Wolf RPG

Sulukinak followed the sea when she found it again. It was familiar. She had hoped that it would draw her brothers out of hiding if they were near; and yet night after night passed with no sign of them. Her hunt shifted to include anything to put in her stomach. For a time she investigated the sand for things to scavenge, and was drawn in to the forest beyond the sea.

Here, there were signs of many things. Winter touched this place but not to the extent of the bay. The trees were imposing and ancient, and she felt overwhelmed as she walked among them, as if this were somewhere forbidden. Nothing this old grew upon the island where she had been born.

Snow fell but never reached the ground. Once he entered the woods, however, the air grew warm and the sky grew dark. He was a shadowcreature between these strange trees; he felt watched. Followed.

Invisible, somehow.

He had meant to hunt, but instead he drifted with his dark nose twitching only idly. He was too large to race between these knotted ferns and spindly trees. It would be all too easy to twist an ankle in an unseen rabbit hole. He imagined the floor was made only of fern and detritus, and that he might crash through entire to a subterranean world if he did not step carefully.

But it was a peaceful, contemplative sort of danger. A storybook kind of fear. He enjoyed it for a time, right up until another shadowcreature gave him a real fright. He almost passed it off as a trick or the light — but no, there was another wolf there in the distance, threading through the trees.

"You frightened me," he accused, his voice carrying strangely, thinly through the fog.

It was hard to track anything in this place. It was dark and grim with winter, and the fog only made things look less and less real. When a voice carried to her, Sulukinak startled and froze. Her eyes were wide and gleaming bronze discs, until she saw him. The mist clung to the ferns and seemed to snare the man in place; and Sulukinak watched him with a hunch to her shoulders, as if to make herself smaller.

She breathed, tasting the empty flavor of the anirniq which appeared to flow from the man. Ice mother had always kept her safe and hidden when strangers came to their island, and now that Sulukinak was here in the world, she did not know how to respond except to stare and to quiver.

She didn't respond aloud, but the panther had been spending enough time with silenthunter and Fallen Sun that this didn't phase him. Her body language said, Me? and that he had scared her, too, and that she was not at all certain about his intentions.

Dutch didn't shrink as she did, but the way he carried himself shifted so that he did not stand so tall.

"That's alright," he said, his voice a quiet, friendly burr. His tail whisked as he took cautious steps toward her, not wanting to frighten her into bolting. "I wasn't paying attention. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

His nose twitched as he took in her scent; she was alone, at least for the moment.

How had mother done it? Sulukinak had never been brave enough to see, and wondered often about it. Nukilik had said the men who visited were after one thing or another, and they would not stay, but a bargain was a bargain; better they not know of the cubs, in case they were dangerous.

Here was not the island. Here was where the hungry men roamed, seeking the sun. Here the winter had barely touched upon the land and the days remained bright (for a few hours anyway). Sulukinak felt she had crossed from one world to another.

Around them, the mist. The voice of the man. He sounded -- not dangerous, as ice mother had said; not friendly either, but something between.

Are you a spirit? she tested her voice, having rarely needed it. This was as bold as the girl could be, for now.

The frozen wariness of the stranger made Dutch want to turn and run — it felt sinful to stand here and accost her, even if he felt he was being as kind and friendly as possible. But though her anxiety was palpable, it was not clear to him yet whether she considered his company unwelcome. It would be awfully lonely, he thought, to fear every wolf he came across.

"Aren't we all spirit underneath our flesh and fur?" he asked with another smile that, if it could be called reserved, was only so for the strange young woman's sake. "A spirit does not leave a trail to follow. But see my pawprints? And my scent — living blood. Body heat. It tells you who I am, and where I have been. With a spirit, this is not so."

He wove slowly through the trees, coming just a little bit closer. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that each cloudy breath could be marked by sound as well as sight.

"And a spirit does not have a name," he told her, his voice very quiet — as if this were a secret he shared. "And you must never tell them your own, lest they take it from you. But I will tell you mine, yuva chhaaya — I am Dutch, of the village Moonsong."

In the silence, the implied question rang: Now what is yours?

There was logic to how he spoke. He made sense. He was as physical and as real as she was; and when the man spoke of these different things her eyes flickered to his paws, his scent, his voice, as if to check off boxes that could prove his living status. He spoke his name — and some sounds she did not know, which earned a childish tilt of her head — and then the name of a village.

She realized after silence resumed, that she stared. That he expected something; this Dutch man. Her eyes widen a moment, and she answers, Sulukinak. It tastes strange upon her tongue. She has never had to say it aloud for anyone before — ice mother called her this, and called her brothers things too, but they never once had to call out for her in the same way. It was always sister to them, or sometimes daughter; it felt almost taboo to utter it.

The girl licked her lips, as if she might put a voice behind her thoughts, but her mind went elsewhere; and when she did speak, it was to ask, Where is your — village? Perhaps he meant his conclave, but he looked too old to still reside with his mother.

She was an odd girl, wide-eyed and fey. He might have been given to wonder if she was a spirit herself, except he sensed instead a childish sort of stoicism. Dissociation he might have called it, if he had known such a term. He had a physical reaction to the instinctive and yet unnatural stillness of the girl — his stomach clenched and his throat felt tight. He wanted to speak to whoever had been in charge of the girl's care, or whoever should have been in charge, at least. And yet, she was a woman grown, able-bodied and apparently independent. Part of Dutch knew that she was past the need for someone to fuss over her, but a larger part felt he was now being given the opportunity to correct this oversight.

"I am pleased to meet you, Sulukinak," he said, and his tone and expression were serious; he meant it, and he hoped he could convey that properly.

He sat, hoping it might help her relax.

"There is a glacier to the east of this place, across a wide open field. The village rests in the mountainside. We are lead by young cloudwoman, Ariadne. She is a sweet girl — your age. Strong hunters protect her. Myself, and the man Kaluktuk, and two who are very quiet. And there is the young healer, Aminthe, and the shield-maiden Tulugak."

He couldn't tell if she was shy or timid or merely thoughtful, but were their positions reversed, he thought he would've liked to know what sort of place he was being invited to. And, speaking of inviting —

"They would all welcome you with kindness," he said, and he made his tone lighter to say this; their kindness was nothing special; he hoped she would receive it anywhere she went. "If you wanted to visit, or to stay."

As he explained his place in the world, he gave names and descriptions. All that Sulukinak hears was glacier and her thoughts began to churn.

She had outrun ice mother and now was being told of a place where many gathered - a cold place, a quiet place; and there were women there, like herself. Sisters for her, maybe. It felt fortuitous and also dangerous. What if this man was lying? What if he only said what her heart wanted, to lure her? There were warnings going off within Sulukinak that rivaled the sense of familiarity his telling elicited; but she was naive, and lonely, and chose not to let her apprehension win.

He offered her this story, and this invitation. Sulukinak knew hunger now, and fear, and a desperate sort of loneliness, and Dutch offered something to help. She had run once - if she needed to, Sulukinak could run again.

Show me? She wanted to see this place. It was so much like the conclave of her mother, but vastly different - that there was not one mother, but many, and men who could live among them? These were not the hungry men that had been taught to Sulukinak. They sounded like brothers.

He thought perhaps that she might need to think on it. Perhaps he would wake one day and find her at their doorstep. Instead she asked to be shown to the place, and the panther's tail swept the ground at his hocks.

"Certainly," he said, a kind smile belying his enthusiasm. His movements were measured and placid so as not to take her by surprise. "The journey is not long. You will be able to visit this forest still, if you'd like to."

The panther worked off instinct to keep the young woman's sense of freedom intact. He was wary of making her feel cornered or leashed — the tense line of her reminded him of Valiant, just a little. The way the other man always seemed poised to take off at a run was echoed in Sulukinak, although, he thought, perhaps to different ends.

He set a brisk but easy pace, careful of hurrying and lingering, both.

"Did you travel far to this place?" he asked her. It seemed that any who did not know the moon packs must come from another place.

The man began to move and Sulukinak watched him, at first too cautious for her own good. She eyed him the way a cat might watch a cougar - seeing it as familiar, but somehow monstrous, dangerous. He was slow and purposeful as he moved and showed no sign of harm. When she felt comfortable enough to follow, it was in fits and starts; moving silently through the snow with such ease it was clear that Sulukinak was accustomed to it.

His question could have been answered by observation alone. She slipped in to shadows and appeared to vanish from time to time. Her voice came drifting to him: From where there is no sun. She did not know the cardinal directions. From another pocket of darkness, It is cold, always.

Ah — "The land of long nights," he said, the idea solidifying before he'd verified that they spoke of the same place. It was fact, now, in the panther's mind. "There is great beauty there — but I always find I miss the sunlight, and the sandy beaches."

He did not miss the girl's trepidation. Little shadow indeed! She traveled in his wake, tip-toeing, until he had to glance behind him to verify her presence. After the second glance, he made a decision to trust that she would continue to follow and looked back at her no more.

"Cloudwoman will lead us to the caves, soon," he said, his tone light. "Some will sleep there. Most, perhaps. I think I will still find my sleep under the sky. That is one thing I liked about the land of long nights. There is nothing to cover it, and there were almost always stars."

She found approval in his tone, and shared a sense of kinship with him as he spoke fondly of this place. Had he been born to the cold and the dark? Sulukinak could have asked, but chose instead to be silent and accept that everyone came from there.

When Dutch spoke of caves and starlight her voice parried, I used to be afraid. Of the stars, I mean... I thought they were many eyes watching. Dutch turned no more and Sulukinak watched the back of his head, and the way his muscles flexed as he moved across the snow.

Mother told me stories that helped. She spoke of this as a child might, rather than a woman grown.

The fur at his nape prickled as Sulukinak began to open up with an anecdote from her childhood. He could scare himself with such tales, he thought! And perhaps he would weave it into a story one day — but not, perhaps, until Sulukinak had spent a little more time in the light.

Her tone did not strike him as odd. She was a girl to him already, if not by age then by her demeanor. This was why he was determined to bring her home, where he could tuck her into the rest of his fold. She might get on well with Fallen Sun, he thought, and Ariadne's kindness would surely be a boon to her.

"Will you tell me some?" he asked her, cupping an ear in her direction while the other remained on the swivel. "I am a weaver of words by trade. I am always looking for new tales to tell."

The stories were varied, and were muddled with the lessons that ice mother had shared. Sulukinak did not think of herself as a great storyteller. She thought of those many lessons passed to her or her brothers, and suddenly felt exposed. Or, maybe that wasn't the correct way to see it; Sulukinak felt those moments were precious and scattered now, as she was far from home and her relationship with her mother had become so foul, so confused.

She went quiet when the man asked after the stories. These were precious things. These were histories and lessons taught mother to daughter, and Sulukinak felt she should not share them - dared not; because what else did she have to cling on to, to remind herself of what she loved and lost?

It wasn't too long before Sulukinak recognized she had not answered Dutch. Her silence was answer enough, and should he look at her again, he would see indecision curving her ears back.

The seconds ticked by. He felt as if he could hear Sulukinak's mind whirring, and so he was patient in his expectation — but he did still expect. A good measure of time had passed before he began to wonder if she was still behind him at all. He peeked again, and then slowed to a halt when he saw her uncertainty.

"Peace, bachchee. You can tell me 'no'," he said, gentling his tone once more.

She worried him. He did not understand what sort of environment could have made this girl. Was she afraid, or was she merely shy? Would this fear forever make her shrink away, or would it one day make her lash out in violence? He did not know, but he would need to before the spring came and Ariadne's babes were upon the mountain.

"Will you tell me something else? Something you liked from where you grew?" he asked, hoping to find a topic without much weight. Something simple, something she could feel comfortable saying to him so that she would learn that saying things could be comfortable. "Or perhaps you would like to hear a story of my own." Perhaps she needed to be given something before she could be convinced to give up anything of herself. And perhaps she just needed to be given things for no reason. Her trust, he thought, was tenuous. She needed to be won. "Some stories are not easily told. I know this. But I promise mine will be easily heard."

When he stopped she wondered if he was angry with her. Until now he had not wanted anything, and the one thing he asked for - which she seemingly could give - was withheld. As he looked, her eyes went wide like saucers and she froze, only to ease when he spoke again. Banshee? His words were from somewhere far away.

Sulukinak did not know herself to be strange. In the Everdark, one spoke rarely, and if there was nothing to say then silence reigned. Silence had its place. The man was a creature of many voices, and Sulukinak appreciated that for what it was.

He offered a telling.

She gave a nearly imperceptible nod at this, and then hesitated with a paw raised as if to say, do we keep walking? Her tail-tip gave a feline twitch.

It felt like a cosmic joke that he'd found himself in the company of such inarticulate wolves. Towhee was, of course, perfectly capable of carrying a conversation! But not with his back turned to her. And this woman would at least understand him, he thought, even if she did not make any response. It was something he would readily adjust to, but it was a little frustrating, in the mean time.

"It's about this forest," he said, setting off once more. "In this place, wolves may gather twice a year, on the equinoxes, to seek those that might be seeking them. Long lost relatives or estranged mates. Families separated by natural disaster. Wayward sons or displaced friends. Word is passed, and all who hear may gather between these trees to seek each other out."

His ear twisted back, and he was silent for a beat while he listened to be sure she was still behind him. Then he went on:

"You notice that we cannot see very far in this mist," he said, speaking more slowly now while he chose words he hoped would not frighten her. "But we found each other anyway. Those are the spirits that guide us to each other. The same spirits that bring families back together. I do not know if you and I were destined to meet, Sulukinak, but I am glad that we have."

He flashed a close-lipped smile over his shoulder, but soon turned back toward his path. He would not force her to respond to him right away.

Sulukinak did not know the way. She did not know how far, or if they went along the right path. The man Dutch told his story and she moved silently to follow him, finding comfort in this familiar ritual. It felt like she listened to ice mother speaking her lessons; the air would get colder and the road more icy, and Sulukinak would place her steps in her's, and she would be transported back home, and back to a time before the running. At least this was the feeling she had. She knew it was Dutch who did the telling now, and only wished for these other things deep down.

His lesson was of the aether, here. The swirling mists and what powers they held. Sulukinak took in this information as truth, because he had been waiting in the mist for her, and they were united in some way after. To know that these spirits existed here and had sought her out, even taken favor upon her, brought a lightness to the girl that hadn't been present before. Dutch stopped to look at her, and the shadow was peering away, watching the movement of the air.

As Dutch was turning back to lead, Sulukinak caught the motion and watched him, and then asked as their pace resumed, Will the spirits bring my brothers to me? The way the air parted to accommodate her voice made Sulukinak feel too loud; or maybe the now living desire, having been spoken, had scared the spirits? She shrank a little bit, and licked her lips.

In a very quiet voice now, she says, They're good boys. They're just a little lost.

The question was enough to break his heart, even without the added weight of her voice. The panther had to hold his teeth together for a moment to suppress an empathetic moue.

"Oh, bachchee," he sighed, unable to help the small lament. "This, I do not know. The spirits move within this forest. Your brothers must know to come look for you there."

He looked back at her, wishing she would come and walk beside him instead of trailing behind.

"My hunting partner searches for his siblings, too. A brother and a sister. I will spread the word that this place is where siblings must look on the equinoxes — but these words must reach them through mortal voices. We will hope that they are as brave as you, and that they make friends who have friends, and that they will hear someday that there is a place where they might seek you — where they know you might seek them."

He said that word again, the one she didn't know, and now she had begun to link it with herself; but she had heard it wrong initially—the meaning of what a banshee was completely lost upon her even so; she was a far cry from that sort of creature. The way the man Dutch said this word was endearing, like how ice mother called Sulukinak's name sometimes.

Dutch pledged to do his rituals, and there was hope this would lead Agakiggruk and Tuvittugak home to her. A kindness, one she did not expect from a man; but she was glad for it, and welcoming to a degree. It appeared to her that adults were all some form of mystic. Her mother had been two-spirit and anatkuk. Here in the aetherwood, Dutch was something similar.

She was thoughtful about this. Her quiet voice having evaporated now, but her mouth softening, and her eyes looking kindly upon the man instead of at his feet or the dirty snow of their path. Her head gives a little nod. I hope the spirits listen.

If she was sad, or hopeful, or worried, no such weakness betrayed her. Are there many voices here? That word—mortal. That is... a not-spirit? She wanted to learn, always. Learning kept you alive; it kept you useful. And here in this place where Dutch was taking her, she hoped she would keep being useful to stave off the possibility of another tunillalik.

She did not want to run again.

"I hope so, too," said Dutch, and he had to work to keep from getting lost in such thoughts. Thankfully, Sulukinak asked another question, and Dutch had somewhere to rest his mind once more.

"You an I are mortals," he said to her. "All flesh and blood wolves are. We must work together. Say the words to each other, and ask them to say it to others as well. And we have to hope that it will reach the ears that it needs to."

He thought about his own father for a moment, and then he pushed such thoughts aside. They would see each other again when they would meant to. Either here, or in paradise.

"When my family separates, we bless each other so: Be strong and vigilant. Protect one another. I'll see you on the other side. Sometimes the other side is only the other side of a journey. But sometimes it is on the other side of the veil." He looked back at her. "They are not lost to you, Sulukinak. You will see them again. And they will always be your brothers. Your heart's blood. This, I know."

she learned of this flesh and blood thing and understood it. many times her brothers had bruised or bled from one another, and sometimes ice mother bled when she returned from her rendezvous with the hungry men.

the man dutch said that the words would travel; he was a talkative man, a loud one, so of this sulukinak held no doubts. she was glad that the mists had brought them together and knew her brothers would return to her, one day.

we have never been apart. she thought of nukilik and her pace slowed a touch, and she felt her mouth become dry. we-- never, never... why was her voice so heavy? mother would go away to trade with visitors, and keep us hidden. she said we would be safe. we always listened, and we stayed together.

but then they had run, and now they were apart, and sulukinak had not realized the weight of this until now, as the man dutch made promises and well-wishing to the aetherwood.

Dutch felt the hitch in her breath like an arrow through his own chest. It nearly made him stumble, but he was careful to make no sudden movements as he turned to her again, attempting once more to walk alongside her.

"Where did they go?" he asked her, because he did not know what else to ask. Her pain resonated him; he did not know how she ached, but he thought he knew where as the echo of it pulsed in his chest. It was the same place that Valiant hurt, he thought.

But Valiant had never been hidden away. There was something very strange about this young woman, and his uneasiness over it almost matched the empathy he felt toward her.

"Come here," he said, but although the words were a command, his tone was an offering. He held out a foreleg to her; a chest or a shoulder to lean into. It was what his mother had always done for him.

his question burned the air.

where did they go?

it burned to hear it, to register any thought that hinted at an answer. sulukinak did not want to remember.

where?

he called her close and opened up in a way that reminded her of when her mother was loving; but she saw in her memory the red of the blood painted across that once lovely face, and looked away from it with a flinch - away from dutch too where the feeling bordered reality.

after a moment sulukinak folded in among his arms and rested there. she would not tell him.