Wolf RPG

Dawnfall found Anselm atop a craggy spire. From his vantage the world spilled out below, the shoulders of fellow ridges edging away into plains draped in morning fog. 

His breath spilled out around him. Somewhere in these misty foothills he hoped to see a landmark - a telltale monolith or old tree that could lead him home.

It was with a trepidation and unease that Reyson traveled from Mereo. He would be leaving in a few days for Akashingo. He had not had a chance to speak with Meadow, and he found it hurt alittle. He wanted to say goodbye to her, but he was unsure how. No matter what he did, she was going to worry. It was the way she was. She would worry after his health, his mental stability the other wolves there and what he maybe doing. And though it was unfair of her to hold him to the truths that sh eknew of men she had loved, he could understand why too. And that was the quandary.

He was thrown from his thoughts by the youngling moving through the underbrush. He moved closer, a sense of unease skittering along his spine. He was old enough to be on his own, if he had to guess, but he probably shouldn't be. Though he had been. The voice whispered in his ear. Should he just let the youth go on his way?

He chuffed to get the other's attention and then stood at attention, ears forward, blue eyes assessing.

Here came a landmark, not in the form of stone but flesh. Anselm sucked back to be seen so nakedly. Everything about this man seemed imposing, from the latticework of scars along his shoulders to the pocked flesh beneath his icewater gaze.

Anselm had spent time enough alone to be wary of strangers. He measured this man, and inevitably his egress. The chuff that broke between them may well be friendly, but Anselm did not yet soften his tense muscles. He chuffed in return, eyes and tail low but attention fixated on the male should he make a move to pin him.

Reyson stood tall and stalwart as he always did. He did not make himself smaller, though a part of him growled low to himself that he should have. The youth was clearly not used to someone as large as he. And he sometimes forgot his scars, especially the new ones, made him look like frankenstein's monster.

What are you doing here? You are not of Mereo. Are you of Paleo or Epoch? Are you lost?

Reyson didn't know this youngling. He didn't even know the color of his coat, he could not think of any wolves in his minds eye that matched this one, except maybe lady fennec, but she was more white than grey. Who was he? And where was he going and could Reyson even help?

Within Anselm two factions warred: the first warned him this man was egregiously dangerous -- look at those scars, his physique, the gruff roll of his deep voice! But the second faction spoke plainly: if he wanted to kill you, he would have already --  he can help you.

Anselm lacked the years of experience to disguise the hopeful prick of his ears as he heard the stranger speak of Paleo. "I'm from Paleo.. just.. kind of got lost."

Blue eyes traced over the youth. Looking for any indication that he maybe hurt or anything. He saw nothing. Now it was simply a waiting game between the two, waiting for one or the other to speak. The child finally opened his mouth and spoke.

He eyed him. You are one of the children of Mahler and Wylla? I can help you home, but first. Are you hungry?

Reyson looked around. There wasn't much here, but he could muster up some voles or rabbits he imagined, or more so hoped.

Well, that was it. Any hopes Anselm had of remaining aloof disintegrated the moment Reyson spoke his mother’s name. If this man was an abductor, there would be no hope for Anselm — for he immediately put down his guard. 

Even his tail gave a tentative wag. Yes. He meant in response to being Wylla and Mahler’s child, but it applied to being hungry too. Yes to both, I mean. A sliver of excitement wormed its way into his voice. What is your name, sir?

The child was immediately looser and for it, Reyson was grateful. He hadn't wanted to force the boy back or scare him even further. This way it worked out.

Reyson nodded. Alright let's get you something to eat and then I'll escort you home.

Reyson gave a soft mmm. My name is Reyson Ebonywood.

He turned away for a moment and in a few quick strides he had the nearby rocks upturned and a few voles ran. Luckily he was large enough, one good stomp with large footpaw and they were dead. He had a brace of three and carried them towards the youth and lay them down.

Anselm’s tail wagged loosely as Reyson once more mentioned food. I’m Anselm. The boy replied, gaze hopeful as he watched the large male turn away. 

He was not prepared for how quickly a man of Reyson’s stature could move. Anselm watched dumbfounded as Reyson turned upon a patch of rocks, upending the lives of several scattering voles with a single stomp. Each vole was picked up between Reyson’s teeth and deposited expertly in the ground close to where Anselm stood. 

Waow!! Anselm breathed, amazed by how Reyson had known where to look, how to act, and ultimately where to stomp. How did you do that?!

Reyson listened to the boys name. It seemed foreign, though it made sense seeing that his father was who he was. The youngling's tail wagged and Reyson couldn't quite stop the small smile.

Years of practice were how he could move so easily and so well. He hoped to share that with someone someday. Show someone how to be like him, but better and perhaps a bit more personable.

Reyson's lips twitched in amusement. Practice. Small creatures like that often make homes around rocks and small tunnelways, through tree roots. They are always a quick meal in a pinch. YOu just have to learn to sniff them out is all. Once they are routed, Just a stomp or two when you're big like me. Eat up. Anselm.

Upon seeing the small smile Reyson carried, Anselm's face split into a toothsome grin. He couldn't help it: first this stranger knew his parents, then he offered food, and now he was bringing him home! If the boy was a less phlegmatic creature, he'd tapdance from excitement.

The knowledge Reyson willingly shared with him about animals under rocks and knowing to stomp them was temporarily forgotten -- but Anselm would recall what Reyson said about tree roots at a later date.

Anselm did not need second urging. Greedily, he ate the first -- and then, looking at Reyson curiously (did he want the other two? did he not?) Anselm went for the second. He stayed his hand at the third, licking his lips gratefully after two voles had seamlessly gone down the hatch. He hadn't even tasted them!

This boy was sweet. Reyson liked the smile he offered, happy and innocent. He hoped the boy could always stay this way.

There was no thought in the sharing of knowledge. It was just done. he hoped the boy would at least take some of it to heart.

Reyson motioned. GO ahead and eat the third. I already ate.

God only knows how long the boys was out here and when he last ate. Reyson could go without eating and he wasn't quite hungry, nor would the vole even do anything for a beast such as he.

You want to help me find your trail or your family's trail?

At Reyson’s urging Anselm pounced upon the remaining vole. His teeth crunched spine as he swallowed with hearty gusto. 

Three voles was better than nothing, and with Anselm’s slight frame that meal would go a long way. His tail bobbed as he considered Reyson’s question. Tilting his head back, Anselm sampled the wind and its unknown scents. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know where exactly he had gone off the trail. The winding range of forest beneath them all looked unfamiliar. I’d like to go back home, please. He looked to Reyson trustingly, thankful he had found someone to guide him back to his parent’s waiting embrace.

A soft chuckle stirred the air as Reyson watched the youth pounce upon the vole. He had the makings of a hunter, just need a few rounded edges buffed out was all.

Reyson nodded and motioned for the boy to step beside him, as he put his nose to the ground. So here your scent gets a little lighter. So that was the way you came, where you were. So we need to head back that way.::

Reyson motioned for the youth to follow him. He knew where Paleo was, had been there a time or two. But he felt he could help teach the boy too, so that if this ever happened again, he could find his way home.

Anselm obediently tended to Reyson's side, his soft eyes following the male as he motioned to the ground. Here, he nosed the area -- catching whiffs of his own scent amidst the perfume of frozen earth and cold-stressed blades of grass. He noted that just as Reyson said, his scent grew almost imperceptibly fainter here.

He hoped that someday he could command such knowledge freely. For now, he was simply a tumbleweed -- he blew this way and that, unthinking of how he might get home. He was incredibly fortunate to have come across Reyson.

Reyson signaled wordlessly for Anselm to follow. In an upbeat trot, Anselm tallied behind with his nose to the ground and tail wagging. Something about this man reminded him of his own father -- perhaps the gentle way in which he imparted his vast and hard-earned life lessons.

Blue eyes watched and assessed as the youth sniffed and looked about where he had motioned. It was heartening to watch the child learn.

They would travel a ways until they made it to the boys borders. It would then be up to Anselm to howl for his family. he needed to own up to what he had done, or at least let them know he was alright. Reyson didn't have the fatherly ways that many did, though he was learning he could learn how to be a good one. But even he could imagine the boys father and mother were probably worried.

Anselm felt a flare of pride sting his heart as he looked up and saw in the glacier blue of Reyson’s gaze approval. He’d did it! He was still a terrible hunter and tracker, but by golly, he did it. 

There was a certain pep in his step as he followed along. Ironically, he had not been that far from Paleo after all. Some gentle guidance from Reyson and before Anselm knew it, he was staring at the familiar copse that bordered his home. 

Turning to Reyson sheepishly, Anselm fumbled with a clumsy curtsy. Thank you for helping me, sir.

Reyson felt a surge of pride for the boy as well. Good on him He had done it. There was a strange tightness in his chest Could this have been what it was like with Amity. Could he have taught her like this, had he not been so damned conditioned to be a soldier and nothing else?

Reyson dipped his head with a smile. Of course. I'm glad we got you home.

he would watch the youth return to his family and then he'd be away again. Back to what he had been doing. And back to Mereo.

Anselm was lucky today. Many wolves weren’t so fortunate. 

He had found a kind stranger and with his guidance, returned to home. His heart soared to think of seeing his mother again, his siblings — his father. 

With a final wave of his tail Anselm trotted deep into the heartland, a buoyancy to his steps all there because of a good soldier named Reyson.