Wolf RPG

This spring morning was chilly. Dew clung to each blade of grass, each trembling leaf. The world was at peace on this sunny, cool morning, but not for long. Eilidh yawned and stretched, slipping out from between her father's legs. The world was bright and sunny, and today she was going to explore a little further, expand her reach as far as she could see.

The cream-colored princess stepped out into the sunshine, reveling in the warmth it provided, and began snuffling around the rendezvous site. She was hungry, but curiosity was winning out today. She paused to look back at the sleeping pile of family, and content that she wasn't watched, stepped toward the entrance of their little clearing, eyeing a bright purple wildflower on the edge of the entrance. Just a few more steps and she'd be there.

But other eyes were watching the youngling as she made her way beyond the tangle of family. It hadn't taken Malachi long to realize there were little ones here. Their scent held mostly to the Plateau's heart, and when he first caught wind of their scent, he had recoiled to the perimeters, not trusting himself to draw near them and fearing the potential of their parents' wrath upon him.

But like Eilidh, his curiosity soon won out. It felt dangerous to be here, but he wanted to see the children, to know the young lives he was to protect even if he chose to stay far from them. His icy eyes watched the site from a safe distance, his only company for a long while the spring chatter of the birds and the whispering of leaves. But soon a blur of gold shifted and Malachi, still concealed by the distant trees, lifted his gaze to rest upon the emerging youth. His heart twisted and prompted him to leave. But he resisted and he watched with eyes straining to distinguish the features of the pup. He couldn't see her face clearly, but the sight of her stirred in him a bitter memory of the Sveijarns' little brood and his own kin, all of whose faces were lost in the softness of childhood. He shifted, kept his eyes trained, and worked to commit the little one to memory in their place.

The wildflower that sat on the edge of their glen was mere inches away. However, the wind changed at that exact moment, and the scent of another, a stranger, wafted toward her. She paused, one paw lifted beneath her chest, head turned toward the source of the smell. She didn't see anybody, but their glen was surrounded by trees and shadows, the perfect hiding place for wolves. Eilidh wasn't afraid. She set down her foot and took one firm step forward, emerald gaze roaming the treeline.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice soft but proud. She was not afraid. Not even a little bit...okay, maybe just a little. But whoever was out there didn't need to know that. "I'm the princess of the plateau! I demand you show yourself!" The little girl was there no longer; now she was a wily, haughty child, hellbent on living up to her princess status. Everyone would bow to her will.

He felt the shift of the wind, the reverse ruffle of the breeze through his fur, and took the change as his cue to leave. One second too late. Before he had the chance to abandon his watch the girl turned and fixed her eyes upon the copse where he crouched in wait. Malachi buckled down again. A curse hissed in his ears, against whose voice Malachi furrowed his brow and steadied himself. His eyes darted to her parents before shifting back to her, who had no doubt scented him, but hadn't yet seen him. Which meant he still had time. If she turned away, maybe he could still steal off -

But of course she had to take a bold step forward.

No, go back! Internally he urged her to turn around, but to the world he remained a silent shadow. He cursed her pride when she instead called out to him with boisterous fervour, and Malachi bit his tongue. He should have left when he still could - but who was afraid of children? Vexed at himself, the young man shifted and took only enough time to gather himself before he slipped from the shadows to a patch of forest where the sun dappled the undergrowth and now lighted his mottled fur. He rested his icy gaze upon her, and prayed she wasn't the sort to scream in terror at the sight of a stranger.

It took a long moment of her glaring into the shrubbery for someone to show themselves...Someone being that new wolf she had yet to meet. She had smelled his scent on the wind, had smelled him passing by, but hadn't been able to meet him. Where he thought she would scream, Eilidh simply took another bold step forward, puffed out her chest, and lifted her head high in the air.

"Are you spying?" she asked pointedly, her emerald green eyes turning icy and hard. She was unaware of the way her body was beginning to grow and mature, the way in which, soon, her body would be tantalizing to a male such as Malachi. For now she was ignorant of that, and simply stood forcefully in his path.

She wasn't a screamer, but she was a bold one, and he felt a flash of annoyance at her persistence. If she had been larger or older, she'd have made a formidable presence. But she was neither large nor old, and despite her budding maturity, she was still in the midst of childhood, and he saw her as a child in return. She seemed to walk in paws too large for her. Yet even still, he found it peculiar how well she managed to fit them all the same, and try as he might he could not stifle the ghost of a crooked grin that twitched across his face.

He flicked his ear at her accusation and pressed his lips tight. Well, he wouldn't have called it spying, but all things considered, he had been watching them, and he hadn't exactly wanted to be seen. As much as he wanted to argue otherwise, he knew he had little defence of his own, except that a spy in the open was hardly one at all. "Not anymore," he finally said, and he eyed her family again. Still sound asleep - yet he couldn't help but notice she was peculiar against her heap of tangled kin, every one with a shared shade of shadow, while she alone played a tiny ray of light.

She noticed the ghost of a smile spreading across his lips, and it only made her mad. Who was he to spy on her, the princess of the plateau?! Who was he to even come near her home, the rendezvous site, without her permission? The indignity of it all rankled the young lady, and though she was still quite small, she wasn't a baby anymore. At least not in her own eyes.

"Why were you spying? she asked, her voice soft and sweet and yet with an edge of hardness within. She had little patience for the likes of this wolf, and wondered what on earth he had been staring at her family for. "What's your name?" she demanded, lifting her head ever-so-slightly, her bright eyes piercing across the distance.

But the girl wouldn't let him off so easy. Though her voice was sweet, there lay a firmness to her words and a persistence he imagined would ensnare him if he tried to turn away. Though a princess, she carried herself like a queen, and Malachi concluded he was stuck here until she determined he could leave. He did not wish to be scrawled in her black books, nor did he wish to be around when her parents awoke. They would certainly have more to say if they saw him scuttling around their den like a vagabond, and his cover came quick. "A strong princess needs to be aware of her surroundings, even if they are as familiar to her as the back of her own paw," he said, and prayed she would buy him, "I was curious to see if you were this type of queen." The words came easy, and were not a total lie. He ducked his head to her, both in hopes the motion of submission would please the girl, and to make up for the respect he had already failed to give her. "But it was rude of me to intrude on you and your family. My name is Malachi. And what may I call you?"

As he spoke, Eilidh lifted her head haughtily, not-so-secretly enjoying the thought of him wanting to test her princess prowess. He even said the word queen, which drove her crazy in the best way. Being queen of the plateau would please her greatly. That spot was vacant as far as she knew, and though she and Dante were many years apart in age, she wondered if he'd take her as queen. She was young, intelligent, and spry. Her mother was the beta, and she didn't want to step on her mother's toes at all.

All this transpired in the space of a moment and was shattered by his apology. She watched him, her green eyes sparkling in the dappled light, wondering what he had truly wanted. It couldn't have just been to test her. She didn't even know him! "It was rude of you, Malachi. I am a good princess and will forgive you. I am Eilidh Mayfair." She wore the name like a crown, and felt her little chest surge with pride.

His words seemed to please her - a first for Malachi in these parts, and though he did not think himself in the clear, she seemed to take his apology for what it was worth. At the giving of her name, however, she swelled. Eilidh. He could recall another whose name had ignited the curiosity hers did, and he stirred at his memory of his marshland encounter with the fire-kissed queen. He had almost forgotten the day - a better time for them both, one of promise and hope, yet one so quickly lost to the raking of claws and the swelling of the sea. The veiled warmth of his heart faded to a bitterness as sharp as salt, and made manifest by the tightening of his brow.

"Your name is very fitting, Eilidh Mayfair," he said and slighted his head to the left. "What does it mean?" It was something he had wished to ask of Tuwawi, but had never found the chance.

Eilidh smiled softly, taking yet another step toward the wolf. They were not that far apart in age, though Eilidh was still just a pup. Malachi didn't seem very old; definitely not as old as her parents or Dante! He complimented her name and asked what it meant, which brought thoughts and memories to the surface. What did it mean? Her Pappa had told her once, and though she strained to recall it, once she had she would never let it go. "Pappa told me it means 'light.' I guess like my fur." She was robed in swathes of ivory and gold, cream and bronze. The child was small, yet growing every day, and behind those emerald eyes were the wits of a woman, ready for battle.

Her name meant light, well fitting for her appearance, and he gave a faint smile in return. "I guess so," he said, though he couldn't help but wonder if her parents had hoped it would take on a greater meaning as she grew. "Mine means messenger. I guess my parents had high dreams I'd be a scout, but I bet they were plenty disappointed when they got me instead," he shrugged and let a humoured grin steal his face, but past his joke his heart felt the familiar twist of cold anger and shame. He knew too well that hadn't been their intent in the least. My messenger - my angel, his mother had often whispered. If he had chosen to become a scout or a healer, his parents couldn't have cared less. They'd had only one prayer for him after their firstborn had died and he had become the eldest of their line: that he would become a protector to his younger kin, in his own generation and in those that followed. If only they could see what his life had become. They would surely grieve at how sorely they had placed their hope.

Eilidh liked the meaning of Malachi's name. Messenger. She pictured a brave wolf moving from pack to pack, telling them the way their lives would grow, and helping them achieve what he said they should. What was that called? Dusty something? Eilidh shrugged the thought away and smiled instead. "I like your name." Eilidh wasn't one to lie, either; she told the truth no matter what! That was part of her duty as princess: always keep the truth in her heart.

But then Malachi's whole body changed and he seemed to sag, to be sad as he said his parents probably were disappointed. Eilidh frowned as she sat, wondering..."What does...um...disappointed mean?" It was a big word, and she took her time very carefully sounding it out in her head before she spoke it aloud. "You are strong and healthy and smart! They couldn't not like those things, right?" Her mind was still childish in that regard, even if she understood much of the world she had encountered. But this was different. Eilidh could not understand what the word meant or how it could be applied from parents to their children.

Disappointment. He hadn't realized how his body had fallen. He only saw the face of his father, his solemn features, the sag of his shoulders when he'd stared back at Malachi and had told him his time had come to leave. His father hadn't been angry, not like Adah had been. He had just looked at Malachi through dull and weary eyes, his voice quiet and calm. Malachi almost wished his father had chased him off with glistening fangs instead. Sometimes, the silence was worse.

If only being strong and healthy and smart was enough. But there was so much that mattered beyond those small things. Malachi tried to pull a smile, if only to lighten the heaviness on his shoulders, but it was fleeting. He hadn't come with the intention to spill a burden on Eilidh, but like always it seemed he'd managed to turn the conversation south. He couldn't just ignore her question, and he tried to shield the tightness in his slow and careful voice. "Sometimes, someone expects you to be a certain way. But even though you try to live up to what they want of you, you make mistakes. Sometimes a lot." He breathed in. "And sometimes, after a while, you realize you'll never live up to what they want of you. Disappointment is when they realize that too, and it upsets them." There was so much more to it, but how could he explain? How could he describe the indescribable look they cast, a gaze once filled with love and warmth turning only to reflect the failures they saw? All he could ask was, "Does that make sense?" and hope it did, because he didn't know how to describe something so heavy to someone so filled with light.

Malachi was sad, and in turn, that made Eilidh sad, too. She was normally quite a happy girl, though she didn't frolic or chase rainbows. But she knew the value of happiness and strived to be happy in all things. Perhaps Malachi hadn't been taught that value, or his parents' disappointment had drove it from him. Either way, she didn't want to think about disappointment, and so she shook off the conversation with a flick of her tail. "Enough of that, Malachi. It's too sad."

She walked a few paces from her family's den and sat down in the little glen there, wondering if Malachi would join her. "What do you like to do for fun?" She asked him, turning her bright eyes upon him. "Do you know any trades? Pappa thinks I should be a tracker, but I'm not so sure." It wasn't that she didn't want to be a tracker; it was more the fact that she didn't know what else was out there for her.

A faint grin traced his lips at Eilidh's reprimand and he complied, more than ready to turn his thoughts away from the painful memories better left behind. This was his home now, and his life was with the wolves of the Plateau. Not with the Vale, not with Duskfire. He could never outrun his shame, but as the days passed, he hoped his guilt would fade - though a part of him felt guilty for thinking this. But there were better things to ponder - things more tangible and pressing - and he found his desire to follow Eilidh void, for once, of hesitance.

He settled a few paces from her, and his grin grew sheepish. In the midst of life's burdens, the mention of fun sparked distant memories, ones he had neglected to keep. Hunting with his siblings, the nights they'd snuck out of their den to tell stories by the starlight, the tricks they'd played on one another - and a huff of a laugh escaped him, though his heart twisted in his chest. But it was a different sorrow - a good sadness, unburdened by disgrace. He couldn't find the words, so he turned his focus to trades instead. "Tracking? Well, it's a good thing to learn, even if it isn't what you spend most of your time learning. My brother was a great tracker, but I was more of a sentry - what you call wardens, I think." That was what Tyrr had called them, anyway. Those who defended the pack before threats could find their way in - but Malachi turned his mind from that. "But my father was teaching me the skills of a Chronicler before I left home. The recording and recounting of history, and the importance of remembering and learning from the past." And maybe that was why he found it so hard to forget.

In the late afternoon sunlight, Malachi's coat sparkled silver as he moved. Eilidh watched him retreat to her side, leaving the vicinity of her family's home, and wondered. Did he have a mate? Did he want one? Eilidh wasn't exactly ready for all that, but Malachi was handsome. She knew he would be a good mate for someone; he was strong, quick, and intelligent. 

He told her that tracking was a good thing to learn, and she snorted and rolled her eyes, as if she didn't know that already. But she settled down into a quiet state of rapture as he talked about being a warden and learning to be a Chronicler from his dad. Remembering the past, knowing history and lore, and all that other junk. Warden. A sentry, a guard! That fit Malachi perfectly, for he was stoic and unmoving. Perhaps, perhaps she could convince her dad to let him have that trade! "Could you teach me to be a guard? Or a chron... chronicicle?" She stumbled over the word unabashedly, sure that Malachi would correct her, and then she'd know the difference for herself.

History enraptured Malachi much more than the duties of a warden, and in his childhood he'd chased after the trade with more passion than either of siblings. He'd taken up the position of sentry as a necessity, a requirement in the Vale and to satisfy his father. Even the masters of chronicling were expected to learn a more physical trade to aid the pack, whether as sentry or tracker, healer or diplomat. Only when he reached the Wilds did his roles switch. For the months he'd spent alone, chronicling had proved useless. History, stories - they'd done little for him in the world beyond his sheltered life, and remembering had only hindered him. If only he had spent more time mastering the skills he'd brushed off in favour of the histories - yet here, with Eilidh so attune to his word, he felt the pull to pass on what he knew, for every skill he knew. Her request lit his face with a genuine grin.

The only thing that stopped him from agreeing without reserve lay in a protective embrace around their darker children. A new recruit teaching their young - Malachi didn't know if that was acceptable here, but one look at Eilidh's face sealed his decision before doubt could kick him in the head. If their daughter was so eager to learn, surely there was no problem in that. "Chronicler," he first corrected, "and I don't see why I couldn't teach you, as long as it's alright with your parents." Whether he had the credentials of a teacher was debatable, but Eilidh's mere presence, alight with potential and desire to learn, clouded his thoughts and the worry that would later arise.

The grin that split his maw made her own light up again, and she was happy to finally see him give more than a cursory grin in reply to something she said. Malachi was not the most outwardly emotional wolf, while Eilidh was the opposite. She was glad to have made him smile. He corrected her softly - Chronicler - before suggesting that he could teach her.

Eilidh nodded quickly, bouncing onto her feet with her puppyish joy. "Mamma would like that! Pappa wants me to be a tracker, a hunter, but I dunno. Maybe. But learning histories sounds fun!" It would be a welcome distraction from the insufferable heat of summer. "When can we start, Malachi?" She bounced around him for a moment before stopping before him, her paws spread out in the stance of a play bow. She didn't want to play, but she was just as excited!

If his voice came easier, his smile would have broken to a laugh, but instead he watched her bound in silence. A grin cracked over his face and a brightness lifted his eyes. He didn't think to what he'd agreed to, the task he would undertake. Her energy warmed him, and the innocence of her youth brought a lightness to his chest.

"I'll need some time to figure out where to start." He knew how to tell history, and he knew his own, but for the Plateau, their story was hidden from him. Eilidh would need to gather that from her parents and Dante, but he could teach her how to remember and how to tell that which she would learn. He dipped his head to her as a seal of commitment, and didn't lift his gaze from her face. "But, I'll find you when I'm ready, I promise."

His promise was his bond. Eilidh felt lighter in her heart after finding a trade to study. Now that Malachi had agreed to teach her about being a chronicler, she would devote herself to learning anything and everything about the area, her pack, the wolves that filled its ranks. She smiled up at him, her childish mannerisms clear for all to see. "Okay, Malachi! I expect you to find me soon!" Then she bid him goodbye and slunk back into the pile of family, tucked herself beneath Constantine, and settled in for a catnap.