Wolf RPG

Twisted oak trees extended their wood-armored claws toward him. The last of the morning fog had faded, leaving the gnarled bark of the woodland behind. The sounds of the birds were further, as though they did not dare to fly into the forest’s darkness. High in the boughs of the oak trees was an agile squirrel. It raced along the length of a branch and leapt to another.

Henry lifted his eyes to watch it. It was only a moment and the squirrel had vanished from his view. The yearling ranger snorted something like a chuckle.

Roughly a thousand paces to the northeast was where the oak trees faded and shifted into willow trees. Their leaves and touch were softer. The young Blackthorn was headed toward them without knowing, without care. The land was new to his feet and he was eager to tread it.

Amalia twined and tilted through the trees. Branches reaching gnarled hands to the sky. Searching. Feeling. Wanting. Needing. That was how it felt. She couldn't quite explain. There was an oppressive silence to the trees and area. Broken only in minute moments with the chattering of creatures, but the sounds soon tapered off, as if a child hushed by overbearing mother.

Willow trees were her end goal. She loved them. Reminded her of home. Of Mother. Beneath their arms she felt safe. She twisted her way through the tendrils of branches. Allowing them to caress and slide along her head and back.

For a moment she stood stock still. Her eyes closed. Even breathing. In and out. The silence thickening. The world moving.

The first of the willow boughs reached down to brush at the young Blackthorn’s back. His pace was slowed, enjoying the time that he spent in the wood. It did little to remind the ranger of his home. It was still a pleasant place, something new.

Henry stepped beneath hanging willow branches to find a still shadow near the base of another tree, just ahead of where he stood. The ranger searched, sniffing softly at the breeze for signs of others who had joined him in the forest. The yearling’s senses returned with little more than the dark figure ahead. He thought her to be another passerby – just another soul who wandered through the world.

Hey there, Henry wuffed in a friendly tone. His long white legs pushed forward until he had closed some of the distance between them. The young Blackthorn hoped to be polite, so he kept some space for comfort. Thought I was the only one around here. The yearling offered a sheepish chuckle and one wag of his tail.

Amalia opened jade eyes to meet the gaze of the wolf who spoke. Draped in black, but looked as if he walked in snow. Lanky limbs. Youthful face framed seawater eyes.

She shifted and turned, gentle tendrils of willow branches brushed her. She wagged her tail and offered a kind smile.


Hello. I'm Amalia. She didn't offer her surname. It seemed almost to on the nose. I thought I was alone as well.

The she-wolf in shadowed fur was quick to return a greeting and to offer her name.

Amalia, Henry repeated with a cheery smile, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Henry!

That was good, or he believed that it felt good. Meeting new wolves had always been something of a trial for the yearling. He had no issues with friendliness, for his father had been the nicest man he had ever known in his short life. No, Henry had found that it was the unpredictability of strangers that made him feel uneasy. Amalia did not appear to be of the violent type, however. He had a good feeling in his stomach.

It’s probably because it’s pretty spooky back there, he offered with a chuckle, then motioned to the gnarled wood that darkened beyond the willows.

Amalia moved a little closer, but only so she wasn't yelling across the expanse. Green gazed taking in everything around her, and alighting on the wolf in front of her. Gentle crinkles at the sides.

Hello Henry. She spoke with a kind smile, and a wag of her tail.

Amalia had not felt any wariness of strangers until coming here and meeting a couple wolves that made her uneasy, but she had managed through it unscathed. And she had found a good pack, a good found family.

Amalia turned and studied the darkness beyond. It is, but there is also a familar ness in frightening things. A sense of peace if you think on it. When you are fearful, memories of loved one who helped you out of fear before surface.

The inky Amalia had some wisdom to share on the topic of frightful things. Henry listened to her closely, tail waving behind him, while she shed light on his observation of the gnarled woodland beyond the willows where they stood. She spoke of memories that would help through difficult or fearful moments. The Blackthorn was enthralled, even bordering on smitten. He’d never met a lady who fancied the darkness in the world.

Wow… I’ve never really thought about it like that, he confessed to her sheepishly. When I was a young boy, I used to tell my father about the hanging branches in the darkest part of the forest. He would tell me stories of things that might live in there. I swear whenever I’d visit those branches, I’d see the monsters he told stories about. Those memories were fond ones now. It had been a long time since Henry had been frightened of the deep dark wood.

Amalia didn't mean to say she didn't get frightened or that the cold bite of terror didn't every so often sound off inside her skull. No what she meant was that sometimes when you were really scared. Memories helped you get through it.

Amalia was the picture of avid listener. Her ears forward, eyes on his face, though politely so. I can understand being scared of those. It's frightening to a little one. Willow's at the very least remind me of home, so i like them.


She gently weaved her tail and thought about his words. Were your family story tellers?