Wolf RPG

She had woken with a start in the Lair, her fur on end, skin prickling. The ghosts of her dreams haunted her, and she attempted to shake them off like flies in the deep summer, yet they remained. She clambered out of the cave and began to pace away, walking mindlessly up the gradual slope of the range's highest mountain. The sun was just beginning to set; the land was tinted blood-red. The color. . .

"I'm not here for your blood." The voice sounded suddenly in her head; she resisted a scream. She began to trot faster, racing past trees and rocks, her panting quite audible in the still autumn air. "You will be mine." "No!" she barked, pinning her ears back and snarling. She had broken into a dead run now, sprinting up the mountain, headless of any noise she was making. There was a buzzing in her ears, her vision growing blurry as memories of that day began to cloud her vision. She slid to a halt--she was too panicked to go on.

She felt the warm splatter of her mother's blood hit her side, a deep crimson against her silver pelt. He had slashed her throat; the regal gray woman expired with a choking, bubbling gasp, her emerald eyes--her daughter's emerald eyes--staring frantically before going completely glassy. A guttural roar, as her father came upon the scene. Big as a bear and black-furred, she had thought him invincible. Yet after a desperate scrabble, her uncle and his wolves overwhelmed the mighty alpha, cutting him down as if he were nothing. Nothing.

She remembered the grief that overcame her in that moment, leaving her breathless, the tears blinding her, quickly replaced by panic as she felt a male form rest hard against her back, his teeth on her nape. "NO!" The weight left with a reluctant sigh; her relief was short-lived. "She will be mine. Soon." They had left her there, covered in someone else's blood, curled next to her cold mother, wordless save for agonized sobs. Her handsome father lay a few feet away, his guts steaming on the snow. She left that night, furtively, her small form slipping off into the wilderness while her uncle still reveled in victory.

She had submerged herself in an icy river, the blood coming off her fur in red clouds beneath the surface. She had willed herself to die. Yet she had emerged from the water, eventually, shook herself off, and slept for a while. The next morning, she headed south.

Qamar remembered all of this because it had come back in her dreams, as horribly vivid as if it was happening all over again. She shuddered at all these memories, just as she watched the sun disappear, the moon rising to take its place. The stars winked in the sky; she could see Sirius, the star that had led her here. The Wolf Star, Noctura had called it. She could see everything, as high as she was--the forests, the plains, the boundless sea.

She was so high, and she felt so alone, as alone as she had that fated night. Alone, and invisible.

Up this high the sky was a shroud, but one that encompassed infinity. Noctura could see its impossible edges. He had followed his nose up here in search of food for the one he loved (Asterr would give it to her followers, and that was what he meant when he said it was "for" her), and pursued the desirable vermin even as its scent faded. Eventually it was completely gone, and Noctura gave up for now and looked instead to the sky, where he always looked. He was hungry, and while the starlight emphasised the ribs visible on his still-muscular form, it also satisfied him like feast.

But from up here, the sky itself was more impressive than the stars. The vast umbrella looked like it ended, but it didn't. He knew this as one who watched it. And slowly his silver eyes moved down, and saw shapes of grey mountains in the distance, and misty lakes and deep blue forests, and then his eyes went lower and saw Qamar. The green-eyed wolf was in fair health but broken: Noctura could see both of these things.

Sister, he greeted his packmate in his deep baritone, and slowed his heavy pace.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her morbid thoughts; she turned swiftly, eyes flashing as she sought the newcomer, only relaxing when she realized it was just Noctura. She lowered her head in respect to the higher-ranking wolf, nodding in greeting.

"Hello," she whispered, her voice still a bit choked in the panic and grief that had seized her moments before. "Are you here to look at the stars?"

Qamar pointed her silver nose at the brightest star in the southern sky, giving her packmate a sideways glance. "That's Sirius, right?" she asked curiously, one ear cocked for his response. "That's the star I followed here."

Hm, always, he replied when Qamar asked if he was here for skygazing. It was a fairly light-hearted answer, but true enough — more and more, the night's sky was Noctura's domain. But one he shared with all the creatures of the world, and that included his green-eyed packmate.

He regarded her now, gaze steady. She did not seem quite herself. But he followed her gaze up to the stars, and nodded. Yes, that's Sirius. But I think it's the bluest star that shines for you tonight, he remarked quietly. You seem down.

But I think it's the bluest star that shines for you tonight. No doubt, she mused sadly. With a small sigh, she prepared herself to respond, continuing to look up at the sky. "Yes. Well." The words of explanation became stuck in her throat, and she swallowed heavily, trying to force the rekindled emotion of the past hours down.

"I had a nightmare last night about my parents' deaths. I don't have those kind of dreams very often, but when I do. . ." She looked back down at Noctura again, her chest constricting painfully with a sudden sense of bereftment. "You know, someone once told me that deceased ones in dreams are trying to send you a message. But why. . .why would they choose to make me relive that night?"

A light summer breeze flitted through her pelt, kissing her face with something akin to a lover's warm touch. "That night. So unlike this night. Snow so thick you could hardly see anything. Yet I saw it all." A sob rose in her throat so that she had to fight to force out those last few words. They came out breathy and uncertain; all was barely a whisper on the wind.

Noctura thought briefly of Jolon, which he almost always did when emotions were high. For his friend the black wolf was a very emotional type, and Noctura had met no others like him — hence the association. But Qamar was very different from Jolon, and this incident very different to what he'd experienced thus far. So he listened, quiet and interested, and was told of a nightmare.

He wondered, as the poor girl began to break down under the relentless hammer of memory, if she had anyone. Anyone to hold her as she mourned, or soothe the nightmares. Noctura did not know how to be such a someone, but he would do his best to comfort her. I'm so sorry, Qamar, he murmured. Perhaps...

Noctura thought hard, and drew an analogy between Qamar's sorrow and those blue stars. Sometimes stars could be so bright they were blinding.

Perhaps, if you do believe your parents were trying to send you a message, they were forcing you to confront that night. Sometimes, when you look at the stars, they shine so bright you feel blinded, and after that you feel less of a desire to look at them. As I understand it, cruel events like what you went through must be confronted. You can't forget traumas like that — but you can move on from them. And I suspect the best way to do that is by looking straight into the light. Let yourself feel your loss, no need to fight.

Always the stargazer advised finding guidance in the stars. And sometimes, no matter who you were, it was a light that caught.