Fury was gone, and Artok was conflicted about it. He had known what she had done was for a reason, but it rankled. She was one of the best leaders he'd ever had, and now she was gone. He absolutely blamed the red furred wolf. Perhaps Fury had done something in her past, but it wasn't her this time. Albeit her daughter, but still. It was an accident. Accidents happened. Perhaps not that macabre.
Artok knew all spirits would be low, but he also knew they needed to eat. So with stiff joints and a tired body he moved throughout the area. There were larger prey animals here, but he wouldn't be able to grab one himself. So for now he settled himself with the stirring and the chasing of smaller game. Rabbits and Voles seemed abundant around her.
The oceanside had been nice and good, but Dwin found the plains more to her liking. Foodwise. She had attempted to hunt the crabs the way Val had taught her, but somehow without him being present and guiding her the young wolf had had little success. However, this place, which had appeared rather unwelcoming at first - barren, snow-covered fields - had turned out to be a little gold-mine. On better days few voles would not be considered much of a treat, but with food being scarce as it was, Dwin had learned to treasure every morsel.
It also meant that despite all the hardship she experienced by her rather foolish decision to make her grand tour through the wilds in the least hospitable season, she had made through another day. Not exactly well fed and way leaner than a wolf her age should be, but in good spirits. Today too she had set out to listen carefully for the little rodents and dig them up, if lucky. And she soon realized that she had not been the only one to discover this Smörgåsbord - because she caught sight of another visitor of the figurative restaurant.
"Good day, Sir!" she greeted from afar, nearing the older wolf to see, who he was and perhaps engage in a conversation. It had been a while.
Artok heard a childish voice calling to him. He lifted his head, golden eyes honing in on the girl. He tilted his head towards her, a smirk on his face at her Hello Sir.
He stopped moving to speak. Hello. Out hunting are you?
his voice as always gruff and to the point.He wasn't a fan of small talk, but she was young so he'd attempt to engage in it at least for a bit. Until he grew tired of it or hungry. one of the two.
"I am. Three voles today and an ashdemon, but you do not look like a person, who believes in them," Dwin replied with a bright smile. "But they are not that tasty anyway - more ash than substance," she added. She forgot to mention that these guys were something she had come up with just now.
"My name is Dwin - what is yours?" she introduced herself. "Are you from around here? A pack you call home?"
He froze as she opened her mouth and out dropped word vomit. He blinked golden eyes and shifted. White pelt ruffling just a bit, while he tried to keep track of all her words. She was young and curious, and he wasn't used to it. He tried to remember a time when he had been as such, but all he remembered was pain as an adolescent. Hence why w hen he moved his limp caught him up and he stumbled slightly, but righted himself.
Ashdemons? Never heard of em. Voles a mouthful, but I would need to eat like 4.
He tilted his head at her introduction. Hello Dwin. I'm Adlartok from Hildibrandr.
he motioned back the way he had come. Home was that way.
"Adlartok - that is a very original name," Dwin praised, meaning every word. It was not as musical as the ones common in Brecheliant, it had some solid and rough edge quality about it, but at the same time - now that the man had given is name, she could not imagine him having any other.
"I am from Brecheliant - all the way there," she beckoned in the direction of, where she thought her home was, but quite honestly by this point she no longer knew the right direction. Her path led forward only and if fate would have it that forward would one day make a full circle and she would be back at the caldera.
"What does Hildibrandr boast with? So far I have met a pack, who has two gods and a leader, who can talk to the dead. Three aliens. A pack, where they have seen huge ocean monster and eat crabs. A-a-a-and a wolf made of sunlight," she listed all the interesting encounters along the way.
"What do you have? Bear-warlords? Sacred trees? Stream of eternal youth?"
He smirked. Adlartok Arrluk to be proper.
He was not proud of many things, but his name was an entirely different animal. It suited him, fit him and it was a strong name. It was his name.
He listened, didn't know that name, but the general area she spoke of. There used to be packs that way. The glacier he had been wounded, the river wolves, and many others. For amoment he felt really, really old. He knew most of the packs that had been here and were now gone.
Artok chocked on a laugh and shook his head. No bear gods, no one can talk to the dead, no aliens, no sunlight wolves. We have a warchief and that's pretty much eat. Our healer could probably poison a few people. I suppose you could say i am the walking dead. As I should have been dead many times over.
"A real warchief?" Dwin excalimed jovially, because she had spent the better part of her childhood pretending to be a tank (in a figurative sense - she barged on and nothing could stop her, if they were, they got trampled) and playing out various scenarios of either being ambushed and breaking out or sneaking up on unsuspecting enemies (usually the adult figures in her life, who did not know that they were part of the game, until a small set of needle sharp teeth grabbed them by the ankle). Learning that warchiefs were not just figures in stories long past, but living and breathing right now, was an amazing discovery. "Wow - how did he become one? Did he go to many wars to prove his worth? Have you been in war?" she shot questions one after another like a machine gun does bullets. And she was far from finished.
"A poisoner and a zombie too? I knew this day would be lucky!" she went on. World had a lot of miracles in store. "What happened to you? Why should you be dead many times over?"
Artok couldn't stop the chuckle that reverberated in is chest and he nodded. Yes a real warchief.
The girl continued and then ARtok held up a paw. Fury was dead, but he didn't have to say that. For now she could be alive for a moment.
First she not he. Secondly, by fighting and killing and winning. yes she had and yes I have. Though mine were small squirmishes.
He tilted his head, thinking of the times he had fought. The wolves he had chased away or those that had went after him and he had fought.
Artok moved and showed her the scar that marred his right side and his face. When i was about your age. A wolf literally ripped my back open and bit into the muscles there.
"No way - really?" Adlartok may as well had added a lot more gruesome details to his story, because he had just earned a very dedicated listener. "How did that happen - did that wolf want to eat you or did you got in his way?" she was about to ask, if he could show that scar, but at least one filter called "common courtesy towards adults, who are wa-a-a-a-a-y older than you" kicked in and she refrained from it.
"Who did she kill?" another fascinating detail, because Dwin had not met a wolf, who admitted to killing another of his kin. That was another new and another proof that those legends she had heard as a kid were rooted in truth. "Is she a legend? Are you one?" just think, there might be a legend happening that would be retold decades later.
Clearly the girl didn't mind blood and gore. So he continued. Yes she just grabbed a hold and ripped chunks of fur and flesh right out. Muscle and sinew, and fat were just hanging from her jaws. And i fought, but she was a lot bigger than me.
He embellished a little, it had been painful and she had indeed ripped him apart.
She just was angry, because i wasn't her kid.
He shifted and moved so that she could see the scar he spoke of The long ropy pink, and the limp clear from his movements where Tuwawi had ripped him apart.
I don't know really. She killed a few wolves. She's a legend. I'm not.
This was getting to close to home. So he didn't add anymore details about Fury into his narrative. Because Fury was now gone, and it still wasn't a very good feeling.
"Did you lie to her about being your son?" Dwin did not understand, why would anyone want to rip a kid apart just because they were not theirs. And where had Adlartok's mom been at that moment? Maia had been ready to rip apart a stranger for just looking at her young daughter near the borders. And that was Maia - a peaceful and fun-loving wolf. That stranger would not be able to pick up all of its pieces scattered around Brecheliant had Dwin met Adlartok's fate.
"Why do you think you are not a legend? Maybe you are one in making?" she suggested, looking at the jagged scar on the man's back. "Mom says that it is the living, who eventually choose, who people become legends and who get to forgotten. Don't you think it is unfair?"
He shook his head. Nope. She lost her children and it drove her crazy, so when I arrived. And I wasn't who she wanted me to be. She tore me apart. And I was an orphan anyway, so no one was gonna care about what happened to me.
That last part was a bitter realization that he had come to a long time ago. When everyone, but Scarlett had proven to him over and over again, that he wasn't worth anything.
Because I'm not. And no I don't. YOu figure. A legend is made because the wolves that make them, need something to hope for right? Cause legends are made to help us see the world. A wolf rises up against those that hurt them, someone who is say abused. That's the type of legend they're gonna want. Does that make sense?
Dwin had to admit that other than feeling sorry for his fate, she could not imagine at all, what it was like not to be wanted or taken care for. Over time she would realize that she had been incredibly lucky to be born to Maia and Eljay, who loved each other so much that there was enough love for every kid they brought in this world. It also extended to those, who were not their kind. Aunt Ibis's children, when she had passed away. And Shenanigans, who had turned up on their doorstep one day, and soon blended with the Blackthorn four so that it felt as if she had always been there. She would learn over the course of her life that there were far more broken or dysfunctional families and that the real heroes were not only those, who did grand deeds but also those, who overcame all the difficulties life threw their way and came out wiser, stronger and better than those, who had given birth to them.
"I don't think so. It works both ways. A legend is also made to keep a memory alive," she said. "Mom said that as long as we remember people, who we love, they are never truly gone, even if they have died," she shared. "I think that all legends are valuable - both those who are meant to appeal masses and those, who matter to a significant few," she explained. "You might be someone's legend and not even realize it. Not even strive for it, while living," she added.
Artok didn't want pity from anyone. His lot in life had been shitty, sure, but he had learned from it. And he felt that perhaps he was stronger than most because of it. Had he longed for something different. Sure when he was younger, when he was about Dwin's age, but not anymore. Now he was content in who he was and the knowledge of his life.
Artok studied her and then shrugged. I wouldn't know. I've never really loved anyone. Had a fondness for them sure, but never loved.
He backed up and looked over the girl. Well if I am I don't know who. I hope i live up to their expectations then and their legend of me lives well.
"What do you think love is?" Dwin asked and at the same time mused, what she considered it to be, because Adlartok's choice of "fondness" instead of anything alse made her wonder. Whether, what she felt towards her parents, siblings and friends, was really love? Or was love something entirely different? Love stories had never held a particular interest to her - preferring tales of action and mind-games instead.
"Do you think that the wars your warlord waged were for a good reason?" she thought now about legends and how the people in them tended to be glorified and that perhaps the truth was neither that simple nor that beautiful. "Are there any right reasons to kill another wolf?" now this was a pickle.
Artok tilted his head at her question and then dipped his muzzle down. I've never thought on it, because i never wanted it. Never tried for it. Never was close enough to any for it.
That was a lie, but he wasn't about to bare his soul to the pup. Everyone who he had ever loved, had hurt him. Everyone except Scarlett and then he had hurt her. That was a pain that he didn't like to revisit.
To her i Imagine she thought it was for a good reason.
He laughed at her next statement a sharp bark of laughter. Then he eyed her with cold golden eyes. That depends on the wolf doesn't it. It depends on your morals, the way you feel about it etc. I can't answer that, because those i took their life I thought i twas for a good reason, but my good reason. Well it may not be your good reason. You understand?
"Isn't love something you do not think about, but you feel it?" Dwin remarked. "It is an emotion after all. I don't know, if I have felt it, but I think I have seen it," she thought about her parents and how fond of one another they were. "I think that it is like happiness of being in someone's company. And it starts here," she awkwardly tried to point at her chest, where she thought her heart was. "And then it goes all through your body. That's, how I feel joy," she explained.
"So there is no universal good reason for killing another wolf," she concluded from Adlartok's statements. "I think that your good reason to kill someone might not be that someone's good reason to die," she looked him in the eyes. "Maybe it is better not have any reason to kill anyone," she looked down, thoughtful and then something else occurred to her.
"Did those you have killed - did they follow you around like ghosts?" she asked. "Or come back to haunt you in our dreams?"
That's what they say. But i've never felt it. So I wouldn't know. I have seen it. And I've also seen the trouble it can cause.
Artok shrugged his broad shoulders. He had no answers about love.
I think a universal good reason would be if they threaten a child or a family. Then most anyone would take a life, no matter their beliefs or morals or what have you. You shouldn't harm the innocent.
Even as crotchety and rude he was, he knew that. And he would put his life down for children. Littles who had not had the bite of the world yet and were innocent to all things.
No, but my conscience has always been clear, Dwin.
It was a fascinating idea - a man, who had never felt joy. Dwin was sure that, if she were to present this idea to either her mom or Dee, one of them could come up with a story. One sentence and so many things to find out. Why was it so? Was it because he had done something during childhood? Or a spiteful fairy godmother had cursed him at birth? Or had it happened during lifetime - an event that delineated a strict "before" and "after". Maybe he had felt joy, but had decided not to. For whatever reason. Then - think - what could be the cure? How to make a heart three times too small to become happy and whole again? Dwin did not yet have the creativity to come up with these answers herself, because there was so much she did not know. The further she travelled, the more people she met, to a greater extent did she admit her gaps in knowledge.
"Then it is like this - you are good and moral until you are challenged? I would never attack anyone out of nothing, but if I was threatened, I would defend myself - is that what you point to?" she concluded. "So - self-defense is okay. But, what about waging wars? There is always someone, who starts them - that's according to existing legends. Who has the right then? The one, who starts or the one who gets attacked?" it seemed that there was more ambiguity, when it no longer was an individual situation, face-to-face confrontation. "What if... a war starts because of a lie? And you believe that lie to be true and a good reason and later find out that it was not so? What then? How to live with your conscience then?" Dwin knew that it would be horrible for her.
Artok had not felt join in a long time. Long time. He had felt lust, had felt a small burning of contentment, but joy. It had been a long time. Even his moments with Miss. Arlette and Sovereign were not filled with joy. They were moments of contentment for him. When the world wasn't so hard.
Again that depends on the wolf. Every wolf has their own moral code. For instance I may think different about something than you do. YOu kill for self-defense. I would kill if someone made me angry enough. IT is what it is. But you and I have different moral codes.
Again a shrug of shoulder. And dip of muzzle.
The problem with war, is usually both side think they are in the right whether lies or non. I think were i to get lied too and then go to war. I'd be angry not sad. I'd be angry and swear revenge on the one who had lied to me.
"It is, what it is," this sounded so final and fixed in place and every fibre of Dwin's being cried in protest. She refused to agree that there were things that could not be changed in life. At the same time she was frustrated, because she could not come up with any convincing argument to refute this. Adlartok's age and experience made it difficult for her to prove him wrong.
"What is your moral code?" she asked instead. It was a new concept to her, because she had thought the her set of morals were universal. That everyone observed them. Now she learned differently.
Artok bent his head and looked her over a small smile on his face. Little girl. You shouldn't try and save all the devils in teh world. It will crush you beneath it's heel. I cannot change, but that doesn't mean another won't.
Artok smiled. Eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. Don't harm the innocent. Don't brutalize women.
He had the years and the attitude to back what he said. An dhe believed it almost wholeheartedly. There was no denying that he was old and cranky though.
"Why will it crush me?" Dwinn asked, genuinely curious. She had had no intention of saving anyone - unless they asked themselves, but the proposed idea was interesting. "Do you know many devils?" she asked, having got an impression that Adlartok had personal connections in Hell. "Do they need saving at all - I mean they have their Dark Overlord there, don't they? And doing mischief is, what they do! Oh... I wonder, what their moral code is?" she got carried away on another train of thought. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good?" she looked at the old man with a twinkle in her eyes. "That sounds about right, what do you think?"
"What about men and children? Maybe it is better not to brutalize anyone?" Dwinn wanted to clarify. "My brothers sometimes annoy me, but I would not want anything bad happen to them. Or my dad. He is a good person."
Artok looked her over and blew out a breath with a smile. Not actually crush you. It's figurative. YOu know emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Whatever you believe in that has to do with your inner workings.
I've known my fair few I'd say.
If she ahd asked. He'd have laughed and agreed. He had his own connections to hell. Had a nice little carved out niche just for his sory ass, right here on earth.
It's possible I wouldn't know if they did or not. I've never been to hello. Though i'd wager it depends on the demon you're talking to and about.
Artok looked her over. Mean things happen to good people. There's sometimes no reason for it. Does it make it right now. Does it mean something, hell no. But it happens. I don't brutalize unless i must and only to survive, but it's important to know there aren't so many like me, some are worse.