Wolf RPG

He was here.

He knew by the network of scents laid over the ruinrock. Deposits of fur and excrement spoke of mounted efforts to patrol; the scat was fresh, and distinctly male.

How many times had wolves flagrantly waltzed into his patch of the woods? Anselm had half a mind to skip over the invisible border, give these wolves the same middle finger that'd been pointed in his face like a gun, his entire life. But he didn't -- because he hated when it happened to him, and he respected wolves less for it.

There was another scent, just present enough it caused his heart to wrench. Etienne's. 

Anselm assumed his worst fears had been revealed: he'd been left, the last pillar of his foundation crumbling. And in that moment, he tasted malevolent bile as it singed his tongue -- for Heda, the temptress -- who had stolen it all.

Rather than call, Anselm backed away and began to head south.

Druid felt rather poorly this afternoon after vomiting not once but twice. Yet as soon as the queasiness settled somewhat, she made her way to the borders for a routine midday patrol. They were often uneventful, though that suited her.

Today’s was not as boring as others. She reached the southwestern fringes of the bypass just in time to see a stranger turn and stride away. Druid watched him for a moment, prepared to let him go on his merry way. She assumed he was simply a passerby heeding the scent markers.

But then something niggled at her and she raised her voice slightly to call out, Hello! Can I help you?

Adjacent to where Druid had been roaming was Glaukos, taking his time to investigate scents and watch for danger. There was a measured distance between them; so when the stranger loped in to view it was the woman who would see them first and reach them, while Glaukos busied himself with other work.

When he took notice of the stranger his focus became something more guarded. There had been a number of new faces lately and Glaukos had been accepting for the most part - as it had been Heda and some children, then the arrival of a man he had watched carefully (Etienne); now that another man had arrived Glaukos was becoming more on-edge.

There were mouths to feed, bodies to protect, none more important to him than Druid and Heda with their precious cargo he lay claim upon. He would give Druid time with the man but draw closer and with care, ready in case of danger.

A woman with the scent of bile still on her lips approached. Anselm hoped he was not seen, but her call said otherwise.

He stopped mid-stride, turning back to face her. He did not recognize her scent, nor her features -- but the civil manner in which she hailed him suggested he would do well to spare the same courtesy.

He did not see the leviathan hulking in the trees behind her -- not yet, anyway.

Drawing away from the borders, Anselm remained still while Druid padded closer. When she was an appreciable distance away, he answered. Yes. Vhere is Etienne?

She came closer, a politely inquisitive expression on her face as the stranger turned to face her. He was quite tall, though otherwise unremarkable. There was a vague familiarity to his features. Druid’s lips parted. Then he spoke and she knew, without a doubt, this must be Anselm. It wasn’t just that he asked after Etienne. It was that accent.

I’m not sure, she replied calmly, coming closer now, eyes roaming his face. He was here a few days back, though he’s since left. You must be Anselm. I’m Druid.

He knew to expect visitors as winter slowly melted away, as they would be roaming in greater frequency.

This might be another set of teeth to use against those that would bring harm to his children, he thought; another body to train, to feed. Druid had a good head on her shoulders and would make the call.

Glaukos trusted her for that, and watched in a distracted way while the woman spoke to the stranger but wasn't close enough to hear their conversation.

Glaukos remained undetected. There was the tiniest sampling of his scent on the wind, but Anselm mistook it for a recent marking.

Anselm’s gaze was trained on the woman. She moved in a measured manner not unlike Fiona. Her voice was steadfast.

Another wolf who knew him before he knew them. Anselm resented this disadvantage. He supposed Etienne must have said something - he searched Druid’s face for any hint of an impression. Had it been positive? Negative?

One thing did not track for Anselm. If Etienne left a few days back, Anselm should have seen him at the hollow. Was this woman lying, to turn Anselm away and spare Etienne the discomfort of confrontation? Anselm searched Druid’s darkened face for any shred of information, but found nothing discernible.

Yes. I am Anselm. He drank in the cold air. If Etienne had been here recently, his scent had faded. This much was true. How do you know who I am?

She knew she wasn’t mistaken, though his confirmation elicited a thoughtful purse of her lips. So this was the infamous Anselm. He was purportedly here out of concern for Etienne. She had her doubts about that, though Druid reminded herself she shouldn’t let others’ vague descriptions decide her opinions. He was here in front of her. She could form her own judgments.

You have our—your father’s accent, she replied coolly to his own inquiry. You look like them too. Both of them. Mahler and Wylla.

“Our”. A peculiar word, for a wolf who detested sharing. He leveled Druid with a long gaze. She knew his mother and father. She knew who he was. 

Yet, he could not place her face for the life of him. 

Unsettled, Anselm shifted away. Vhat do you mean, ‘our’? His lips curled - was this one of his siblings, rebranded with a new name? She didn’t not look like his parents; robed in the same austere grey. The eyes were wrong, though. He struggled to remember the descriptions of his older sisters — was this Tiercel?

She’d expected him to catch the lapsus linguae. Perhaps she’d even made it deliberately. She blinked slowly as he questioned her. Whatever else he was, Anselm was sharp.

Swallowing past a sudden wave of nausea, Druid kept her composure as she replied, Mahler was a dearly beloved father figure to me when I was growing up here in Rivenwood… that is, until he walked out of the bypass and my life without so much as a goodbye.

She’d been very composed before — but now… His gaze studied the change in her expression. Was it whatever contributed to the bile he scented from earlier? It was this something else?

His torn ears remained strained ahead in disbelief. Mahler had walked out of her life forever? What did that mean?

Vhat? He exhaled, an angry defense for his father on the cusp of his tongue before he realized. He was living her truth. His father had at least said goodbye, but... He never spoke of Rivenvood. Or of anyvonne named ‘Druid’. Anselm insisted. He wanted to believe that this simply wasn’t true, that there must be something else to the story… but how many nights alone had Anselm spent, half-crying for his father? His lips twisted as parts within him struggled to rectify Druid’s truth with his own. 

Explain. His expression twisted again. Please.

Her heart had hardened against Mahler long ago. Hearing that he’d never bothered mentioning Rivenwood after his desertion should not have surprised Druid, though the callousness still rankled even after all this time. She couldn’t help the hollow bark of laughter that escaped her at Anselm’s simple demand.

Noting the “please,” her voice was incredulous but soft as she answered, I can’t explain it, Anselm. How can a man just turn his back on his family, walk out on all of it one day without a word? Of course, your mother was part of it. I could believe it of her… but Mahler? Druid shook her head. It was egregiously out of character for him. And yet, he did it. During a great time of need, he just abandoned us to our fate.

Her tail switched of its own volition. Druid drew in a steadying breath. Her eyes narrowed a little as she studied Anselm’s face, wondering what he’d say in response. Her mouth watered as another lurch of nausea twisted her innards.

Mahler taught me a hard life lesson that day. When someone shows you who they really are, believe them the first time. I don’t speak ill of your father for the fun of it, Anselm, but because if he was capable of that, he was a monster all along.

Disbelief and shock made itself known on Anselm’s face. His cheeks burned with possibly one of the most unpleasant sensations he had ever experienced: an estranged species of grief.

That Mahler left couldn’t be true. But why would she lie? He was not a practiced sleuth, but even he couldn’t deny she spoke with conviction that conveyed belief. Maybe she was a good liar.

It was certainly a more palatable possibility than the truth.

For a while he was quiet. He wanted desperately to counter everything she said, but he knew it was true. His mouth worked in silent formations, as if he struggled with an answer. Finally, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his voice was a little more resolute.

Well, he is gone now. He and Vylla. You said Etienne left several days ago?

Speaking of Mahler’s desertion reminded Druid of her own decision to leave it all behind, which did not help her sour stomach. She knew she was something of a hypocrite for judging him so harshly, yet he had been a father, a leader, and she had been just a young girl…

She focused on the present, particularly Anselm’s expressions. He looked taken aback, perhaps like he might argue with her. Then he looked uncertain, pensive and, finally, resigned. His eyes closed as she watched, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of saliva.

Yes, he stayed with us a night or two, then he— Druid answered, though she finally lost her fight against the nausea.

She backpedaled quite abruptly, turning her face away from Anselm as her stomach convulsed. She heaved, though there was nothing left in her stomach but bile. Thus she ejected a sticky, yellow mess onto the snowy ground. Druid spat, kicked a clod of grass over the small puddle, then looked up at Anselm.

He left a few days ago, she completed her sentence, as if nothing had happened, I assumed to head back your way. His paws were badly wounded. She paused before wondering aloud, Should we be worried?

things were — things were all right. etienne had come to see them, and the conversation shared between he and druid and herself had been pleasant, even if they'd both been worried about his paws.
heda was just about to touch her first ray of happiness. she'd been dealing with nausea herself, but had weathered it a little better this time just through sheer force of will.
she enjoyed being with druid; wending her way through rivenwood, she found her sister speaking with a familiar —
tension rippled her hackles and she stepped back into the foliage, not noticing glaukos on more than a baseline level of relief at his presence; she didn't want druid to know she was there, but more than that, heda knew she wouldn't be able to keep herself calm anywhere near anselm, not when her scent was changing and her sense of protectiveness sharpened to high.

There was tension. Glaukos moved closer, seeing that Druid wasn't looking very good, and saw her succumb to nausea. He stalked a little closer and caught the scent of Heda suddenly, so he was at once conflicted between who to monitor.

Druid could hold her own against whoever this man was. He didn't seem a threat. Glaukos marched around them and placed himself somewhere between the sisters, unsure of where Heda was exactly, and kept his eye on the man.

By now Glaukos was a little more visible. He kept a stare upon the gray man, eyeing Druid in case she wanted him to intervene at all.

Rather suddenly, Druid began to backpedal. Anselm was on edge already - he took several steps back, assuming the worst. Instead, she vomited something stringy into the snow. She spat and then covered it, resuming as if nothing had happened at all.

Anselm kept his distance - and it was a good thing too, because Glaukos appeared in his sightline. If Anselm was tall, this man was Goliath. While there was nothing indicating hostility in his demeanor, Anselm did not give him a chance to get close. If Druid was sick, he wanted none of it.

Somewhere, he sensed Heda's scent -- but she was not here, as far as he could tell.

Things were starting to click for Anselm in a dangerous way. He began to cycle through what he knew. Fact: his parents had left him at the Hollow. Fact: His parents had done so rather abruptly. If he was to believe Druid, they had done it to her too. They had at least given him the opportunity to go with them - but how could he leave Emmerich behind?

Now he wondered after his missing siblings. Phaedra. Tiercel. Thade. Were they truly missing, or had they received the same treatment he and Druid experienced? Is that what his parents did -- churned out doting children each season, replacing the older for the new, rinse and repeat? Always telling the youngest their older siblings were runaways. Troubled no-good vagrants. Gone. Just up and with the wind.

The reality was far more sinister.

His gaze flicked between the two. 'Should I be worried?' was the last thing she had spoken. I am vorried. Piece by piece, the things that made Anselm Anselm were trickling away. The life he had built for himself was fracturing, and the last large stone to topple was his belief in his parents.

He backed up a step and made to turnGoodbye, Druid. His eyes passed over the large male, before he backed away enough he felt safe turning his back -- and then, unless they said anything else, Anselm was gone.

He declared his concern before whirling and striding away. Druid’s mouth opened, then shut. Hopefully he was off to find Etienne. She wouldn’t want to hold him back from such an endeavor. And though he hadn’t struck her as all that ornery, she wasn’t particularly sad to see Mahler’s son gone from her doorstep.

She raised her voice to call, I hope you find him!

She took a moment to stand there and assess the conversation before resuming her disrupted patrol. Oblivious to her comrades’ proximity, Druid determinedly worked on closing the loop around Rivenwood.