Wolf RPG

The barren Heartwood beckoned the young and the curious. Its sooty soil and blackened trees were unpleasantly attractive to those who had never witnessed the damage of fire, and the foreign scent of decayed woodsmoke did little to deter such an ignorant tenderfoot like Rickon. He moved through the burned down forest with the intent of discovering everything about it— but as he continued deeper into the ruins, he soon concluded that there was nothing really to discover here. Whatever had happened here, had stripped the entire area of life. Bits of green had sprung up here and there, but there would be many more years of sterility before it would sustain anything again.

Rickon did, however, come across the laid out and charred skeleton of a mountain lion. He circled the bones, sniffing, nibbling, and otherwise trying to discern what the bones had been before meeting an unfortunate demise.

Fire was a foreign concept to October, but she had heard stories of the tremendous disaster it could leave in its wake. Her mother, Orleans, had told her of a time when a mountain in her homeland had spewed rock and fire into the sky, engulfing the valley and all those who were not quick enough to escape. Fire consumed and destroyed everything it touched, Orleans had said. When October came the charred woodlands, she remembered her mother’s words.
 
The deeper she wandered into the wood, the more darkened and desolate everything became. She regarded the scorched trees with wary apprehension, ears twisted back against her skull as she trudged on. Frightening images of the sort of fiery hell it would have taken to consume such a vast forest filled the young female’s mind, and she quickened her step in hopes of exiting the woodland sooner.
 
The discovery of another wolf captured her interest, however, as she’d assumed she’d been the only one foolish enough to venture into the singed remains of what had once been a great forest. He was dark like the soot that blanketed the trees and earth, and he stood above the charcoaled remains of another creature. “You must be the dragon whose fiery breath burnt down these woods!” she lilted towards him, grinning as her ears tipped forward to catch his response.

Rickon couldn't smell much in this place, but his ears began to twitch as they picked up on the quick footfalls of company approaching. He couldn't drag himself away from the investigation long enough to look, however, and he was being addressed before he even realized someone had come upon him. He looked up sharply, angling his head towards what he thought at first was an apparition. Against the charred horizon, the soft and blanched creature appeared as something otherworldly, causing him to wonder briefly if this was the ghost of the poor animal at his feet.

Eventually, after gaping he began to acknowledge that she was something corporeal, rather than a specter, and by this time, a long pause had come after her chipper attention to him. "N-no!" he blanched, remembering that he was supposed to respond. "I mean, uh, *ahem* no, no I didn't do this," Rickon cleared his throat, and dropped an octave from his originally prepubescent tone, trying to maintain some semblance of maturity under the tangerine gaze of a pretty face. While she beamed as the sun, Rickon felt more like an awkward little storm cloud passing across her clear skies. He looked a little bewildered even, but maybe that was because she'd used a word he didn't recognize.

"What... what's a dragon?"

His inky fur helped him blend in well with the charred woodland. October noticed the subtle earthen hues that accented his pelt, but he was otherwise as dark as his surroundings. She, on the other hand, stood out like a fluorescent light. He seemed perplexed by her presence and she felt a pang of guilt at the realization that she might have startled the poor fellow.
 
Her grin curved the length of her maw in response to his bewilderment. In all honesty, it was sort of adorable how flustered he appeared to be. “A dragon is a giant, flying fire-breathing lizard,” she informed the wolf, as if the mythical creature she spoke of were the most natural thing in the world.
 
Her tail swayed gently behind her as she moved to close the distance between them. She swept her gaze ‘round the perimeter, amazed yet rather unsettled by the destruction and utter dearth of life.

Giant. Flying. Fire-breathing. Lizard.

Rickon had to take these words one at a time. His eyes slowly widened as the puzzle became picture, and he was left dumbstruck by the imagery provided. He suddenly took a sharp look around, as if he thought one might be obscurely lurking near; as if he thought he could somehow miss a thing like that. More than anything else there was emptiness. Second to that there was devastation. He realized, after an ache had erupted in his temples, that his eyes were slightly bulged from sheer astonishment, which probably made him look as inept as felt. Rickon swallowed the dry lump in his throat, and forced his expression to relax somewhat before facing the myth-weaver again. "Fire does this?" he asked her, the oracle apparent, come to alleviate him of his woeful ignorance— and he would ask as many questions as she allowed.

The dazed expression that settled on his features led October to believe that perhaps he’d taken her words to heart. Delighted that her myth had had such an effect, she grinned. When he questioned whether fire was capable of ravaging even as mighty a forest as the one they stood within, her features softened and she gave a solemn dip of her muzzle. “Yes,” she replied, her pumpkin gaze flickering from his to rove the charred terrain.
 
“Long ago, my parents lived in a valley that was ravaged so badly by fire and flaming rock that everyone had to flee. Many weren’t able to escape. My mother told me that a mountain exploded, and that’s how it started.” October paused for a beat to glance down at the remains of whichever unfortunate creature shared the same unfortunate fate as those her mother had known. “I’ve never seen fire, but this forest looks a lot like what my mother said her old home looked like when she left. This is the first time I’ve seen what it’s capable of.” Her eyes studied the sooty woodland as she wondered whether or not life would ever return to normal there.

The skeletal relic of the fire was all but forgotten by the enraptured boy in his attention to the diviner's stories. In fact, most things for him had become a distant afterthought now facing the thought of a vast array of now-possible impossibilities. Rickon had his own Trench-legends, but most of those tales involved mystical, glowing creatures, coming down to rescue the wolves from their self-imposed ruins. They did not dream of things that were destruction incarnate. A strange difference between the lives of the secure and the lives of the strained. 

Flaming rocks. Exploding mountains. It was all so terrifyingly fascinating! "And a dragon?" he began to ask.

Rickon had drawn closer to her— magnetized by her existence— and the dark wolf inhaled deeply, through his nose, and his mouth, wanting to know as much of her as he could in that moment. He had come close enough to touch now, and his voice lowered politely to accommodate his almost sudden closeness. "Have you seen one before?" But even in the quiet his excitement did not dissipate.

She grinned impishly. “Probably,” she said. Although her mother had explained to her in great detail what had occurred within the Salvajes, October had a difficult time wrapping her head around the whole ordeal. It had sounded to her like a scene out of a nightmare; she wouldn’t have doubted if a dragon or two had been present during the volcanic eruption.
 
So distracted was she by the male’s fascination with her words that she scarcely noticed that he’d drawn near enough to smother her if he’d liked. “I haven’t seen one, and I’m glad,” admitted the pale woman with sigh. “They sound terrifying! Could you imagine walking along, minding your own business and looking up to see a massive, scaly monster-thing flying overhead?” She shuddered. “No, thank you.”

Bristled and pendulous, his tail swung back and forth as an unconscious reminder of his contained delight. Rickon would be content forever to listen to the sprite's sagas, but he could smell on her the cadence of a pack, meaning she had a home to return to and limited time to share with the rangy vagabond. "Well sure, they sound scary, but I bet I could take one on if I had to!" He admitted with a confidence he'd obviously been lacking before, forgetting his uncertainty for the time being. "I mean, I'd probably wind up like this fella, here," the boy chuckled, motioning over his shoulder at the lion's remains, "but hey— at least you'll be able to tell some pretty rockin' stories about me afterwards, right?"

His burst of self-assurance elicited a cheeky smile from the young woman. Although he’d seemed angst-ridden about fires and dragons beforehand, he spoke with renewed confidence about battling one of the fierce creatures. “Even if you ended up like this crispy fellow – " she started, peering at the lion’s unfortunate-looking remains, “ – I’d make sure you still went down in history as a fierce trooper.”
 
Her gaze alighted upon his dark features, meeting his blithely while her tail swung in a jovial wave. “Do you have a name, dragon-warrior? Or do you prefer to be called that instead?”

"Oh I'm pretty positive I'd wind up nothin' but a bag-a-bones," Rickon chuckled, all of his teeth flashing in princely charm. "But I'm glad I'll get to live on through legend." It was an interesting prospect— to have stories told of one's very existence— but in remembering that he would have to die for this to occur, the bastard boy figured he could wait a while for his epics to begin circulating through the generations. At least until he'd had some real adventure.

"I'll be the Dragon-warrior when you're tellin' the world 'bout me. But when it's just you and me, you can call me Rickon," he beamed, bottlebrush tail swaying. "What can I call you? I mean, b'sides The Mystery Master Mentor— or Triple M, as the average joe's might say."

He was perhaps the liveliest, interesting fellow she’d encountered since settling in the Teekon Wilds. There was something charming about his grin, his speech mannerisms, and the way his olive eyes gleamed when he spoke of becoming a legend someday. “Hopefully I won’t need to start telling your story for a long, long time,” she quipped. She hadn’t seen any dragons in the vicinity yet, so she hoped her newfound friend wouldn’t be battling one any time soon.
 
Snowy ears cupped toward him as he introduced himself. “Rickon, Dragon-warrior extraordinaire,” she chortled. “Mystery Master Mentor is a mouthful. I usually go by October.” She’d never considered herself much of a storyteller, but she would have admitted to thoroughly enjoying the experience with Rickon. “What brought you out here? Did you come to visit your friend?” She nudged one of the lion’s dusty bones with her paw.

"I'll see what I can do," he vowed to her hopes that his story wouldn't need to be told for a long time to come. He couldn't promise to stay alive, for after all, he had recently dedicated his young life to being ostensibly about acts of bravery. But if staying alive meant also sharing some of that time with the magical storyteller before him, then he would gladly try to. Her name, October, was tucked away in his thoughts as if ferreting away some secret he'd never share with anyone. He smiled at her, tipping his head towards the skeleton as she indicated to it.

"Oh, yeah— I sure did! Me an' ol' Bonesy here, go way back," he quipped, bushy tail in a practical flail now, as he moved to loom over the prone, long-deceased animal. "Wha' was that Bonesy?" he asked, leaning in close to the lion's skull. "Mhm, go on, go on... Oh! You said 'she prettier than a canyon wallflower' huh?" He looked up at her from his crouch. "He says he thinks you're mighty fine, miss October, and that I better try an' be your friend before ya realize I'm just a huge dorkazoid."

Standing, Rickon peeled his lips at her in a sheepish grin. "Maybe I'm too late?"

If wolves could blush, October’s face would have flushed red at Rickon’s words. She laughed easily as he conversed with his “friend,” orange eyes twinkling with delight as they met Rickon’s pale olive gaze. “Well, Bonsey, I’ll have you know that I don’t believe in ‘too late,’” she said, tail waving behind her as an impish smirk danced the length of her lips. “I’ve met my fair share of dorkazoids in my life, but our friend Rickon here is not one of them.”

Rickon's first adult attempt at flirting was going unexpectedly well! He was feeling quite full of himself in that moment, bolstered especially by her assurance that he was not yet a dorkazoid. "See, Bonesy! She don't think I'm lame," he drawled, lifting one of his large forepaws and slapping it down on the skeleton-lion's head. The impact, while not particularly forceful, caved in the crown of the blackened skull and enveloped his foot briefly. "Shit!" he barked, snatching back his arm as a swarm of winged beetles, centipedes, and worms began erupting from the charred remains. He wasn't terrified, but the surprise of the situation put every hair of his body on end and on reflex he had moved to put his body between October and the insects flying out— instinctively shielding her.

Hysterical laughter spluttered forth from her mouth in response to Rickon’s reaction, eyes squinting as one of the insects brushed against the side of her face. “Let’s go!” she barked, noting that her companion had shifted closer as if he were guarding her from the swarm.
 
Although she wasn’t made anxious or scared of the insects, she seized the opportunity for play; she nipped at one of his sooty ears before zipping off ahead of him, tail thrashing while she yipped with wild abandon into the otherwise quiet air.

Her laughter offset his immediate alarm, and Rickon readily turned to her with a clear surprise across his melanistic face, green eyes wide. Despite her angelic face, she wasn't fazed by things that surely his own little sister would've detested. Princess Pith had hated every fly, lizard, and bug that dared come her way, and without knowing it, he had expected much of the same from his present company. It did not take long for his shock to melt into delight, and he was quickly bounding after her, laughing.

Without meaning to, his instincts got wrapped up in chasing her instead of running with her. His wanted to catch his proverbial white rabbit, and so he nipped playfully at her left hip, whining and barking, urging her to move faster.

The yearling’s heart pounded in her chest and echoed within her ears as she ran. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her instincts propelling her legs to carry her faster away from the male who pursued her. She sensed his presence behind him like a looming shadow; she was quick, but apparently so was he.
 
She felt his teeth graze the hairs of her hip and the sensation elicited a yelp from the female. Still, she grinned impishly and urged her paws to move faster against the smoky earth. A thick tree trunk lay in her path and as October leapt in hopes of passing over it with ease, her hind feet dragged against the charcoaled bark and sent her tumbling out of control.
 
She rolled onto the dusty, singed ground, laughing so fiercely that tears began to prick at her eyes. Her snowy pelt was covered in soot as she scrambled to regain her footing, although Rickon had ample opportunity to catch her by then.

It was the length of his legs more than anything else that made him fast; a runner's build obtained from scaling canyon walls and hunting along the thinnest pathways known to man. She was quicker than him still— a dashing hare with such swift sure-footedness, he wasn't sure he'd be able o close the small gap that had formed between them in the game. He laughed, then gritted his teeth in an attempt to focus more energy and power into his feet. Though as it turned out he wouldn't need it. October moved at racing speeds with the grace of a dancer, but she was apparently not infallible.

Just as he surged forward, his quarry took a mighty tumble, shrieking with laughter as Rickon threw his body down in front of her on reflex. The momentum sent them both crashing, October winding up on top of the two-wolf dogpile, though looking worse for wear. Her white fur hadn't done as well as his dark coat had in the soot and grime— and when he looked up at her, bewildered and checking minutely for injury, he couldn't suppress the laugh that came suddenly from him at seeing her comically smudged face.

The duo tumbled together atop the grimy ground, their laughter echoing through the lifeless woodland. Despite the fact that she was significantly smaller than Rickon, October feared she might hurt him if she rested atop him for too long. Rolling sideways off of her newfound companion, she sprawled onto her back and canted her head to get a good look at the male. After a beat of silence, she grinned. “You’re a mess,” she teased, knowing she was likely much worse-for-wear than he at that moment.

She rolled away, turning to look at him so peacefully he irrationally thought something was wrong. When October smiled, his tail swept the ashen ground heartily, and he chuckled lightly as what she said. "You're one to talk," he boasted, extending one long forearm and smudging his surely filthy paw across her forehead. "C'mon," the trench wolf laughed, rolling away from any retaliation and hopping to his feet. "Let's get this stuff off before we turn into ol' Bonesy," he said, before leading her on a thrilling chase to the nearest water source.