Ouroboros Spine yn rhedeg mewn cylchoedd

When he was a child, his mother--from the great Cadfael line, the warrior-poets--had told him stories. Not the honeyed nursery rhymes other parents in other cultures might give their pups; no, Rhonwen had given him history, legend, all in perfect verse. It was from these stories from which his fervor to become a great warrior sprung, and it is as he climbs the stout mountains to gaze upon the muddy, waterlogged valley below does one of Rhonwen's stories once again come to his mind.

"My grandfather was named for Colwyn, ruler of the rains," she whispered, curling her tail around her pups. Two of his sisters were asleep, but Seren--his favorite, though he'd never admit as much to the others--was keenly listening alongside him, still-blue eyes shining. "Many said that when Colwyn said the right words, the rain would fall."

But there were skeptics, naturally, and during the midst of a great battle came Colwyn's true test. It had been a particularly dry summer, and an army from the neighboring kingdom were coming swiftly to Mynydd, in numbers far greater than their rivals could boast. The only thing standing in their way was a river--but the river's waters were lower than ever, due to the drought, and the enemies would be able to forge it with ease. Desperate to preserve his honor and his lands, the king called upon Colwyn, his nephew right-hand man, to demonstrate his powers at last: to prove he was true, and not a charlatan like many others at court suggested.

Colwyn stood atop a rock, looking at the heavens, and began chanting in verse, eyes closed against the still summer air. For some time, nothing happened, and the wolves of Mynydd began to jeer; some called for his head. As he was being dragged from his perch by an angry mob, a clap of thunder silenced all, and clouds rolled in. Torrential rain began to fall, blanketing the ground in sheets of fresh water. The river began to rise, sweeping down, wave after wave, drowning all enemy warriors in its path. The army was defeated.

"He was a hero from there on out," Rhonwen said, a smile coming to her delicate muzzle. "When he eventually became king, he was one of the most beloved rulers Mynydd ever has had. We speak of him in the same breath as Taliesin and Cadwalader." A triumvirate of great kings, but Colwyn had always been his favorite; each and every clap of thunder brought his name to mind, and his mother's musical voice back into his head.

Now he stands atop these mountains, looking into the flooded valley. Some would say an act of god submerged this place, but Llewellyn knows better. This was Colwyn's work, and he feels at home here, despite the soggy ruin.

After her previous mishap, more mountains were the last thing Speedy wanted to see, but at least she knew where she was now. She was more at ease here even though she had never actually visited this particular spot. Once she made it through this little section of mountains, she could head back to where her friend usually was and check in.

She had reached what she thought was the summit, because she could see down into a water-filled valley. She had been walking along the edge, looking down curiously into the vale when she spotted an unkown male standing a little ways ahead of her who appeared to be doing the same thing. 

Speedy picked up her pace some, and when she was close enough to be heard, she let out a low chuff. She stopped a short distance from the stranger just in case; she was friendly but understood that not all wolves were the same way.

The gentle call touches his ears, and Llewellyn turns slowly to face the woman, eyes narrowing from instinct. The wounds left by the princess are still fresh, as is his humiliation in defeat. She does not carry herself quite like his rival, but she is a stranger, and because of that--and perhaps rightfully so--he is wary.

"Yes?" he asks tersely, ears folding back slightly as he speaks. He waits for her response, impatiently, ready to brush past her at a moment's notice. Perhaps the girl is used to charmers, and will be taken aback at his attitude. And make no mistake, he is a charmer, under the right circumstances--and he can't think of circumstances more different from the ideal than these of late. These lands have a distinct shortage of charmers, or so he has noticed; perhaps he fits in better here than one would think.

Speedy offered a friendly smile despite his shortness, not easily ruffled. That's interesting, isn't it? she asked lifting her head towards the water-filled valley. She took a few cautious steps towards the golden male, still unsure if he was friendly. She could tell by his scent that he was lone; months of roaming this area had taught her the difference been the scents of pack wolves and lone wolves, but that didn't help her much in determining of he had any dangerous intentions. During her wanderings, she had yet to meet anyone who wished to cause her harm, but she was always careful when first meeting strangers. As a lone wanderer, it would be easy to find herself in a dangerous situation, and her small stature didn't offer her much in the way of strength should she need to protect herself; she was quick and agile but could easily be overpowered, especially by a larger wolf with any skills in fighting. Speedy didn't let that keep her from being her overly-friendly self, though; she was too free-spirited and social to let anything deter her from meeting new wolves.

She turned her head from the valley and met his beautiful cerulean gaze with her golden one. What brings you here? she asked with friendly curiosity. Maybe he was a wanderer like she was? Speedy was always interested in other wolves stories.

To his surprise, she leaves personal questions aside, for now, commenting on the state of the valley. Perhaps the encounter with Minori has soured him too much; he glances over at her, brow quirking before his face relaxes into something impassive and neutral. He gives a brusque nod, looking down, gaze floating over the water.

"Devastating," he comments softly. "Such a beautiful valley once, one could imagine, and now. . .it is lost. A fire would have been kinder. Water. . ." Llewellyn looks at her, thinking of Colwyn again. "Men are so afraid of fire. They tell stories of its rage. But water is more powerful, more destructive. It is a beast, disguised as a child. Beautiful on the surface, destroying everything in its path."

He is just beginning to warm up to the woman when she drops a question, and he groans, the sound caught in his throat. At least it is not as invasive as anything the princess threw at him, but it still rubs him the wrong way, and he pauses a moment to compose himself before answering. "No choice of my own," Llewellyn mutters, face cast in sudden shadow. It is not a story he will tell her, even if she begs to hear it.

Speedy listened intently as he described water in a way she had never thought about it before. She just drank it when she was thirsty and tried to avoid it otherwise, as she didn't particularly like to swim or fish. She could understand what he meant, though. If the valley below had been ravaged by fire, it would have had a chance to regrow and return to it's previous beauty. The water that took residence there will now be there for the foreseeable future, keeping anything from growing back. She looked out over the water-filled vale as her mind wandered, and thought it was kind of sad that nothing would ever grow here again unless the water somehow drained. 

Speedy could tell her question bothered him a little, picking up the tension in his face and voice as he gave her a vague answer. Speedy pushed her ears back a little and lowered her head. I'm sorry, she said softly. Damn, she hadn't meant to bring up something uncomfortable for him; she was just a curious wolf. She made a mental note to stop asking strangers that question; it seemed half the time, it forced the recipient to revisit painful memories. Sensing his reticence, she decided a change of subject would be best. 

She lifted her head to meet his striking gaze again and offered him a shy smile. Have you been anywhere you really liked so far? Speedy asked, hoping the positive question would be easier for him to respond to.

And yet, she does not push. A newfound respect for her enters his eyes, and he turns his gaze to her once more, lingering upon her face before accepting her apology with a bow of his head, closing his eyes. He will say no more on the subject, not because it is too fresh, but because she has no right to any of the bloody tales he holds close to his heart, piercing like thorns. She was a girl of joy and fun; he saw it in her eyes, on her unblemished pelt, and he knew that to bring her the stories of his trauma would, in turn, bring her sorrow. Sorrow she did not need, nor deserve.

Instead, he ponders her more innocuous query, lips pulled firmly together in studious concentration. So focused as he has been on surviving, getting from one point to the next, that he hasn't really taken time to make note of the scenery. He finally shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders in hopeless non-answer. "I can't recall anywhere memorable," Llewellyn says, opening his eyes to look at her once more. "It is a beautiful land, no doubt. Perhaps when I have been here longer, I will be more. . .observant."

He cocks his head slightly to the left, away from the yawning basin, looking at her with interest. "And you?" he asks, some semblance of warmth in his tone. "You seem well-traveled, and enthusiastic about said travels. What has drawn your attention?" There was something enticing about her; perhaps it was how much she reminded him of his sisters, especially Eurwen, with her laughter like songbirds in spring trees.

Ah, Eurwen, fy chwaer. . .that you might be alive, somewhere, he prayed silently, fervently.

Speedy watched him as he considered her question, his handsome face morphing into a pensive expression. She smiled and nodded at his answer. She understood how overwhelming this place could be when first arriving. Initially, she was only concerned with staying alive and learning bout her surroundings; it wasn't until she had become more used to the areas she frequented that she actually started taking notice of places she liked. 

When he asked her about her travels, she smiled and met his gaze. Well, I spend a lot of my time in the grassland areas of the flatlands just east of here, she replied with a life of her head in the direction of the area to which she was referring. Recently, though, I made my way north to the coast, and found it to be really beautiful there. Speedy added, the smile returning to her face at the thought of the beautiful ocean and the way the sand felt beneath her paws. 

I'm Speedy by the way, she said a minute later when she realized she hadn't introduced herself yet.

He nods in obvious agreement with her answer, the corners of his lips curving into a pleased smile--rare, these days. "I, too, love the sea," he comments, eyes drifting to the horizon, where the blue line of the ocean rested solidly in the distance, a constant presence. "Water at its most powerful, to be sure," he remarks, looking over at the girl again. "The way the waves crash upon the cliffs. . ." He trails off with an inaudible sigh.

Speedy, her name is, and Llewellyn dips his head in greeting, trying to commit the name to memory. He only begins to panic when he realizes, a moment later, that the customary, polite response to this offering is to give your name back. He does not want to lie to the girl with such an honest face, but any name he gives her that is at all related to his family will give him away as the fugitive prince. He clears his throat, covering his tracks in a slightly awkward fashion.

"Cadwalader," he says at last, thinking of the great king, whose reign ended nearly a hundred seasons ago. "Pleasure to meet you, Speedy," Cadwalader rumbles, smiling once more. Perhaps, one day, she will know his true moniker; for now, that of a legendary monarch will do. And if her face creases in confusion, rather than wonder, the land of Mynydd is likely not known to her at all, which would make him feel all the more safe with her.

Speedy followed the male's gaze to the blue mass in the horizon that appeared to meet the sky. She listened as he talked about how powerful the water was and nodded her head in agreement. The sea definitely had warranted some hesitance from her. She wasn't much for swimming, but she surely wasn't going to do it out in the ocean where she could be carried away or eaten by some large marine creature. 

His name was not like any she had ever heard before. It sounded old and proper. She gave a polite bow of her head and replied, Nice you meet you too, Cadwalader. She couldn't help but return his smile with a friendly grin of her own. Your name is very unique. I like it, Speedy added a second later, golden gaze meeting his sapphire one. She had met quite a few wolves in her wanderings, and she was always intrigued by a pretty name.

He lets out a snort of amusement; he wonders what she would think of his true name. "Thank you," he responds, grinning wryly. "My father told me it means 'leader of the battle.' Sometimes I feel as if it is a name I hardly deserve." Too right about that. To disguise himself using the moniker of one of Mynydd's greatest kings was mere steps away from blasphemy.

Still, he thinks Cadwalader would not altogether disapprove. The wolves of Mynydd were crafty, constantly finding new ways to stay alive. If this is what it takes, then so be it, and Great Cadwalader could close his ears for now, if indeed offended by his decision.

"Where are you traveling?" Llewellyn asks, tilting his head slightly in inquiry. It seemed odd, for a young woman so seemingly naive to be alone. Did she have a family, or at least a pack? Winter was not so far away, and the season may be even more brutal than it was in Mynydd. Without help, she would starve. And as cool-hearted and callous as the golden wolf could be, he did not want to find her body frozen in the snow come midwinter--he had become somewhat fond of the girl.

Speedy frowned at his first comment. I'm sure that's not true, she said, her tone warm and genuine. She couldn't personally attest to his skills in battle, but he looked like a strong, capable wolf. There was also something about the way the male carried himself that screamed leader; she wasn't quite sure what that something was, but she had noticed it right away.

Speedy shrugged a little at his question before answering, I'm not traveling anywhere in particular. I pretty much live in the territory to the east of here and travel around there and sometimes to the surrounding areas when I get bored. The life of a wanderer suited her well right now; she got to explore and meet new wolves, only doing what she felt like doing. Sure, it was sometimes dangerous for her to be on her own, but she had fared pretty well so far.

If only you knew, he thinks with some sorrow, blinking back at Speedy. Still, he gives her a small, pleasant smile, accepting the compliment for what it is--a boon to his self-confidence from a pretty young woman. The fact that he had recently failed to keep his entire family safe from the enemy need not be mentioned, here. The story is too long, anyway.

"And you're not afraid, of being out on your own?" Llewellyn inquires, brows drawing together, his mouth firming in a slight frown. Winter is dangerous for any wolf by themselves; even the more innocuous fall season has its troubles for loners. He understands her wanderlust--understands it perfectly well, really; a barb constantly stuck in his homebody heart--but there are practical things to be considered, here. Self-preservation chief among them.

Thinking about Speedy's welfare also reminds him to consider his own place in these lands. The time is near to find a permanent home, at least through the freezing months. Briefly, he wonders if she would follow him to another pack's borders. Would she be satisfied with settling down, if only for a few moons?

Speedy shook her head at his question. Being on my own doesn't scare me, she replied, her tone resolute. She had fared pretty well on her own so far and felt like she was still pretty capable of doing so. Sure she was small, young, and sometimes naive, but she was tenacious and intelligent and had done a pretty good job of taking care of herself. 

But, there was one thing that scared her. Winter was around the corner, and she wasn't stupid enough to think she could survive it as a lone wolf. She shifted her gaze away from his as she said, I am a little worried about winter. I'm obviously not made to withstand frigid temperatures, and being alone during the winter scares me a little. It was the first time she had really admitted he fear out loud. It was something she had been worrying about in the back of her mind for a while now but had kind of been avoiding. She cringed at the idea of being forced to settle before she was ready, but when it came down to it, she would have to set her pride aside to keep herself alive; she would be a fool if she let herself die just to prove she was independent.

"As you should be," Llewellyn answers, his tone a bit sharp. Her declaration that solitude did not scare her had only served to deepen his frown. For all she was knowledgeable about these lands, she was young, and came off that way. Her pie-in-the-sky attitude would do her no favors, when winter came knocking and the creatures of these lands became cold and hungry. Desperation turned good men into thieves, and bad ones into demons.

Still, he is somewhat glad that she at least had considered the negative aspects of her situation, especially as summer reaches its climax. The prince lets out a long breath through his nostrils, trying to regain his composure once more. She has time, anyway. Time enough to find a home, at least, if it comes to that. And it will come to that. What else will she do?

"I, too, must find a home before the snow starts to fall," he says, looking mournfully into the valley. How long, until the water below turns to ice? "A pity. It is not my favorite of seasons. But it has its place." He glances back up at Speedy. Rests his gaze upon her face, silent and contemplative for a long moment. "If we meet again, I promise that I will not let you freeze."

A chivalrous offer, to be sure. Would his father have had it any other way? Llewellyn had been raised by a king, not a pauper. A courtier, not a savage. This is his bended knee to her, a pledge, of sorts. Protection and care. Whether the impetuous girl will take it is entirely up to her.

Speedy's brows drew together at the harshness of his tone, immediately picking up the displeasure in his features but not quite sure of it's cause. He turned to look at the valley then, his expression turning sad, and went on to explain that he didn't like winter, and she thought maybe he was just concerned about the inevitable cold season, too. She also hated the winter, but agreed there were reasons for its existence, as miserable as it was for her.

She gave Cadwalader a warm smile when he offered to keep her from freezing should she need it. He was clearly very kind to offer shelter from the cold to someone he barely knew. That's very sweet of you, Cadwalader, she said softly, meeting his gaze. Hopefully, I will be able to find you if I'm in need of shelter when the weather starts to get too cold, she added a second later. She had no clue where either of them would be by then, but she appreciated the offer regardless of whether or not she would actually be able to take him up on it. And if you ever find yourself in need of a healer, I can usually be found somewhere around here or the territory east of here, Speedy offered. She had started learning from her healer mother before she left home and knew enough to help in most situations.

His eyes widen slightly in intrigue at her remarks. He wouldn't have pegged her as a healer--huntress or scout was his best guess--but she did have a caring nature about her that usually lent itself well to tending patients. His lips curve in the faintest of smiles, and he dips his head to her in quiet acquiescence, putting away this information for potential use if--when?--needed.

"Perhaps it will be me seeking you out, and not the other way around," he responds, eyes warming with humor--not quite the icy orbs they had been, upon her greeting. Speedy has won him over; it is painted clear as day over his face. It is with some reluctance, then, that he realizes some time has passed since they began their conversation, the day grows long, and he is not in the habit of extended sightseeing tours. The valley is beautiful enough, but he must move on.

The prince blinks softly at her. "I must go," he says, tone succinct but kind. "I hope we can find each other again, sooner rather than later." There is apology written over his face for his abrupt exit, yet he believes she will understand. She is a wanderer, too--and they both likely know that idle paws make a dull brain. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Speedy. Hwyl fawr."

With quiet steps, he pads away from the edge, careful not to lose his footing, and begins to pick his way down the mountain;

Stealing one last look over his shoulder at the girl he leaves behind.

Speedy grinned at his words, glad to have planted the seeds of friendship with the mysterious male with striking eyes. When he stated that he needed to get going, her smile fell a little, but she understood. They had been there for a while, and he probably had things to do, as did she. Well, not really, but she was getting hungry. 

She nodded at his departing words. I hope for that, too. she said, the warm smile returning to her face. And, the pleasure was mine, she added with a bow of her head. She watched him walk away, and when he turned back to glance over his shoulder, she smiled at him once more. Once he was gone, she began to make her way back down the cliff side.  When she reached the ground, she would head back towards the flatlands to see what food nature could provide her with today.