Wolf RPG

The late summer's crepuscular night began to shift into eventide, the dark canvas artistically painted with pastel hues. Twinkling stars faded into the dawn's rising light but sister moon's waning crescent glowed like a Cheshire grin, hanging low in the sky while the sun remained hidden by distant eastern peaks Tuwawi had left behind. Her mission had been successful. The Sveijarn matriarch had traveled quite a distance to scope out a new home for her ilk, and the glacial spires had been deemed more than worthy by the shrewd woman. However, it was not a land without risk. A lynx had managed to launch a surprise assault upon her and sting an auburn shoulder with its talons. If it were not for Kipling, she might have fared worse. Many fierce predators skulked among the dense woods; a thought Tuwawi could not shake. Certainly, the mountain terrain would be quite different compared to the rolling valley she had become accustomed to.

High altitudes gradually sloped into level plains, and the dank scene of the wetlands filled the air. It was a familiar scent to the ember, and it meant she was almost home. Perhaps a days worth of travel or less. She slowed to a stop, finding a moving pool to quench her thirst, to take a moment to enjoy the melodies of orchestral crickets and morning doves.

Salty water clogged his fur as Malachi slogged through the wetlands alone. Whatever light had shone as he’d entered the thicket had quickly vanished to the night. Now he trudged by moonlight alone, what little could filter through the canopy’s embrace. Spindly twigs pricked at his back and he stooped lower until he could feel the marshy waters tug at his fur, yet the discomfort of the wetlands only made him press on. He had no choice but to keep his mind on the present here, unless he sought to hang himself on a wayward vine or trip head first into the briny bath. He ducked beneath a low-lying branch, submerging himself in the mucky water before bobbing out the other side. For all their discomfort, the wetlands did the trick. The grief he had felt growing in his chest had since vanished to the bog’s murky depths. He sneezed and water spilled from his nose. The place could have smelled better, though.

As the trees began to lift their branches and water gave way to spongy ground, Malachi felt a stiffness in his legs from having crawled for so long. Runny mud fell from his fur in dancing rivulets and he gave himself a shake before stretching out his limbs one by one. The boy could still feel the weight of plant life clinging to his fur, but decided to attend to hygiene later. He wove his way around a cluster of trees, his nostrils still wrinkling with the marsh’s dank odor, and adjusted his eyes to the light of the dawn - how long had he been in there? The world came into focus and he blinked, froze, then staggered back as his eyes latched upon a crimson stain - a she-wolf - only paces away.

The cool drink from the well refreshed Tuwawi's dry palate, sating her thirst and bestowing new energy. The subtle bite of bitter vegetation made the beverage all the more delectable, but not nearly delicious as the free flowing brooks from her mountain's glacier. Misty air was dense with the marsh's brine, for deeper bogs rested towards the center, but the auburn woman did not care to explore this place more thoroughly. The wetlands, to Tuwawi, were not an inviting place. Dank, and usually smelly, they held little draw to the plains-born creature who preferred warmer, drier ground. Navigating, or hunting in, such a soggy place was not her forté or pleasure.

Tuwawi was about to move on, when suddenly, the distant chimes of rippling water caught her attention. Some creature was moving through the marsh. But what? Her ears orbited, curious to know if it was prey or a trespasser. Swiftcurrent hardly allowed any wolf to freely traverse the nearby territories such as Wapun Meadow or Duck Lake, though Otatso was often overlooked by their patrols. Either way, the Sveijarn was already growing indifferent as her attachment to the creek pack dwindled.

A sodden wolf emerged from behind the trees, soaked through with water and peppered with tangled vegetation. His true colors were masked by wetness as drenched hair clung tightly to his skin, the familiar odor of wet dog meeting Tuwawi's nose. "What're you supposed to be? Monster from the swamp?" she mused, having never seen a wolf purposefully cross the wetlands. Why was he journeying at this hour, anyway? "D'you get lost in there? It's almost sun up," she said while drawing nearer, interested in where he was going and why.

Malachi calmed himself after the initial shock of stumbling across the wandering woman wore off and waited for her to make the first approach, acutely aware he could be trespassing on her territory. He relaxed when she met him with a good-natured quip, yet the boy couldn't stop a faint frown from crossing his lips. Her words hadn't hurt him, but he now felt every leaf and vine with a growing awareness that made him itch to shake them off. Knowing that doing so would only transfer his burden to the clean-furred stranger, Malachi resigned to duck his head so he could paw off what plant life littered his face. After some trying he managed to hook a long tendril that wound around his ear and flick it to the ground just as the woman spoke again.

"Oh, I wasn't lost." He lifted his head, cheek fur now messy and still quite spotted with algae, and let his frown turn into a careful smile. In truth, he never really knew where he was these days, and while he didn't know which way to go while in the marsh, he'd never felt lost under its thick cover of leaves. He still had no explanation for having been in the swamp land at such a strange hour, but he wrote that off by assuring himself he'd merely slept longer than he'd thought when he had 'briefly' dozed off before entering the waters. Time was difficult to tell when one couldn't see the sky.

"And you - are you lost?" From her casual approach he concluded she did not live in these lands, or at least in this swamp, and her scent spoke nothing of the damp waters he had left behind. She instead carried the cool air of something more familiar to his nose - mountains and earth, not the mud of the marsh. He returned her inquiring look with a glance as curious as her own. After all, he wasn't the only one journeying at this strange hour.

Obscured by the dredged vegetation was a young man who promptly dismissed the wayward vines with a hasty swat. Tuwawi couldn't help but smile, lightheartedly amused by the youth's fervent brushing. He appeared young, perhaps a season or two older than the rugged Týr, with large, glassy baby blue eyes and a slight, but gaunt, figure. "Oh?" the ember hummed, surprised that this buck seemed to know where he was headed... or perhaps his travels held the sentiments of those who wander are not always lost.

"No, not me," she replied with an open expression, "I know this valley quite well. There's a pack to the South," she gestured with her head towards the creek, "called Swiftcurrent... I lived with them for many months." Tuwawi's tone became soft at the sudden realization that she had spoken in past tense. The sands in her hourglass were rapidly falling and soon, the Sveijarns would be saying their last goodbyes. "My name's Tuwawi. What's yours?" she asked in her distinctive low, crooning voice.

Malachi eased onto his haunches as the woman spoke, tilting his head as he listened. She gestured Southward and he followed with a turn of his head. Upon seeing the marshlands, Malachi felt a sudden relief he'd chosen to wade the river North. He didn't know how far South the river stretched, but couldn't help imagine what the wolves of Swiftcurrent would have done if they'd found a lone wolf drifting through the heart of their domain. A grimace twitched at his maw, but a shift in the woman's voice distracted his musing and Malachi turned her way, back in the present again. So this woman did live in these parts - at one time, at least. The woman gave no information besides that, but the change in her voice made Malachi wonder if her departure had not been made without regret.

The woman switched topics, and Malachi welcomed the diversion, at least for the moment. Tuwawi. He marvelled at the melodious ring, and Malachi wondered if she had taken her name from a different tongue. He dipped his head at Tuwawi, keen to fix his shameful first impression with a proper greeting. "My name is Malachi." He flicked his gaze at the woman and pulled out of his bow. Hesitating, he thought to share more, but bit his tongue and shifted the conversation her way instead. He tried her name in his head again to distract himself - Tuwawi of Swiftcurrent - before he spoke, finding his voice quiet and careful. "If you are no longer with Swiftcurrent, do you run alone?" She'd given him no reason to believe otherwise, but the woman's physique spoke a different answer. Aside from a thick scar that scored her face and multiple scrapes on her shoulder, she looked strong and robust, not at all like the loners he'd encountered on his wandering, and certainly not like himself. She couldn't have been packless for long if she truly ran alone.

The youth was a gracious soul and offered a polite exchange, nodding his head and all. Malachai was the name he delivered, though it was a title devoid of any story or explanation. Curiosity nagged Tuwawi's mind, growing more interested in the swamp-boy, but she held her tongue in favor of more formal conversation. He was keen, and picked up on the valley's politics, asking who exactly Tuwawi pledged herself to. She offered a small grin, smitten to explain her grand design.

"Its complicated," she started, "my mate ad family still reside by the creek, but we plan to move North, soon. That is where I am coming back from. I have been scouting it all week." Her muzzle swung to point towards the mountain, though its location was masked by many miles of forest. "There is a good parcel of land that way. A mountain with a glacier... it is perfect for us." He attention turned back to Malachi, and she wondered if he would deign to follow them. "And what of you? I can't smell anything other than mud and cat tails," she laughed, approaching where he sat. "You just passing through?"

If Tuwawi had any reservations about sharing her plans with outsiders, she certainly didn’t show it. Malachi found himself surprised at her willingness to divulge her recent history with him, but he accepted her words with keen ears. Her predicament sounded more curious than complicated. He lifted his eyes Northward, meeting nothing but forest, and wondered what had prompted Tuwawi to make such a drastic move. Prey appeared to run well in these parts, and he’d had no altercations with hostile wolves while travelling across the land. Perhaps the pack had faced internal problems, but surely no problem could be great enough to entail the move of an entire family from the pack's home base. His musing struck a longing within him for his own family in the North and an unwelcome memory of the circumstances that had prompted his own departure.

Tuwawi’s laugh broke Malachi from his thoughts and he returned her chuckle with a slow smile. He'd missed her prior remark and felt a slight burning in his cheeks when she padded closer, realizing she expected an answer to a question he hadn’t heard. To his relief she prompted him again. Malachi flicked his gaze skyward to observe the quickening dawn before turning his attention back on Tuwawi, careful now to keep his gaze sidelong. ”I’ve wandered for many months, and am bound to do so for many more. I hope to find a permanent home before winter comes, but until then I will continue to move.” He smiled, despite his desire to frown, and hoped to keep his expression steady. He took no pleasure in the calmness of his voice, but welcomed it nonetheless. ”It is difficult. The packs here are much different from the one I left behind.” He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head of the memories that flooded his mind before looking at Tuwawi again. "How big is your family, Tuwawi? Will the move be hard for you?"

At the beginning of her scouting mission Tuwawi had been cautious with her words, trying to reveal little to outsiders of their plan. However, in time she found it easier to be frank. The Sveijarns had little to hide and although it might have proven wiser to be prudent, Tuwawi saw no reason why she couldn't actively draw others in. Malachai seemed enticed, at least. The boy appeared to become lost in his thoughts... but it was of no consequence. Soon enough, he came back to the present.

Malachai told his plight. A wanderer. A vagrant. Simply dust on the wind. The memory of life alone still stung Tuwawi, and she hoped to never have to experience it again. For her, a home always seemed to be an easy thing to find. First there was Kindred. Then Tartok. Now Swiftcurrent and soon, Duskfire - or at least that is what she fancied to call their glacial land.

Tuwawi nodded solemnly, "yes... life alone is hard... there is no denying that," she agreed. "How are the packs here different?" Tuwawi asked, curious to know who had had met and why they were so unique. To the ember, the bones and structure all appeared the similar, though her experience in Teekon was limited to the creek, Tartok, and Neverwinter — two out of the three being defunct.

"The move will be difficult for us," she added. "My family includes my mate, Njal, and our four young children. It will take a few days of travel, and I am most concerned about the distance and obstacles the little ones need to cross." Tuwawi grew pensive, not knowing if Bazi would assign them an escort. How could two adults carry four pups? The toddlers would need to walk a long way which would make their group move slowly. "I met a few wolves on my travels North who have agreed to join us, but... there is always the risk that they will wander instead." Tyr was loyal enough, and so was Skull. But what of Ptarmigan? Would she return? And even then, how much trust could she place in these new pledges?

"Why don't you join us?" she invited. After all, Malachai was already near the creek. "Perhaps you would prefer to rest your feet a bit in the comfort of claimed lands? We could be family, you and I."

From the weight of her nod and confirming words, Malachi understood that Tuwawi had once lived a life not unlike his own. He felt a connection through this small history they shared, he and this Valley wolf, even if their commonality was as dreary as having been a vagrant wanderer. Malachi nodded thoughtfully at her question. Tuwawi had been generous in all her words, and Malachi felt compelled to speak the same. "I haven't had the chance to watch the packs of these parts yet, maybe they're different, but I felt tension between others everywhere I've travelled. In our Vale, we trusted the packs that lived around us like they were our kin. If one faced hardship, we would all help them stand. There... was a time that we fought, but that's only told to us through the histories. Our forefathers came to realize that we could be stronger together than on our own, and now our whole life revolves around that belief." Of course, they had had their disputes, but that was why they had formed the Council. Though life hadn't been easy in the Vale - abundant prey led to an increase in other predators the packs worked fervently to chase from their land - they had learned to live in trust with the wolves around them, a distant memory Malachi wondered if he would ever experience again.

Malachi grew silent and Tuwawi explained her predicament further. He noticed the subtle changes in the woman's features, her bout of silence and the uncertainty of her final words. Malachi felt his brow crease. He cast his gaze in the direction of the mountain she'd scouted, staring again into that vast, vast copse of trees that separated them from her new and distant home. With pups in the picture, the journey sounded more complicated now, and far more dangerous. The boy felt a burden fall on his shoulders at the thought of the family trekking such a great distance with four children to lead. Tuwawi had every right to be concerned with their safety, and Malachi felt that concern trickling into his own chest as she spoke.

'Why don't you join us?' The boy blinked and Tuwawi continued, 'Perhaps you would prefer to rest your feet a bit in the comfort of claimed lands? We could be family, you and I.' Malachi let a silence settle between them as he processed her invitation, though he'd decided his answer even before she had asked. He could never live with the guilt of turning his back on this family in their time of need. "I would be honoured to ease your burden, both you and your family's. It will be good to be useful again." He gave Tuwawi a gentle smile and let her final words somersault through his mind. 'We could be family, you and I.' Family. He did not know how long he would stay, but he liked Tuwawi, and he felt his chest tighten at her words. "Will you howl for me when you leave?"

The valley wolf did not expect Malachai's birth clan to value peace and unity in such high regard. Never had Tuwawi been apart of a pack who didn't have at least one enemy... and juxtaposed to such a serene existence left the bitter taste of shame lingering in her mouth. Treachery, paranoia, and manipulation were commonplace. Alphas taught their subordinates combat skills for war. Borders were enforced and competition reigned supreme. To them, it was a dog eat dog world with no place for cooperation. Pride overruled compassion and disdain fueled rivalries. Only Kindred had been the kinder sort, led by the wise Sterntooth, but even he, when pressured by Nanuq, joined the Shearwater alpha's war efforts to evict Tartok.

Tuwawi nodded as she listened to her new acquaintance. Even he, seasons younger, had wisdom to share. She had a lot of information to absorb - from Tyr and Skull, as well - but the to-be leader welcomed it with an insatiable hunger for knowledge. "Ah, yes... I see what you mean," she said, "I have only met a few who thought there was room in these wilds for such harmony." Did Tuwawi believe it? After the life and travels she had endured? No - she was a bit too cynical for that. However, there was always time to repair one's outlook on the world. She would have time to ruminate over Malachair's tales while they traveled North.

She had not meant to burden or guilt the youth with her story, but he seemed willing to be apart of the great migration. Tuwawi smiled at the word honor. What a proud youngblood Malachai proved to be. "That is good to hear," she replied, "I look forward to your presence." The vermilion she-wolf stepped forward and pressed her snout against Malachai's dank cheek. "I will," she told him, "stay close to the wetlands. We will pass by and I will call for you." Her umber tail swung from side to side with genuine excitement. Hopefully, Tyr would also meet them half way. "For now, I must return to my family," Tuwawi said as she turned to leave, "but we will see one another soon." Silver eyes caught the sun's rays before the Sveijarn picked up into a swift trot Southbound towards the creek.

Malachi accepted Tuwawi's affectionate nudge with a glow in his eyes and tucked away every piece of her instructions, unwilling to miss a single word. He couldn't keep his tail still any longer: as hers swung wildly, his struck the dust with a speed to match. He gave no thought to the dirt that billowed to mud against his still damp fur and instead let his mind focus on Tuwawi's promise. "And I will be ready, Tuwawi of Swiftcurrent." he promised in return, and soon Tuwawi moved away from him toward her family and the life she would soon leave behind. Malachi watched until her fur merged with the hues of dawn. Then he blinked, and she was gone.

The wanderer had intended to travel back over the Southern mountains after his swim in the swamp, back to the tiny Vale nestled between the four looming walls and then beyond, as far away as he could possibly move before winter set into the land. He had never intended to travel North again, but his pain had led him here to the wetlands and for once he saw a tiny seed of beauty in the sorrows he held. Malachi settled down and let the dawning rays of sun melt the water from his fur. Despite the hope that now filled him, Tuwawi's confirmation of a life with little peace still weighed his heart with a pressure he couldn't shake. They had warned him back home about the unforgiving life outside the Vale, and for the most part they had been right. But as he closed his eyes to let sleep still his mind, he imagined Tuwawi and her mate and her pups, and the pack that stood by the family despite whatever had caused them to leave, and Malachi couldn't help but see love.