Wolf RPG

She had been taken aback to learn of the captive that was being kept, his name unknown to her. She had yet to see him but she had heard he was being kept in a cave nearby.

Lorne had ventured to the side of the territory she frequented least in search of him. If he was being kept prisoner it was likely he was hungry. She held in her mouth a peace offering to the male, some meat and willow.
 
She would never go against her Heda, she was too loyal. But somewhere in the quiet she wolf's heart she knew that keeping prisoners was wrong. She hoped to ease any pain that might be inflicted on him and give him nourishment.

She followed his scent to a small cave, before ducking inside. She was unsure of what she would find and braced herself for it.

Sorry for the delay!

 
Storm looked up as he caught the sounds of a soft-footed pack member outside. He cringed slightly; not that he had been badly treated since his initial capture, but he was beginning to realise that his leg was healing, and soon he would be asked what he could do for his pack. The answer: nothing.
 
The lady who came into the cave held meat and something greenish in her muzzle. He considered it could be for him (often his guards presented him with meat, but it was usually the gnarly ends of hooves, or other such fodder to keep him alive). He was skinnier than he ever had been, and the muscles in his legs were beginning to atrophy – luckily his leg had stopped hurting when he stepped on it, and he could not limp short distances without too much effort. He would have to build his strength slowly, but in short Lucani was a miracle worker with the poor resources she had been allowed to spend on him.
 
Storm looked over his new companion’s pretty face, and he laboriously pushed himself up into a seated position, his ears  and shoulders low. The whip-ish tail tucked under his bum gave a few tiny wags of supplication and Storm’s eyes settled on the meat in her mouth. Drool collected in the corners of his mouth despite his best intentions.
 
He was nothing better than a whipped dog in a cage, starved of freedom, desperate for any attention.

He was the oddest wolf she had ever seen but undoubtedly at least half wolf if not more. He was malnourished with a healing leg, lacking in muscles from his treatment. She gazed upon him sadly, wondering how he had become this half starved thing. Not by choice certainly. 

She approached slowly, not wanting to startle him. Her stance was neutral, neither imposing submission nor giving it. She sat the meat before his paws, obviously offering it to him though silently. She moved back, keeping the willow for now, so that he could eat.

By now he was used to stares, and he was used to pity. It was the attention he garnered and therefore he hoarded it towards himself to contemplate in his quiet moments – pity was a better emotion than apathy.
 
When she came towards him his tail stilled, but when she deposited the meat he carefully watched her. She moved back, leaving it at his paws. With her clearly giving him permission to eat this food, Cirrus dropped his head and wolfed the food down in a few bites and swallows. His belly was sated, for he could only eat little given his scant rations, but his hunger would remain for a short time before his belly could relay the information to his mind. He knew this. Cirrus licked his lips and peered back up at the kind lady with brown eyes, large in his skinny face. He did not tend to speak first – an automatic defence mechanism.
 
He felt he should give her something back, but he had nothing to give, not even a smile.
 
Instead, his tail wagged thrice more, before it lay bedraggled and despondent once more upon the floor of his prison.

He did not speak, only stared at her with haunted eyes that stood out from his gaunt face. She found she could not meet them easily, seeing what had happened to this odd wolf, on account of her people. 

She moved forward once more, laying the willow at his feet. After moving back she gave a bit of explanation,"It's willow. For the pain." Her voice was hoarse, raspy. She didn't choose to speak often. 

She didn't know if he would take it or not, he was most likely wary of her. He had a right to be for not everyone was as kind as she. He could take it or not, she wouldn't push him.

He flinched only once when she moved in close, but he had no real reason to fear anyone would be violent towards him besides Goliath. All others had been disinterested or careful around him. Cirrus gazed down at the willow as her voice filtered into his dulled senses and advised him of what it was.
 
“Thank you.” His words were cut short by an emotional bubble in his throat. Carefully Cirrus’s eyes lifted to meet with her chin – never her eyes – and he allowed another wag of his tail. “Do… I eat it?” He asked, for he did not know what willow did, and he wasn’t sure if he needed to press it on the wound. He was no healer.
 
That someone would care enough to try and ease his pain and source him some pain relief, brought him great relief. The wolves of this pack seemed considerate. Lucani had been allowed by her alphas to give him only the bare  of herbs, and he felt constant dull aches in his leg which he would appreciate being gone for a day.

He finally spoke, his voice as misused as her own. There must not be much reason for speech as a prisoner, who would bother? His eyes never met her own, not that it bothered her. She had never been one to force submission from those lower than her, though she gave it to those above her or those that deserved it of her.

She nodded in response. He would have to ingest it for the painkiller to work effectively. "Yes," she rasped quietly from where she sat, tone gentle so as not to frighten him.

She sat patiently nearby, and nodded at his question. Cirrus watched her carefully and she spoke with an unusual voice, one which rasped at the air with a grating yet pleasing quality. It was nice to hear sounds in his prison, for usually the silence of the cave was shattered only by his own movements. With her instructions mind, Cirrus lowered his head to nudge the willow once, before taking it in his mouth and chewing it a couple of times until it was broken enough to ingest. It didn’t occur to him it would be anything other than what she said – a painkiller.
 
Once he had the bitter tasting thing washed down his throat, Cirrus hesitated. She seemed quiet and calm. It stilled his nerves, which were almost constantly on edge these days. After a few careful seconds, the slight and skinny wolf seated himself on the ground a pace from her. Usually not one to speak first, her own lack of speech caused Cirrus to boldly venture a question: “Do you have a sister?”
 
An unusual question, unless you resided in Cirrus’s current state of mind.

Her brow quirked at the odd nature of his inquiry. It wasn't a typical question, not one you asked idly in passing. It was a pointed, specific question that caused her to wonder why he would want to know about her sisters. 

She eyed him warily, unsure what he would gain from such information. Why did he even care? She was not as distrustful as he but she was hesitant in nature. She finally nodded, deciding it couldn't hurt to tell him. "Many. And brothers too. What of you?" It was the most she had spoken in quite awhile, she had no friends to speak of and no one to idly chat with as he must not either. Isolation didn't bode well for relationships.

At first he thought she wouldn't answer. The amber beauty measured her words when she spoke, a nod accompanying them as though she had decided he was worthy of the information. It was not something he believed about himself but he relished her company. He was surprised at her answer and the emotion was plain on his face. Many? What was many? Perhaps to his companion, many meant three.

She echoed the question back to him and he could not look a gift horse in the mouth. He must continue the conversation he had started, in case it stopped. "One sister. Three brothers." Storm intoned dolefully, watching her still with doe-like brown eyes wide in his skinny face.
 
Next question with a more inquisitive tone: "Do they look like you?"

She wondered where his siblings were, whether they had anything to do with him becoming prisoner. Directly or indirectly. Her siblings were double his it seemed, her parents had quite a few children so that they might have a strong pack.

She inclined her head once more, "Yes. Most are larger than me though, my brothers in particular. Karija is more of a cream colored, lighter than the rest of us though we all have different shades and undertones. Ranec, he is the odd one out. He was the last born and he's nearly black in color."

She glanced over his rather odd features, not finding them unattractive but rather the opposite-intriguing. "Do all your siblings look like you?"

Finally she spoke at length, and Storm basked in the visions her words brought to his mind’s eye. It was nice to be able to imagine something other than his dreary surroundings. He could practically see her brother, his fur a dark smudged monotone, lingering in the shadows nearby. Storm’s lips finally twitched into the smallest smile as she asked about his own siblings.

With a voice slowly losing its creak as he began to use it, Cirrus described his family for her, and for the first time in a while he truly thought about them: “My brothers look simqq1₩)ilar to me, but one is fawn and one is nearer white. Thunder has the only pointy ears. My sister is more like… Grand-daddy. A dog. Real small, thin, pure white. Momma called her Angel, since she looks just like one. She’s really gentle and kind, even though we had a rough time of it growing up, looking so different.”

It appeared that she had won Cirrus’s trust over and, in doing so, had unlocked a portion of his personality which he mostly kept shut away in his confinement. The look of a whipped dog shed from his demeanour slightly, and his eyes and ears became more alert. He waited to see her reaction, realising for the first time that they had not actually spoken their names.

She studied his features, noticing once more just how strange they were. She was not one to be fixated on beauty, she had been told she was beautiful but she cared little for her looks. Beauty fades with time but a good heart lasts for quite a while longer than good looks. 

Some may find such a hybrid repulsive but she found that he looked exotic. He wasn't attractive to her as the other males of Drageda were, not by far, but he wasn't that ugly either. 

"You're not ugly. Just different," she responded thoughtfully. She could feel with different, many found her to be different.

Granted, she hadn’t called him handsome, but she had definitely admitted she did not hate his looks. Cirrus mentally took note of how disgusting his fur was, and wondered whether perhaps he should try and clean it. It was the first time he had cared about his hygiene in weeks.

 

Lorne was correct about a good heart being more important than beauty. It was the goodness of her soul shining through her eyes that captured him, and gave him more will to live than anyone other than Heda did.

 

“Thank you. I’m - ” he almost spoke his true name, but luckily the beginning syllable was the same, so it simply sounded like a stutter “S-Storm.”

 

A light thump of his tail began on the floor, wagging carefully as he began to clutch to her goodness and hope that she might be his salvation. “When my leg has healed, I need to help the pack to win my freedom. Can you think of what is most needed?” Cirrus peered at her out of his brown eyes, his mind focusing on her and shedding its perpetual state of confusion and fear in the light of her kindness.

To see him open up made her happy, she did not like seeing him cower from her as if she might hurt him. He stuttered over his name, leading her to wonder if it was truly his name. "Is that the name you were born with? Or a different name?" 

"I am Lorne. It means alone." The brief introduction was more than she gave others, the meaning behind her name often being concealed. She pondered his question silently, getting up to pace some as she considered the pack's strengths and weaknesses. 

"We have plenty of warriors, scouts, and hunters. Do not offer her that. We have few healers, or any who know the healing art at least. I believe Lucani and I are the only ones. Offer her something intellectual, healing or astronomy or poisons." It was unspoken that if he failed he may not leave Drageda alive. 

She glanced up at him solemnly, "If you fail...I will help you fight for your life if need be." It was risky, the pack was large and most wouldn't disobey Thuring if she ordered them to stand aside. But really, what else did Lorne have to lose? Death comes to all and if she had to die saving someone so be it.

As though his body was a glass door, she saw into his soul. Cirrus shuddered softly, wondering what would happen if Heda (or worse, Gyda) found out that he had hidden his true name. Lorne explained her own name, however. Cirrus could not withhold information from someone who was treating him like a real pack member. He peered about them to ensure no eavesdroppers, before admitting: “My momma gave me a different name at birth, but I’m called Storm now, because it’s easier for everyone to remember.” His voice was quiet, a whisper of admitted deceit. He did not explain when his name had been changed, so he could not be tripped up in his own lies if it came to light later. Happy with his limited admission, Cirrus did not realise he hadn’t given her his ‘real’ name.
 
She gave real thought to his question about the pack. Healing was something he wondered about happily – perhaps he could obtain knowledge from Lucani. He already knew quite a lot about basic herbs from her, and he knew he had used some of the pack’s supplies with his own wounds. Yes, that was good to offer. Gyda had been angry with him, but Heda had admitted she wished him to replenish the supplies he had used with Lucani as one of his conditions of escaping.
 
Lorne went on to offer him her assistance, should he ever need it. Cirrus’s ears fell flat against his head once more, but this time in gratitude. He didn’t know what to say, that someone would even think of risking their life to help him. Was he really worth it? Whether or not he was, he could not deny such an offer. It may come down to it at the end. “Thank you Lorne. If I can ever help you, please let me know.” His voice cracked slightly with emotion, and tears stung the edges of his eyes, as her offer tugged at his heart. “I don’t think Gyda will be pleased with even my best efforts.”
 
While her offer was wholeheartedly accepted, it occurred to Cirrus that he no longer knew whether he had anyone, or anywhere, to escape to.

Her ear twitched, swiveling around as she leaned over to listen to him as he whispered to Lorne the truth of his name. He did not offer his true identity nor did she ask it of him. "I will not tell a soul, they would not be happy to hear of your lie," she warned, it was unspoken that he must not tell anyone either.

Her spine straightened into a steel rod at his broken words. "You must try," she urged quietly, shaking her head slightly. "You can not just let them win. It all stands for nothing if you do: Lucani's aid, risking my life, you risking yours, your family's hope that they might see you again. It's all for naught if you just give up." Her words were hushed by the end, her hoarse voice cracking on the end. Her throat would hurt for her efforts at cheering him later, it was all well worth it.

Lorne moved closer hesitantly, licking a small wound on his shoulder comfortingly. It had never been a strong suit of hers, interaction, but she was no stone. Storm had struck something in her and she showed him a rare display of affection.

Cirrus blanched at her words – she clearly thought he should have told Heda his birth name. Perhaps, he decided, he would simply be called Storm from now on. He had come to think of himself as Storm – it was only rare occasions like this when he returned to his original personality, to being Cirrus.
 
Lorne went on to speak with an urgency that buoyed his spirits up high – here was someone who truly appeared to care about him. Cirrus’s ears slowly lifted and he gazed at her with reverence and hope. When she moved to touch him, to tend his wound, his skin shivered unwittingly as though she were made of electric. He had not received any touch from anyone besides Lucani, and hers had been brusque and only concentrated on his leg, to apply dressings.
 
Cirrus stretched out his neck, his tense muscles relaxing in her presence, basking in her attention. Whether it was short-lived or not, it was the first time he had felt safe enough to let his guard down. Gone was the shrivelled Omega, returned was the solid four year old adult with knowledge of the world. “I won’t give up. I promise.” And though he was not sure whether he would survive this, he would keep to his promise, and he would try. Cirrus twisted his head until it hovered close to hers, and with the sudden closeness he noticed the intricate colours of her hairs, twining to make a single mass of colour from a distance.
 
“You’re kind.” His compliment was spoken in hushed tones, for he didn’t want to disturb the peace he suddenly felt. It was not all that he was thinking, but it was all that he dared to utter out loud.

Her motions slowed as he twitched, hesitating in case he wished for her to stop. He did not, relaxing into her touch and so she continued. Lorne was shorter than the wiry male, leaving her head below his so he did not have to crane his neck to be closer to her. The russet colored woman cleaned his wounds, a variety of small scrapes and such. 

When they were clean, she moved back though she stayed close. The usually silent woman understood that he had not felt tranquility in quite awhile and so wished not to disturb him. "I try." Kind wasn't a word used for Lorne. Cold, distant, unfeeling perhaps. She didn't make a habit of getting close to people though she found it hard not to with Storm.

I think they are xD No Lorne, find someone better!!!!
 
Cirrus basked in her attention, feeling her silken tongue soothing the cracked half-scars and bringing to attention the sorry state of his fur. As with all good things, it came to an end. She moved away, but stayed on the brim of his personal space – something Storm certainly didn’t mind. Her words we perhaps a little self-depricating. On this occasion, she had succeeded in her attempts at being kind.
 
Cirrus gazed at her muzzle, eyes drinking in the soft fur there, unwilling to look her in the eye. She didn’t treat him like Omega, but he was mindful his guard may change, and he may be challenged for seeming too familiar. After all, who was he to presume any sort of connection with this pack that kept him prisoner?
 
“What do I do, if I can’t find my sister?” He trusted her enough to want her response desperately. His eyes sought out hers for the most fleeting of seconds.

Storm was finally able to look her in the eye, a gift she did not take lightly. Lorne bore no aggression for his act, keeping still so as not to scare him into thinking her hostile. 

Her ears dropped sadly at his inquiry. "I do not know the answer to your question. I suppose If you can not find your family you will have two options. Become obsessed with it and continue searching which may or may not lead you to them or find a new family." 

The words may have seemed cold were her tone not soft and compassionate, they may still be seen that way. Lorne liked to view herself as honest, sometimes brutally so, rather than chilly as the taunts of 'ice queen' from her childhood had suggested.