like still fire.
The cadence of their voices picked back up again, softer now, as they congregated. Closing his eyes, he let himself listen to their music, praying that this duet would be accepted. Or else, he would be truly wretched and lost.
Entrant: belloblossom Are you new to Swiftfell?: No Do you own a berserker?: No
Wolf Name: HarshTongue Entry: HarshTongue was far from a diplomatic wolf nor was he the brightest of the bunch. He'd been raised to take advantage of the large size he was born into and was indeed smaller only to his father. His father taught him and his brother how to fight and to take whatever they pleased. Brains and tricks were meant for those who did not have the physical strength to defend themselves otherwise, his father would say. HarshTongue had grown accustomed to using brute force to convince those of smaller size, regardless if they were Berserker-kind or others, to aid him in what he desired. Usually, it was in stealing someone's kill or bullying them away from a sleeping patch he wanted. He was used to getting his way in any regards and would not take no for an answer without a fight.
At least, this was the image he put on in front of his family. In truth, he was still a burly, aggressive beast, but he harbored a secret within him: he fancied dire wolves. His family group couldn't suspect a thing, not so long as he wanted to stay with them and he truly did. His parents and brother were the only wolves he'd ever known. Besides, even for someone as large as he was, he still saw the sense in safety in numbers. He had heard rumors that there may be something bigger than even the berserkers and he'd rather not be on his own when he found out if the rumors were true. But... If his family ever found out about his secret, they'd cast him out without a second thought!
The "Little Ones" his parents would call them with condescending smiles, before breaking out into laughter. Any mention of dire wolves would always get a snicker in the family. Sure, they occasionally passed by some of the smaller canines. Hiis father would threaten then out of their freshly caught deer, lest they become the family's meal, his father would threaten and HarshTongue would be there to stand beside his father and snarl. They made quite an imposing and subsequently convincing duo. The dire wolf would flee and HarshTongue would spend too long staring after them. Sometimes, he would even chase them, wondering what it might be like to just run off and join a dire wolf pack himself, all the while looking like a vicious brute hot on the trail of a prey animal.
His parents were always so proud when he'd give chase, but they would make such comments on his return, like bringing home their tail next time, if he was going to go to all the trouble of chasing one down. "Too much effort to waste on a Little One." He would reply gruffly and his parents would guffaw their agreement and they'd settle down to eat.
His family was always nomadic, but they had been growing bolder lately. Chasing off enough dire wolf rogues seemed to have inflated the heads of his kin and HarshTongue had noticed that they'd been moving closer and closer into the forest. Closer and closer to the borders of a pack that lived there. They would hunt where they pleased and leave their scents everywhere, as though daring the pack wolves to come and chase them off. HarshTongue may not have been smart, but he could understand that if the pack of dire wolves came to challenge his family that they would not win.
Packs of "Little Ones" had never been of much interest to his family, he tried to reason. His family would get bored when the pack wouldn't respond or try to fight back and they'd move on, he thought. Yet he still worried. He didn't know if the pack that his family taunted would try to fight back or not. Every day his family would encroach closer and closer to the pack borders and the very thought of dire wolf bodies strewn about like prey animals... it made HarshTongue bristle. He had to do something! Had to warn the pack of his family closing in on them.
So, one evening, while his family slept, HarshTongue slipped away to track the scents. He was able to find the border, but this was not the only thing he was able to track. No, he also found a she-wolf. She appeared grey, but that could have just been on account of the moonlight. It made nearly everything look grey to him. Yet her eyes he could see easily: a bright olive green. She looked like she was out hunting. HarshTongue felt his fur bristle with anticipation. He'd never been so close to a dire wolf that wasn't pelting away from him. She was relaxed, but she was deep in concentration. She was so focused on whatever prey she was tracking that she didn't notice him until his paw crunched down on a brittle branch, snapping it underfoot. Her head shot up and he could only imagine the sight he was to look at. Bright gleaming eyes, an eager smile with parting jaws to speak... The she-wolf let out a shrill cry and bolted.
He supposed that was one way of getting the pack's attention, but he couldn't just leave it at that. What if the she-wolf intended to alert them to sound an alarm for attack? If they attacked his family, it would be all over! He chased after the she-wolf, following her right into the camp. She let out a loud wail when she saw him and it didn't take long for him to be surrounded by dire wolves alerted to the intruder in their home. He couldn't hide the burst of glee he felt in being surrounded by small prodding paws and growling muzzles. Dire wolves looked cute even when they were angry!
But this wasn't a time to be happy, this was serious! "You are being hunted!" He told them. "I bring warning of death! Hear me or be killed!"
You can imagine how that went.
It took a great deal more explanation than that to be allowed to speak with the Pointy Wolves and even then he was surrounded by glaring "Protectors" as he sat before the trio. He tried not to smile at such a title. As though these pup-sized wolves could protect themselves from anything truly threatening. Yet, here he was in front of the leaders of the pack. He had everyone's attention and he was ready to speak his piece.
"My family are... tormentors. They enjoy using brute force to get what they want. What they want now is to fight with you and your pack. But you can't fight them." He looked around him at the wolves that glared his way, which were many, but even these would not be enough. "Even with your numbers, you cannot defeat them without losses, which neither of us want. I am not like my family, I like wolves like you. You're small, but not less." His tail thumped behind him on the ground and he went on. "You will not come out of the fight well, alone, but... I will help. I am bigger, I am stronger." He puffed out his chest proudly, but sighed. "And I am your best bet with not dying." He inclined his head towards the Pointy Wolves. "I can be a bigger Protector and if my family does not kill me, then maybe I could be allowed to stay with your pack and continue to protect you all from other threats too."
HarshTongue wasn't a diplomat, nor was he very bright, but he was earnest. He really wanted to help these dire wolves. He may have been apart of the threatening family that wanted to cause conflict with them, but he was ready to do what he could to protect them from that family, whether that meant telling his family his long-kept secret or fighting them in earnest... He hadn't worked that part out yet. But he knew that he had to warn this pack about what dangers lay outside their borders and he knew that he wanted to do his part to protect them, Pointy Wolves and all, as best as he could for as long as he was able.
(WC: 1,374)
Posted: Sun May 31, 2020 12:16 pm
Entrant: AlicornPlayhouse Are you new to Swiftfell?: Yes Do you own a berserker?: No
Wolf Name: WaywardSun Entry: WaywardSun was tired, oh so tired. His life was one of agony, taking a form he didn't want with a life he couldn't understand. Berserkers, often feared, seen as no more than fools who's strength was killing. He couldn't stand it. He was born into a family of those that rebelled against this idea since they could remember, rising against the stereotype they were shoved into, but, even when the sun rises, it must fall. More berserkers came, and they didn't like the fact his family owned the territory they did. WaywardSun was but a pup at the time, and when he was taken by these wolves with his litter-mates, all he could think of was why mom and dad weren't getting up to come too. His parents, a shining light of hope in his life, had fallen.
WaywardSun didn't understand, he was too young, too naive. He didn't know why they'd taken him, all he knew was that they fed him and protected him.. They must be good, like mom and dad. They must be helping. WaywardSun was always strong, even as a pup, agile and quick. He rose and fell with the sun, a days work for his new home wasn't completed until he'd brought back all the food he could with the sun overhead. For this, he was given the name of RisingSun. Proud and strong, convinced these wolves were helping him, convinced these wolves saved him from whatever made his parents join the sun in the sky.
Life got harder, the older WaywardSun got the more confused he became. He was kind and smart, his strength nothing in comparison to his tongue. He could slash an enemy with words better than claws, these were attributes his parents readily accepted, even if he couldn't remember them all too well. Now, though, as he grew older and tried to perfect this talent, he was shunned. Silenced. His heart burned and ached, unease plagued him. Every night was spent in fear, wondering what really happened, what was going on.
The wolves knew, one day, the pups they stole would put together what happened to their parents, but they'd hoped they could make them as ruthless as they were before it happened. For Waywardsun's litter-mates, this worked, they'd become killers, strong and precise, their only motive to grow this twisted group. It didn't deserve to be called a pack. For WaywardSun, though, he was left confused. A persistent voice in his mind insisted he become one of them, it would be easier that way. It wasn't his job to be the sun.
As WaywardSun reached adolescence, he'd all but accepted his fate. He went by the name of RisingSun but felt as though he had failed. The sun had been warm and inviting.. and he'd become oh so cold, so... so cold.. He put away his sharp words and brought out his claws, hid his tongue and bared his fangs. He'd become a monster. A monster his parents had wanted to raise him to avoid. They ravaged and killed and hurt, and he stood by, allowing it. He couldn't defend those wolves they hurt, he couldn't defeat the monsters he called a family. Why try..? Why not make it easier for everyone.
Soon, though, there was a snapping point. He may seem to have integrated into their ghoulish ways but inside he hurt. Inside it ached. Was this just destiny? Were all his kind subject to become monsters? Fiends of the day that blocked the sun? He couldn't stand it. One day, a group went on a hunt and he stayed behind, keeping watch over their home. This was his job, whenever he wasn't out killing or hunting. To kill and hunt those that dared cross their borders instead...
You can imagine his surprise when the pack returned, carrying pups.. small berserker pups, they couldn't be much older than when him and his siblings were taken. He could smell their fear, their confusion, the biggest writhing around in one wolves mouth.. his body lurched, he felt like he might collapse. His ears twitched as he heard the older wolves flaunting about their kill, their new recruits, and he couldn't take it.
"STOP!" He barked out, a snarl coating his voice. There was a pause, as wolves turned their heads to stare. He could feel his litter-mates eyeing him, he could feel the shivering of those poor pups through the ground. Or maybe that was him, as his legs trembled and shook. He couldn't close his mouth, it wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop it. "You can't. They had homes! Family! What are you doing?!" His outburst continued as one of the larger wolves moved to approach him.
He didn't shrink back, he didn't run. He rose to the challenge, puffing his chest out and raising his head despite his trembling. "I won't let you do this! You're monsters!" He growled, narrowing his eyes to the wolf that stood before him. The scarred male simply scoffed. "You've gone astray, you've lost the meaning of the sun." He began to circle Wayward sun, and fear gnawed at his head. He lashed his head to the side and yelled to him. "I don't need the sun! Your sun is a beast!" This pack, the sun representing chaos and pain.. he couldn't stand it. And, with that, he ran.
He didn't know if they were following him, he didn't know if he'd make it out alive. Soon, though, he found himself alone, the sound of his heavy paws echoing throughout the darkness. They hadn't thought he was important enough to follow...? Slowly, his running died down to a slow and shaky stride. He glanced back into the forest, dense trees blocking his view. Not even his siblings had followed.. he was all alone, in the darkness.
He walked for what felt like an eternity. Weeks, months, years, he didn't know. He rose with the moon and fell with it, the sun made his heart hurt, his body burn. He couldn't look at it, it was too bright.. it hurt too much. He didn't have a name, now, he didn't know who he was. Every night came with fear, fear he was followed... fear he wasn't followed. He'd rather be found and fight them then live another day like an outcast.
It was a cold night, as he wandered past a pack border he hadn't seen. He was covered in small cuts as he stumbled through the darkness and trees, he was hungry.. so.. so hungry. It wasn't long before his tired body found himself surrounded by wolves. Small.. small wolves.. he'd killed wolves like this before, it made him sick. They looked scared, some angry, some confused, he didn't know. What did they look like? What was happening? "Please, please, I won't hurt you..!" He whimpered, lowering his body down 'till his chest touched the ground.
He didn't know much of what was happening, he was scared and tired, but he knew they had lead him off somewhere and along the way his name had been demanded. They wanted a name.. but he didn't have a name. "My... My name is WaywardSun." He concluded softly, nodding to himself. Was this group of wolves like his.. were they monsters as well..? They didn't seem to be monsters, maybe he'd be safe.
WaywardSun was tormented by his past, and even more so by the present. They didn't like him, they didn't trust him, he knew it.. but they didn't kill him, and he didn't hurt them either. He knew it would be a long time before they accepted him. He was hurt and hungry, he knew that was probably the only reason they hadn't scared him off or killed him. He may never feel like he was truly accepted here... but even so, he had nothing else.
He'd found a new purpose, become one of them. Join their ranks and find a place for his sharp tongue and strong exterior. His new name, WaywardSun, he'd become a hunter, never have to hurt another wolf again. He would hunt at night, the day his time to rest and hide from the sun.
No, he wasn't hiding from the sun, he was replacing it. He didn't rise with the moon, his days were still dictated by the sun. When the light left, when all that was left was the glistening stars, he would rise. He would cast light. This pack may not accept him yet, he may be new and scared, they may fear or hate him, but he would be strong. He would be his own hope, his own light in the cold.
He was a wayward sun.
AlicornPlayhouse
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DavyJnah
Ruthless Werewolf
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2020 9:46 am
Entrant: DavyJnah Are you new to Swiftfell?: No Do you own a berserker?: No
Wolf Name: MudWasp Entry: MudWasp would tell you that his life had been a hard one. He had many encounters that had gone sideways rather quickly and more bad experiences than good ones and he was tired. Tired of constantly being on the move and looking over his shoulder. Though he usually slept with one eye open and could handle himself in most situations, he did usually come away with a few cuts here and there. Now most berserkers were not pack folk, clans were different since they were family, but packs were not exactly the norm for them. MudWasp actually thought that a pack might be something better suited for him but hadn't found one yet that he felt attached to. So he wandered and fought and grew stronger.
It was when he came to an area in the forest that he had felt eyes on him in the dusk hours of the day. Someone was watching him from the brush. His hackles raised and his blue eyes watched for any movement. Another came out lunging, only to be met with his teeth on their neck. A brown female dire wolf with blue markings was pinned in his jaws. She didn't squirm but she was all teeth and fur growling under him.
"You're in Swiftfell pack territory stranger." She growled. Little Chickadee Bark defending her home as she was supposed to from the berserker who had just happened to wander in. He was bigger than her but it hadn't stopped her, it was her job to keep the pack safe and that's what she was trying to do.
MudWasp released her, not having realized he had wandered into another territory and a pack at that. He blinked a moment taking in this information and looking at the much smaller wolf who had actually given him a moment to think about the situation. She was brave, but also stupid. "Not really smart to come at me alone." He chuckled looking at her, "Don't you think Swiftfell pup?" He could have seriously hurt her but he had chosen to let her go.
Oh, he was chiding her, glorious. "I can handle you on my own." She snapped back.
"Are all your pack mates as bold, loud, and brave as you?" He asked, gauging what the pack may offer him. This was an opportunity if he saw one. A chance to be apart of a pack, and a strong pack would be nice too.
The other nodded, "You'll have to prove yourself to the Point if you want in, but you look capable. I had been stalking you for a while and you move pretty silently." She noted.
"Prove myself huh? I can do that." he replied to the little dire wolf. A chance at a long standing home he would do whatever it was he had to do for the Point and then some to stay. A place to call home and defend, he'd take it. "Lead on." He said before following the young dire wolf.
[501]
Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2020 3:22 pm
Entrant:Aukai Oceansoul Are you new to Swiftfell?: Yes Do you own a berserker?: No
Wolf Name: StormFall Entry: Stormfall stepped into the forested land with hope and trepidation. What mysteries awaited him here? What new trials would he face. He had not had an easy journey, leaving his Mother’s pack for a new world, but he couldn’t stay there anymore, their actions ate at his soul and his Mom knew why he had to leave. No one could be singled out for years as a battledog just so the alpha could find stronger and better opponents in an effort to crush StormFall’s spirit.
Except that he hadn’t given up had he?
StormFall entered Swiftfell land and liked what he saw, he stayed hidden while he watched wondering if they would perhaps let him join. It looked like they had proper leadership, unlike his former pack and that insecure old tyrant.
That the old leader of his former pack was named Armistice just jerked in his craw. The male had been all about dominance and fighting and StormFall knew that there was so much more about life that was good. It was those moments not outright conquering that mattered.
Eventually he was brave enough to show himself to the Alpha. Who upon hearing his request called the Point together. The elder was busy, but Thrush and Willowbark were there to confer with each other. It is to them that StormFall told his story.
“First of all I would like to thank you for at least hearing me out, I am not accustomed to such easy courtesy and I am very grateful.”
“My story starts with my Mother CrestFall. She was one of the strongest hunters and fighters, a real figure in the pack and well respected. She could not find a male she liked enough to breed with inside the pack so she chose to outbreed. This made the current alpha furious for he had longed to take her to mate for many moons. However outmating was not against the rules so my Mother had done nothing that he could chastise her for. She bore me, and two sisters. My sisters were no threat they were welcomed, but the moment Armistice laid eyes on me they lit with a burning fire of jealousy and hate that might I add I had done nothing to cause except to be born a male from excellent lines.”
“He set out to crush my spirit, it was suttle at first but grew to the point where he would use me for entertainment as a cover up to find someone stronger than me that was more manipulatable than I was. Soon he had set me up against every member in the pack, by default I achieved Beta. Now I was too close to him in rank. He decided to use me as a sort of entrance exam, in order to prove yourself worthy to join the pack you had to fight me. He was searching for an outsider with equal strength. I had mistakenly thought that I would be exempt from fighting after I achieved Beta. “ “I knew he wouldn’t easily find someone who wanted to join the pack and they would suffer, I was tired of suffering too. It would never end, I would be forced to take over a pack I didn’t want one day because he would insult me and mistreat me to the point where pack rules would dictate that I must fight him or leave. So I left instead.”
“I think living there was slowly degrading my soul. I am a fighter but I would rather fight for something I believed in like protecting my pack rather than shredding it from within. I have been watching this pack and I see many things I like about it. A family unit well oiled that I hope that my presence could improve in some way. I am not a violent wolf by nature but I have had a lifetime of battle experience I want my skills to be for a greater good. Let me join and I will help protect you to the best of my ability.”
Thrush was the first to speak. “Well we do not currently have any Berserkers among us so if you were to join, you would be the only one. I cannot guarantee your entry as I must speak with the available point member. Please be patient. I know it may seem like an eternity but we want to do what best for the pack, we do this with all prospective members.”
Willowbark nodded at his assessment and said, “Please make yourself comfortable, you are not at any risk here.”
When the two point members were at an area where they could talk privately with each other they put their heads together. “We have never had a Berserker before Willowbark, I’m concerned that his strength may outpower my own, if he joins and makes a move for alpha then where will we be? Is he experienced enough to run the Swiftfell pack?”
“Thrush, the guy hardly looks like a social climber, he just gave up a beta position in a well established pack because his morals got in the way and he was tired of fighting and drama, it looks more like he wants a vacation or a steady responsibility type of job not the enormous weight that being an Alpha brings.”
“He does look tired doesn’t he? Well you know I try not to judge, I just worry that’s all.”
“I have one question do you feel that he could be dangerous to us or our pack?” asked Willowbark, this answer being the first and foremost priority.
Thrush bit his lip a little in thought, his instincts were telling him, “No, I think he would do as he said, I wish our elder were here though, more heads are always better.”
The pair continued to hash out their plan. Someone was sent to inform the elder of the proceedings. But he did not make it back by the time Thrush felt an answer should be given.
The pair walked back to where StormFall waited with his large head on his paws. His ears pricked forward hopefully at their approach.
“Well?” he asked.
“Barring serious opposition from our missing elder, we have agreed that you may join, we may not have had a berserker before but we see the value in a strong and loyal pack.” Thrush emphasized loyal in particular. “As long as you are who you claim to be, we can think of no reason to bar you entry based on your species alone, that would be unfair as you could be as gentle here as any other wolf who knocks on our territory, just don’t prove us wrong.”
Entrant: Straye Are you new to Swiftfell?: Yes Do you own a berserker?: I do, my Newbie gift was a Berserker Female.
Wolf Name: PhoenixAsh Entry: (Apologetically and insanely long back story!) (Backstory Word Count: 3,881)
Born in grief. Raised in hate. Helpless to defy his fate.
Let him run.
Let him live.
He is not... One of Us...
The road had been long, and he was well traveled.
His earliest memories were of movement.
His mother running, the ground passing beneath him at a blur, her breath tousling his fur and the steady footfall pounding in his ears. He did not know where they were going, or from whence they came. He knew not of being pursued, that the chorus of howls were not friendly. He was barely days old, after all.
He knew nothing of the world.
He remembered passing through the mountains – the teeth of the earth stretching up to the sky. By the time he was big enough to run at her side, they had reached a place that was dark but glowed at night. He was growing old enough now to ask questions.
His mother told him one night, that his father had been a very commanding Berserker, and had demanded she give him to his father who would not allow any male children to live for fear of them growing stronger than he was.
So she'd taken him, and she'd fled.
When he asked if he'd had siblings, she was silent and gave him no answer, bidding he sleep. That she would never let anything happen to him. They were going somewhere where he would always be safe. Somewhere... Magical.
Time passed, and as his mother raised him on the road and taught him how to hunt and how to defend himself, she told him stories of a magical place where wolves with Extraordinary gifts ruled and where everything was beautiful – instead of the death, rot and decay that surrounded them.
He and his mother reached the Redwood Forest, and one night while they hunted, he took off in pursuit of their quarry; and a shrill sound filled the night. His prey startled and took flight, and the pup just shy of six moons never saw his mother again.
He wandered deeper into the woods and weeks later a Family of Berserkers who had a trio of female pups close to his age came across him just outside of The Crystal Caves, he thin and gangly, drinking from a nearby water source, trying and failing to catch a fish; too tired and weak to hunt, but desperate to survive.
The mother, BloomingRose, called to him and he was wary and kept his distance.
He'd been moving almost non-stop since he'd lost his mother, but had finally found some place familiar to stop. He was still a stranger in a strange land and he didn't know who to trust. He was wild eyed and all teeth. The father, SettingSun bristled at his aggressive response, but sidled off at the n** he received from his mate.
It was when one of the three young females approached him, her head down, ears back, tail low and wagging in a show of friendliness, that his guard lowered. She was younger than him, almost by a full season, if he had to guess. He wasn't going to hurt a female, or a pup, for that matter, his mom had taught him better.
He calmed and he let her near. She sniffed him as he stood stiff legged, tail tucked against his stomach. She spoke quietly, timidly, but her voice was so sweet he could not help but let some of the edge ease out of his figure. She introduced herself as ShimmeringDew, and introduced her two sisters, BleedingThorn, and MourningDove.
As the pups surrounded him and beckoned him closer to their parents, he went cautiously.
Their mother licked his face and cleaned the dirt from around his eyes and ears, and their father sniffed his ears, his jaw, scruff, and circled him slowly. He kept his eyes averted and his head lowered, and the male nosed his neck and spoke quietly, the deep timbre of his voice little more than a growl as he beckoned the male pup to come with them.
They took him in and they raised him among their own. They were wilder and more savage than his mother had ever been. They were not unkind, but he soon learned there was a bitterness in the mother, and the world was a cold, brutal reality that was black and white in the eyes of SettingSun.
It took him time to adjust to their views of the world, but he learned over time it was because they'd lost one of their sons the summer prior during a hunt – he'd fallen prey to a Rogue Male who had wandered into the territory.
They doted on him and raised him as they would have their son, and when he reached his 12th moon, they bestowed upon him their surname, Twilight.
A year later, they told him that they planned to go to the circle where the Veil opened, and they would travel to the world beyond it; one of their daughters had dreamed they would find her Brother there. They intended, if refused, to enter by force; they were determined and would not be held back, and he knew it was true.
He had been raised through the last year of seasons to be calculating, ruthless and cold, because the world would allow for nothing else – but that was not what his mother wanted for him. He knew that, deep in his heart, and while he remembered the stories of a magical land his mother regaled him with – he did not believe that the magic could restore what he had lost, nor what his new family wanted for.
None-the-less, when the winter solstice of his third year drew nearer, they prepared for the journey and he prepared alongside them, training for whatever they might face.
They had heard a number of stories and rumors about the circle of Thorns where the great stones once stood. They gathered what stories they could and they pieced together what they thought must be the truths.
Dove and Thorn had taken to hunting with mother, and ShimmeringDew, she spent most of her time with PhoenixAsh. Ash enjoyed her presence, she was sweet, and her voice soothed him. She was different than her parents and her sisters. She still saw beauty in the world.
When it was time to depart, the girls were told they were to stay at home with BloomingRose, and that PhoenixAsh, SettingSun, and SettingSun's two brothers, RisingMoon and BreakingDawn were going to be going to retrieve the lost son; FallingLeaves. It was the first time Ash heard his name spoken.
The girls were outraged, more so Thorn than Dove or Dew. Dew believed steadfast in her vision, and she believed in her father, and in Ash. Thorn wanted to be there to fight, and Dove wanted to see the magic. BloomingRose however, took the news with grace and hushed her girls, promising them a hunt worthy of celebration; this at least, dissuaded them from being too angry.
So it was, the four males set out. They traveled through The Redwood, their home was at the base of a small cluster of mountains, where a river ran along the outskirts of the woods. They traveled through thick forest, between two small hillsides, and into sparser tree coverage.
The trip took a couple of days from their home den to reach the circle where the great stones once stood.
The Stonehenge circle had become overgrown with a wild thicket of brambles dappled with thorns and looked foreboding.
They stretched as far as his blue eyes could see and as he lowered his head to the ground to sniff at the damp earth, amidst the familiar petrichor, he smelled those who had passed in years gone by; the scents were old and faded, but among them, so faint he almost missed it, was a scent that struck a chord deep in his heart.
A long time ago, his mother had traveled this path.
A scent that struck the same chord but created some dissonance deep down caught his attention. It was fresher. It was newer. They were not alone here. It was two days until the solstice and they had arrived with time to rest and make changes to the plan if they needed to.
His party withdrew and he turned to SettingSun, “I'm going to inspect the perimeter and look for gaps in the defenses or a potential entry point.” The father's ears perked up and his tail wagged a few brief waves of approval. “That's my Boy.”
They nudged opposing shoulders in a show of camaraderie and they stepped away in opposite directions. Focusing on the scent once more – Ash let it guide him into the shadows.
The scent traveled for some time. It circled the ring of thorns and brambles and then eventually moved away. He followed the scent to a small coastline that hedged the continent. He saw the silhouette of a Berserker, sitting passively on the shore, gazing out over the water. Ash approached cautiously and the wind shifted, blowing against him.
A female.
Her ears flicked back and her head turned. Her eyes glowed a soft seafoam green in the moon light. “You've traveled far.” Her voice was quiet, but there was a sureness to it. He suspected she didn't mean his most recent trek.
“Who are you?” He asked, falling still where he stood. “I'm a part of you.” Her response was cryptic, but as she stood and moved towards him, he could see her better. Her pelt was not quite as dark as he'd thought – instead it was the color of the sky after sunset, between dusk and the fall of night. There were streaks in her fur that illuminated faintly in the pale light of the moon, giving her a pastel outline.
“Look, I don't know who you think I am, but you'd better start making sense or I'm going to stop asking questions and let my teeth do the talking for me.” He growled, hackles raising. They didn't need some stranger getting in the way. He still didn't believe they had a chance at succeeding, but the last thing they needed was an added complication.
“My name is Evereve. I am the daughter Embersbane and Willowspark.” She waited, her expression evidently expectant, but when he showed no signed of recognition and started to bristle with impatience, her gaze softened and understanding crossed her visage.
“I suppose, you never knew our mother by her name... and you never met our father... He was the reason mother fled, after all...” He scoffed, “What do you mean 'Our' Mother?” He was close to snapping but she remained impassively calm. She placed her paw in the sand, pressed her claws in deeper and dragged her paw up and away from the imprint she'd left, and he gazed at symbol; a paw print that appeared to be engulfed in billowing flames.
“That mark...” The hostility bled out of him; he knew it, though it had been many moons since last he'd seen it. “Yes. Our mother's war paint. On her shoulder, curving down her side li-” he finished the sentence, “Like wings... I remember, they were so faded the last time I laid eyes on them.”
Her head lowered, ears back. “I was there... when our father's hunters found her. He sent me with them, to see what happened to wolves who disobeyed him. I got in the way, and I was attacked. I got thrown, and I fell off of the rocky ledge. When I woke, one of the hunters was dead. The other was gone, though a trail of blood told me he did not leave unscathed... but our mother...”
He nodded. “I heard the attack... at the end. I was too late. I'd been hunting, and we'd gotten separated... I didn't make it back to save her.”
She touched his cheek gently and his ears laid back, his form tensing at the unfamiliar touch but as he warmed to her presence slowly and he picked up the scent of pain in her, he gently returned the gesture. “You. You've been alone all this time since?” Ash asked his sister, and Eve nodded.
“I found my way back to The Crystal Caves. The rabbits that come to feed on the vegetation are plentiful, and I learned how to flush them into the caves and corner them.”
They spoke for some time still, and finally Ash asked Eve what she was doing here, of all places. The femme explained that once, when they were very little, their mother told them all of the place stones once stood, where the door to a magical place would be opened by the Moon on the night of the Winter Solstice.
“You were a season behind us, you see. So I was old enough to remember. I hoped we would cross paths here. That my questions would be answered. They were. You still live, and you're healthy and strong. That's all I ever cared about.”
Eve stood and stretched. “Now, I can go and see what the world holds for me without the unknown holding me back.”
“Beware the Guardians. They may look like Prey, but they are powerful, fearless and strong. Whatever that pack you're with is planning – it might not turn out the way they're hoping.” she paused, and as he turned to look at her, their eyes met.
“Remember, little brother. You're not alone in the world. We're out there. We love you. You're old enough to see the world through your own eyes, you don't need anyone's black and white mirrors, or blood red masks to find your way.”
Her words led him to believe that she'd been closer by in her travels than she might be telling, but he understood. He knew that trying to enter the veil by force was dangerous, and that even if they succeeded, they would not find what they were seeking.
He knew the dead could not be returned. They were at rest, and that is where they must remain.
He'd known this for some time, deep in his heart, but he knew how strongly Dew believed in her vision. Dream. Her Dream. She was a berserker. Berserkers weren't seers. He also knew how strong Sun's conviction was. Convincing him otherwise was going to be a battle, and he knew it was one he'd lose.
However – he'd soon come to find out it was a battle he wouldn't be fighting.
A howl tore through the night as he sat gazing out over the water; lost in contemplation over everything that had transpired. The howl was urgent and wounded and it drew him back with haste.
When he returned to his traveling group, he heard a commotion and raced to find out what was happening. It all transpired so quickly that he'd all but missed what had happened.
In his brief absence his traveling party had done a little scouting of their own, drawing in against the brambles, which, in the light of the risen moon, seemed almost to come to life. They resembled twisting, writhing snakes, all teeth exposed. There was a shimmer in the air that was like heat rising over sun baked sand.
The circle of thorns was only partially eclipsed by the moonlight, but it was evident that the veil was thinning as the Solstice drew nearer and the thorny vines were preparing to welcome travelers to the place where the worlds met.
The wolf who had taken him into his family lay prone on the ground, bleeding, his breathing labored; his brothers stood to either side of him, clearly on guard, ears pointed and swiveling, their hackles raised and teeth bared, claws digging into the earth beneath them, bodies half crouched and ready to attack.
He approached them, and he watched as a pair of Peryton stepped from the dark; one wounded and limping, and the other bearing his antlers and hooves tipped in blood. He lowered his head menacingly and stomped his foot, the other Peryton reared back, brandishing deadly hooves. They were speaking, but he was too far away to hear the words spoken.
He sprang into action, racing to intervene, but BreakingDawn snarled and leaped at the Peryton that was reared, attempting to get beneath the hooves to go for the stomach or throat.
“NO!” Ash cried out for them to stop, but he wouldn't reach them in time to save the elder guardian.
Just then, a flash of luminescent paint and seafoam eyes sprang from the umbra of shadows surrounding the mass of thorny vines and a heavy blue-black body collided with the red and orange berserker male and immediately the Peryton both darted, disappearing to safety as both BreakingDawn and RisingMoon attacked his sister.
Fear clutched his heart and his legs moved even faster. As he drew nearer he could hear snapping jaws, snarling, growling and he leaped into the fray fearlessly. He grabbed BreakingDawn by the back of the neck and he twisted him away when his mouth opened in an attempt to get a better grip on the female beneath him. The distraction gave her the opportunity she needed to throw RisingMoon off of her.
He scrambled for purchase on the ground, claws dragging through the dirt as he held on to BreakingDawn who lunged and twisted in a vain effort to throw him off. Ash wrapped his forelegs around the older male's shoulders and lurched backwards, pulling the male off his feet and disrupting his sense of balance and once he was disoriented and his legs had begun to flail, Ash released his shoulders and threw him aside.
RisingMoon was getting ready to attack Eve again, and as he launched, Ash leaped, hitting him from the side with crushing force. He could hear ribs break as his shoulder collided with the male's side, and watched as his body slammed into the wall of thorns, stuck for a few moments before sliding down, and collapsing when his paws touched the ground. There were thin red furrows in his grey-blue pelt that were slowly growing darker as blood rose to the surface of his thick skin.
Ash stepped backwards, coming into contact with SettingSun who was struggling to stand. “What have you done?” His voice rumbled with pain, but was heavy with emotion as he dragged himself to his brother. “My little brother,”
RisingMoon's breaths came in wheezing gasps, he pulled his legs under him but could not rise. BreakingDawn had regained his senses, having taken a blow to the head when he was thrown. He raced to his brothers and Ash turned to look at Eve who was slowly approaching him.
There was a limp to her step, her ears laid flat against her skull.
“Ash,” she whispered.
“You have to go, Eve. You need to get out of here. Before they kill you. They will never forget this, they will never forgive.” He nosed her gently. “Go. Please.”
Eve looked at him through pained eyes, regret making her heart heavy. “I'm sorry.” She whispered, turning to race into the sparse line of trees, gradually passing further from sight.
When he turned back to the three males, SettingSun was licking RisingMoon's wounds and BreakingDawn was sitting with his head bowed. Ash approached slowly, greeted by teeth and snarling.
He lowered himself to his stomach and crawled closer, his ears pinned back, “We need to leave, before the guardians come back.” He said softly, knowing that they were in no condition for another confrontation.
SettingSun rose and he turned on Ash, moving faster than the younger anticipated possible in his condition. The young male was pinned, teeth at the back of his neck where his skull connected. The snarl of the male told him he would kill him without a second thought if he tried to fight.
Ash remained tense and unmoving as BreakingDawn nosed and lifted RisingMoon's form onto Ash's back and when he was safely gathered, SettingSun released him. “You will carry him, and if he dies before we return home to a healer, you will bear the weight of his death for the rest of your life.”
BreakingDawn helped SettingSun stand, and supported him in the slow trek back, while Ash carried RisingMoon's heavy form, listening as his breathing grew gradually weaker and weaker until late that night, it all together ceased. The weight of his body and the cold chill of death settled over him like a blanket heavier than his guilt, and left a sickness in his heart and chains on his soul.
When they returned home to the den, SettingSun rested amongst his mate and daughters, and under the watchful eyes of BreakingDawn, PheonixAsh worked tirelessly to dig a proper burial place for RisingMoon. He was silent, uncomplaining, and that night, as they pushed the dirt over RisingMoon's form and bid the ancients take him into their fold, they turned on PheonixAsh.
They stripped him of the name they had bestowed upon him, and disavowed him from their family completely. He looked pleadingly at the faces against him, but not even ShimmeringDew would meet his eyes, instead closing hers tight and screaming at him to leave her family alone, and that he would never be one of them. BleedingThorn lunged at him, as did BreakingDawn, eager to chase him out of the territory.
A snarl erupted from the one who had been silent through it all; stilling their attack and his retreat. He turned his blue eyes to the matriarch of the small family group and BloomingRose stood stiff legged, tail raised, hackles standing, ears forward, teeth bared and lips furled; “Let him Run. Let him Live. With the weight of RisingMoon's death and the knowledge that we will never forgive his betrayal.”
Let him run. Let him Live.
But Do not Forget what we Can Not Forgive.
He is Not. One of Us.
Ash turned, tail low and ears back and he ran.
He ran until he was exhausted, then continued on until his paws bled. He ran until he stumbled every few steps and finally, inevitably, collapsed. He didn't know what length of time had passed, but he knew finally, the pain in his feet and his legs, and his shoulders and back, for the moment, outweighed the pain in his heart.
Exhaustion was so all-consuming that he didn't feel his form being lifted from the hard earth and carried. When he woke, he was in a familiar place but he was alone. The scent of his sister lingered still, but he knew she was gone. A poultice was on his paw pads and within reach was a small shallow pool of water.
The cave around him glowed faintly and he felt comforted.
It soothed the ache in his heart and lulled him back into a welcome sleep, embraced by warmth and familiarity and love.
My mind's a haze With all this pain And I can't change a thing
I'm down on my knees I need some relief Some quiet and peace
All of these chains Weighing down on me
Weighing down
All of these chains Weighing down on me.
(Entry Word Count: 2,707)
"There are wonderful wolves waiting just beyond our new borders, should we choose to explore and scout them." - Swiftfell Elder Dusk Owl; Pack Gathering.
PheonixAsh had been on his own for a couple of years; he had come to terms with the tragedy that he'd been a part of. He came to accept his part in it and the life he took. He knew that the life of RisingMoon ended so that his sister might continue to live; he knew that life was about choices and sacrifices, and living with the decisions made.
He had made a decision, and he decided at the end of the day, he had no regret. But so too did he decide that for as long as he lived, he would only ever bare tooth or claw to hunt, and to protect.
When he set off on his own, he followed a familiar path back towards the territory inhabited by the Twilight berserkers. He caught sight of one of the girls briefly, and for a time he traveled along the small river that flowed south west of their den.
Eventually his feet carried him through a small, tightly clustered forest that gave way into the roots of an old mountain range.
Heading further south out of The Redwood, he examined this new, unfamiliar land as it unfolded before him. It looked like at one time it had been home to a sizeable pack, but the scents were all old and fading.
His nose led him down through the mountain pass into a new forest. As he skirted lower, he found himself in open plains. The sun was bright, but not overwhelming. The wind blew, tousling his coat.
There was a bitter chill in the air as the promise of winter crept closer.
He was quickly approaching the far reaches of the region, the further most south west expanse an unfamiliar sight for wandering eyes; but of course, not knowing where you were did not necessarily mean one was lost. After all, to be lost is to have a destination and to lose your way on the road to get there. To wander with no destination is simply exploration.
He trotted along the creek that bordered what he thought must have been a Pack's territory. There was a scent on the air that told him not far off was a group of numerous wolves, though he could not tell how many nor what kind simply by the scent of them.
A calling reached down into his soul and as he drew nearer, he stopped to lay outside the border of thick woods, resting in a warm beam of light that filtered through rippling canopy. There were birds singing and crickets chirping in welcome.
Rising to his feet, he stepped into the woods, alive with sound and suddenly, just like that, the deafening cacophony silenced. He paused where he stood and a slow smile curled the corners of his mouth. The birds were like an alarm. How quaint! Ingenious, actually.
His posture was calm, head lowered, tail at rest, ears swiveling to take in new sounds around him. He wagged his tail as a hare stepped out of the underbrush of a bush, just on the edge of his peripheral. He stopped moving, and he lowered himself, crouching, muscles tensing, claws curling into the earth for purchase.
His eyes tracked the hare, and when the wind favored him and blew in his direction, he picked up the scent of prey, and interestingly, another wolf. He moved in silence, stepping into shadow to try and locate the other hunter.
When he caught sight of the other wolf, he hesitated briefly. He was equal parts surprised and delighted to see an older wolf who seemed to enjoy doing his own hunting still. Despite the hunters best intentions however, Ash could see the slight limp in the old wolf's step and the slow caution in his gait. Perhaps he could assist him, since he was passing through.
The older wolf timed his action with a moment of distraction where the rabbit stopped to groom herself and as the hare bolted, feinted and he tried to follow, a mis-step put him off balance in just the right position that a sharp pain shot up his hip and his back leg faltered enough to give him pause.
Ash was zeroed in on the rabbit, she was zig-zagging, unaware that she went unpursued. Ash readied himself and as she made a dive for the bush that had him mostly hidden from view he leaped and his jaws found purchase around her neck and shoulders.
She fought for an instant, feet kicking and neck twisting side to side, but one hard shake of his head was all it took to end the struggle. He turned to look in the direction he'd expected to see the elder arrive from in pursuit and instead saw that he was lying on the ground, looking dreadfully annoyed.
While “dreadfully” wasn't normally a word in Ash's vernacular, he couldn't help but find it appropriate. He was certain for a moment he heard the old wolf muttering to himself, and he didn't want to startle him, and so he called out, “Hello, there. You seemed to have misplaced something.” He approached, his gait cautious but his body language friendly.
The elder wolf's ears pricked up and swiveled towards the voice, his head and finally eyes followed. They landed on a behemoth of a wolf and his brows rose in surprise at the creature before him. “Oh? Well, I can't say I'm not prone to losing track of things these days. Might I ask your name, friend? I am Dusk Owl, Elder member of the Triad that makes up the Point here in the Swiftfell Pack.”
Ash was amicable as he drew in nearer, “PheonixAsh is my name, and, I believe this is yours.” He offered, dropping the rabbit at the other wolf's paws.
Dusk Owl seemed taken aback, though perhaps there was a mixture of pleasant surprise. “It is not every day a strange wolf gives up their kill to an old man.” He said thoughtfully.
Ash, unfazed, responded lightly. “I hope you won't take offense; I was happening by when I saw you hunting, and well, I've been traveling for some time and a little excitement was just what I needed to break up the monotony. The hare just happened in my direction, so I thought I'd join in on the fun. That said, I would never rob another wolf of his lunch.”
Dusk Owl was intrigued by the newcomer and he moved to accept the rabbit, but as he moved to rise, another sharp pain stilled his movements. His ears lay back and his eyes closed for a moment. There was a chill in the air and it bit deep, seeping into every sore crevice within him. “Very kind of you. It seems that I may be out her for a little while longer than I'd have preferred, perhaps in exchange for a shared meal, I can convince you not to rob me of your company instead?” He asked with a wry chuckle.
It wasn't that he needed the wolf's presence, but conversating was as good a way to pass the time as any.
Ash could see the elder of them was in pain and piecing together the limp and the reluctance to move his back legs too much, he reasoned the pain was in the male's back or hips. A few feet away, his eyes caught sight of what appeared to be a bear skin. A good sniff told him it belonged to the male in question and he walked by him to pick the skin up in his jaws, bringing it back to the male and laying it over his form.
“ I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere. My time is yours,” he offered, voice pitched low, edged with kindness.
He laid beside the male, and for awhile they talked. They discussed Dusk Owl's pack, and his bad hip, in turn, Ash shared his past, and what had driven him into the territory. He asked questions about where the pack came from, and as Dusk Owl spoke and they grew comfortable with each other's company, Ash gradually moved closer, curling around the dire wolf to shield his smaller frame from the biting wind, and to envelop him in a shared warmth.
Dusk Owl told him the story of their pack's first home, recounting the mountains they once inhabited. Listening, Ash would occasionally ask questions and finally they came to the conclusion that the small mountain range the berserker had traveled through on his journey was the same as the one they'd left behind when the illness swept over the pack.
It was late afternoon when their paths crossed, Dusk Owl it seemed had been early to rise among his semi-nocturnal pack mates. “I passed a set of caves late yesterday, they smelled of healing herbs. I can help you get there, and perhaps with something for the pain you can get back to your den to rest.” Ash suggested, unassuming and intent to help and be on his way.
While it wasn't in Dusk Owl's nature to let a younger wolf hunt for him, or see his ailment, this stranger had proven he meant well, and he seemed to have no ulterior motives as far as Dusk could tell. He allowed for Ash to move nearer to block the cold, and truthfully, the warmth eased the pain significantly, but he knew it was unlikely that he would be very mobile that night without something for the pain and the inflammation.
“I would appreciate your help in getting there. Frankly, these old limbs aren't what they used to be. Genetics are not always the boon we might hope.” He chuckled. Ash stood with him and he helped ease him up to find his feet.
As they trekked, Ash's thoughts turned to distraction. They arrived at the cave and he watched as they responded defensively, but the serene old wolf with wisps of silver and white in his muzzle soothed them with a few soft words. He laid outside of the cave passively and gazed up at the sky.
There were so many scents here. The wolves here were much smaller than himself and something about Dusk Owl awakened the protector in him. They had spoken at length about the toll the illness had taken on the Flock and how hard rebuilding the pack had been.
He wondered if perhaps a Berserker would ever be considered for their pack. Dusk Owl had mentioned that his younger years when the pack was thriving and plentiful, he had been a member of the “Old Guard” but that in the years recent, the Old Guard ways had all but died out. Could he learn them and bring them back?
Dusk Owl cleared his throat, breaking the silence and pulling Ash from his thoughts. “Good to see you back on your feet, little master.” the berserker said lightheartedly.
The elder wolf gave him a knowing look. “I'm about to head to my Den to rest. I wanted to thank you.”
Ash bowed his head, rising to his feet. “It was my great privilege and an honor to give you my time today.” there was more he wanted to say. More he wanted to know. “Perhaps we will cross paths again, and you will honor me with more of the history of your pack... your Flock... and the ways of the Old Guard.”
Dusk Owl contemplated the silence that followed for a while. The pack needed new blood. Males to help spread genetics through the lines. They needed protectors. This male was large, powerful, strong, but cared deeply for the well-being of others. He knew the lands outside of the pack and he had ventured into and out of the old pack lands.
As far as Dusk Owl was concerned, the boy had earned his place when he saw that the old wolf got his lunch, and stayed to look after him until he had the strength to be guided to the cave for care. But there was still the Alpha and the Beta to convince.
Dusk Owl laid down once more, reserving his energy. “Let me tell you one more story, before we part.” He said softly. Ash carefully adjusted the bear pelt to better cover the older male and he laid down in a way that his form would stave off any chill.
Dusk Owl waited for his attention, then spoke: "Sometimes my memory flies back to the old lands, and I forget myself. For instance, now that we've really settled this land, I regret not remembering to bring a seed from home. There was an oak tree my ancestors had planted many, many moons ago; I should have thought to bring an acorn and plant it here, carry on the tradition and such."
Listening, Ash's ears perked up as he understood the hidden message. A few questions to clarify, and soon he was rising to his feet, aiding the old wolf to stand.
“I have a feeling our paths will cross again, PheonixAsh.” The elder said with a coy smile.
Ash bowed his head and they parted ways.
The trip to the mountain range felt like it lasted longer than any trek he'd taken in his well traveled past. He let his feet guide him, opening his heart and mind, pleading to be led to the correct tree. Following the land marks that had been described to him, finally on exhausted feet the Berserker fell at the complex knotting of the root system of the great tree.
In the time since the pack had left, other creations had crept into the mountain's valley.
The distinct screech a puma reached his resting ears and he was motivated to continue.
Some hours passed and in the fading rays of sunlight, he found a great and massive acorn that smelled so very alive, fresh, and virile.
His return trip was measured as he was careful not to lose or damage the acorn. When he arrived back in the woods wherein the pack resided, he approached respectfully, requesting an audience with the Point.
As he was guided before the Point and he lowered his head, and lay down the acorn he had traveled so far to find. He stepped forward, nosing it towards Dusk Owl.
“I come before you with an offering of peace, and a gift from the heart,,, This acorn was plucked from the mighty oaks planted and tended with love and affection by Dusk Owl's ancestors. I bring it to you today so that the Pack, who has seen so much change, might maintain a beloved tradition. In doing so... it is my hopes that my actions will give way to a potential new relationship between myself and the Swiftfell Pack."
Dusk Owl tenderly took the acorn and he looked to the other two members of the Point's triad. "This Wolf saw that I was in pain, he aided me in a hunt, then stayed with me until I had the strength to stand when my hip had given out. He shielded me from the cold with his body, and he listened to me rattle on about the old ways, simply to keep me company. He took me to the cave to see our healers and he stayed close by until I was fit to return to my den by my own strength. For his strength of character, and for proving he is true of heart, I speak for PheonixAsh, and give him my blessing before the court."
When asked by the remaining members of the Point his intentions, PheonixAsh simply stated: "My only intent is to harbor trust, and to offer my claws, my teeth, my body, my life, in protection of the Flock. I am PheonixAsh. I have been consumed by the flames of passion and rage in my past and have traveled far to rise from the Ashes to serve a purpose. May my wings shield and lift the flock and it's members to new heights, if you will deem me worthy.”
Posted: Wed Jun 10, 2020 9:04 am
And closed! Thank you all for your entries. We will be announcing a winner once we are able to read and discuss each of your works. Good job, everyone!
In Good Faith
Dapper Entrepreneur
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The Swiftfell
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Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2020 7:01 pm
We have a winner! Thank you, and welcome, PheonixAsh to the Swiftfell ranks! He will need to post to join here.
Straye
And a special, honorable mention to AlicornPlayhouse for runner up! Your great writing ability and effort you put into your entry has not gone unnoticed. We hope you will be joining the Swiftfell ranks in the future.
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