Wolf RPG

He'd always been a terrible den maker and didn't have much experience, but the overturned log he'd found still had its leaves. Which meant he could dig under its branches and chip away at it. Gnawed branches and a shallow indent dug out, dirt filling around the edges.

So there he stood, proud of his handiwork. Almost.

It was the first time he'd been proud of himself in a long time. The... more he looked at it, the less he liked it. Stupid, stupid, it was terrible. He leaped atop it and started knocking it down, finding himself stuck as the thin branches snapped and sent his frame tumbling haphazardly into his own den, collapsing around the yearling.

Mother would've hated it; father would've growled at him to get up and keep trying. But neither of them was here, they wouldn't be here, they couldn't lick his shoulder and nudge him to keep trying. He was alone, and he stupidly left his companion's side.

 Hviske lay in defeat, a tiny whimper escaping his throat.

Kai was by far the fist of God which he one day hoped to become, though as he came trotting up to the stranger, he did his best to look at confidant and strong as one might at his young age. His head high, ears perked forward, mismatched eyes staring him down the bridge of his nose. His tail was rigid behind him- but not straight up. He was, all in all, a guest. One which had not yet proven himself friend but neither had he, foe. 

Who are you? The youth quipped, acting the ambassador of the isle he had yet to become. This island belongs to Sweetharbor... Are you new? Perhaps? Maybe he had only just joined them? Looked like he was trying to make a den which... apparently collapsed around him. Need help in there? His youth becoming more and more obvious with the number of questions followed by him coming closer to investigate, head tilted curiously.

He yelped a bit in surprise. A... pup? Wow, there were a lot of pups on this island. How many mothers were there?

Did they need help looking after everyone?

The yearling cleared his throat. Hviske, viska, it sounded. His mother had named him for the whisper of a bark he'd made as a newborn. True to his history, his voice had always been quiet and hard to hear, even if he spoke loudly. Hard was it for he with quiet words on the outside but a flurry of unanswered questions on the inside. and... no... I do not have... a pack at all. I have not... been a part of one for... a while. 

Hviske's hind legs pushed the rest of him out of the hole. I do not know what I was doing, in truth. he looked every bit as shy as his voice made him out to be, a whine and not meeting the pup's gaze.

His wife called and even if there hadn’t been a sense of urgency in her tone, he would’ve made haste to her. But Heda sounded distressed, so Caracal flagged down Towhee to keep an eye on the smaller pups while he raced to check on his mate.

Caracal came upon the scene and froze, eyes jumping from Heda to Malakai to—who the fuck was that? He inhaled sharply, then glanced at his wife again. She was crackling with wrathful energy, which meant something was very wrong.

Moving to flank his wife with their son—who looked unharmed—tucked safely between them, Caracal stared at the young stranger and barked the question bouncing around his brain: Who the fuck are you?!

Lowering his voice, he muttered out of the side of his mouth to Heda, What do you need me to do?

The fur along Hviske's spine shot up and he yelped in fear for a moment, his eyes faced with two angry wolves. One was the mother he'd seen the other day and the other he could only assume was the father of who knew how many pups on this island. 

His voice was quiet, shaking, trying to remember that while he felt young and helpless, he was the size of a grown wolf. He was the grown adult carrying him through whatever had gone through his head. The yearling's tail curled between his legs, a whine at his throat.

Such a stupid plan. All they did was fail him, what was their purpose if they'd only lead to anger?

Never the strong one, was he. Yellow eyes barely held their gaze higher than the two's paws. My name is Hviske, sir and ma'am, Viska, his mother's little whisper. No one sent me - I do not... have... anyone. And in truth, I do not know what I was doing, a-and I am terribly sorry. It was improper of me.

Not a word of it was a lie.

The other wolf answered him, his voice soft and sentences spoken slowly. He was a young wolf but, in Kai's own youth, everyone looked like adults to him. The other whined, saying that he didn't really know what he was up to. That he wasn't a part of this pack and had not been a part of one in some time. 

There was a 'hrmm' on Malakai's lips. Then why are you in my home? Kai spoke, more flat this time, with the knowledge that he wasn't a new member and in such, didn't belong here. Malakai opened his mouth, ready to bark something else at him, until the voice of his mother caused him to jump and demand his attention. 

Instantly, Kai turned and rushed after his mother, coming close enough to her side to press upon her leg. The fury she held was one he had not ever seen before. Her hairs along her spine dancing like flames. Teeth barred, voice angry. She was God's warrior in this moment, as he had meant to be. 

Then, his father, coming to his other open side. Kai was between them, feeling both safe and filled with pride for the strength of his parents. This wolf did not belong and Kai barked (as fiercely as possible for a baby!) at the stranger as though silently backing up his parents for answers. And the stranger gave them. What would his parents do?

Old enough to know better, Caracal reprimanded, eyes heavy on the yearling.

They could honestly use some extra hands on deck, though he didn’t think they were so desperate they needed someone this blatantly disrespectful and ignorant. He knew God always touted forgiveness, though Heda had already done that once. This wasn’t his first trespass and Caracal could see that his wife was struggling with deciding what to do. He decided to step up and make an executive decision based on what he thought was best for his family and their safety.

You need to get out, now, and don’t come back, Caracal said, complete with a dramatic shooing motion.

He felt like he could cry, tears bubbling silently up his throat as if all the emotions he'd been suppressing had decided this moment was perfect to shed them as raindrops released by downpours. Hviske gulped them down, his body shaking still.

One, ma'am, the spring that came before the past winter gave life to the wolf before them seeking some semblance of belonging. I have not had the courage to approach a pack in seek of membership before. I do not know how. It was too late to turn back, he had to stick this out, and he kept reminding himself of the facts of the situation. Hoping that would at least calm him down and keep him from thinking the situation unfair; fair it was and he knew it so. Childish thinking wasn't appropriate. My age is no excuse for my behavior, nor is my lack of knowledge, ma'am and sir. My parents did not live to see my teachings to completion, though it is no excuse, either. None exist.

Somewhere in between youth and adulthood, where he could only watch helpless as his world shrank and twisted, threw him about as an excited pup may shake a squirrel in play.

But why did he feel smaller than the pup sandwiched between his parents? Why did his heart ache so for such similar treatment? Longing for the warmth of parental love taken from him? It grew too quiet for him, too ripe for thoughts to creep into his ears and whisper things he didn't want, wouldn't help. So close, and yet he felt like the wolves of Sweetharbor were on the other side of the ocean and he was left trying to dodge a merciless tide. 

The yearling's tail found its way to his paws, tucking them under it tightly as if trying to mimic their protective embrace around their son. He pretended his grey tail was his mother's black one. She'd surely be upset with him for making others upset.

But it was painfully obvious neither of them wished to see his face any longer, heeded by the man's words that cut deeper than a bear ever could.

This intruder seemed way too old for the childish sob story, though despite Caracal’s commanding demesne, the truth was they were both at Heda’s mercy. He glanced at her, hoping she would feel the reprieve of his decision, only she countered it by suggesting she and the yearling speak on the mainland. He felt a flicker of confusion which telegraphed across his face, though he only nodded in silent support.

Kai, let’s go back to the hills, Caracal murmured, eyeballing the sniveling stranger and then planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek before disembarking with his son.

The grey yearling, surprise at his heart at her sudden change of behavior, nodded. The man still held his gripes with him, which was fair. Deserved. He was half-expecting them to continue their fury, to never again call his name - not that they had ever even spoken it to begin with. 

I will. Thank you for your kindness, ma'am and sir. I bid well upon you and your family. 

Hviske padded for the mainland without another word.

Malakai watches and listens carefully, taking this as a lesson in guarding their home's borders and protecting the sanctity of their holy lands. 

The other wolf was older then he, but young- a yearling. But this was not his first time intruding and had been directly properly once before by his mother, as stated. God was a man of love, forgiveness and mercy, but there was also a righteous wrath. There was evil. And God protected his flock, as did his parents now. 

Mother was uncertain. Dad made the decision, only then for Heda to wish to further speak with the intruder. Malakai now seemed as confused as Caracal, yet listened to his father and followed after him quietly.

he turned without argument, and heda was surprised, guilty, at the relief that welled through her as his youthful frame faded away toward the edges of sweetharbor. she smiled gratefully at her mate, that he hadn't argued, and watched as he led their malakai away.
heda herself waited some time, pausing to ensure the stranger crossed back to the far land, and breathing a prayer to god, to steady her heart. she would seek her husband first, and then she would answer the message of sweetharbor.