Firefly Glen Kaggik

@Alaric <3

Kannoyak had found that he liked the glen. It was unlike the lands he had hunted in the little river village. It was unlike the mountain, too.

Plum eyes lifted to look over the trees. He had stopped on the edge of a wide clearing that had been snowed on. The trees didn’t grow in that place, but he imagined that when the green grass of summer swept through, it would be lush and vibrant.

The white hunter thought Moonspear was a fine place. He had strongly considered taking a spot among their joiners. Sialuk had intrigued him. Her mother had intrigued him. The two moon villages were alluring in different ways. Kannoyak was not certain where he would land. Until he could come to that conclusion, he would hunt in the wood.

Snout lowered to sniff at an old fox trail.

Long limber limbs moved throught the Great Bear. The storyteller had been out and about in many places and it was such a treat to moce as he wanted.

So many interesting wolves to meet and speak too.  He had learned of aomw of the packs around, but he hungered for more. He often found himself among the land of great bear nwar moonspear and moonglowcand brechliant.

As he walked on this day. Green eyes came to rest on strong back, white fur. Ah yes purple eyes.

He chuffed in greeting. A lazy impish smile lighting up his features.

A chuff drew his pale ears back. Kannoyak turned his head and rested his plum stare upon a familiar face.

Storyteller man, he greeted in a rumbling voice. A pleasant wave of his tail was offered to the other.

The white hunter believed that he could break away from hunting to converse with the man. The last time they had talked had been during a gathering of men and women. Kannoyak had enjoyed his time and had taken interest in two of the villages in the area. He wondered what Alaric had been up to since they had last spoken.

Shifting on his paws, he stepped to the storyteller and closed the remaining space between them.

Alaric grinned. Trail Blazer. How do you do? Green eyes laughed at the male with delight. It was nice to be among those he liked. Alaric weaved his tail in greeting.

Alaric trotted over to meet him. A sniff in the air towards where the game went his white friend had been hunting.

Are you hunting? Have you found a wife to settle down with already? He teased kindly and with a smile on hi sface.

Ah, Kannoyak rumbled in a small laugh.

This one has not found a wife, no. There have been good hunts, though. And there is still a chance for this hunter to find a wife.

The last they had spoken, the storyteller had been fairly detached from the pursuit of romance. He had been more interested in acting as a support to the other men who had gathered. It had not bothered Kannoyak to hear Alaric speak on his beliefs. He had even offered a story without expecting anything in trade.

Now, the storyteller carried the scents of others upon his coat.

You have joined the woman on the mountain? His head canted, curious.

Alaric smiled. There are. I believe Sialuk is still searching for a hunter to bring forth children on the mountain.

Alaric had saw the writing on teh wall the night of the dance. He had been the odd man out. He was not from these woods, he hadn't made connections as the others had. So it made perfect sense to him to be support rather than pursuit.

Alaric gave a nod. Yes but not for reasons you might think. I joined there, because i like the stories the  mountains whisper.

The image of the raindrop woman found a way into his mind. Kannoyak would not have been opposed to a marriage. He was a faithful man and a good hunter. In his village, he would have been wed to one of the many brides and they would have been expected to bring children into their home. It felt fitting that he might find this in the new lands. In this way, he was like his father.

Alaric spoke of stories – the mountain had whispered things to him.

Kannoyak fixed his plum stare on the shimmering grin of the other man’s eyes.

Speak a story so that this one might listen.

The white hunter had already proven himself to be a fitting audience. He would not mind hearing another tale from the dark wolf’s mouth.

Okay Danni original. No promises it will be good :)

Alaric saw the interest in the other's eyes. He would  need to speak with Sialuk, perhaps he could push these two towards each other. They would make a good pair. Pristine and good. It fit well in the picture he formed in his minds eye.

THough he was thrown from his thoughts when the other asked for another story and he thought on it. 

I will tell you of the man who wanted to fly and the woman who wanted to land.

He loosened his body and began to speak, the story spinning itself, while his body moved the motions of the story.

Long ago, there were a young hunter and a young maiden. The maiden traveled and moved from place to place, her family always on the go. Hunter man had been raised in a village, and he never ever left. His job was to help feed the families, and eventually place his own rock upon the village shore and raise his own brood of hunters, teach them the ways of hunters and men.

Alaric moved as if walking long distances and then lay a paw across his eyes and looked out as if stuck in place and only able to see.

But hunter man he longed tofly from his village on swift feet and never return. and walking woman, she only wished to find a home to call her own and raise children and live.

Alaric moved his paw through the sky as he spoke. One season it had been hot and dry. There was no water for miles. And landing woman she and her family traveled and traveled had lost those they loved, when they came across a small oasis, a pocket of peace and a village nestled there.

He moved as if pushing aside a bush and sliding into a greenery place. He looked around with wide eyes as if seeing beautiful things.

Flying man and Landing woman met, and they knew that some how their paths would converge with each other, but how they weren't sure. They learned about one another as landing womans' family shared stories and healing and trades from far away lands with the hunters.

Alaric moved about and circled the male as if handing out things, as if conversing and playing with a pack of wolves. 

Flying man still longed to fly, but he found as he listened to her stories. As landing woman spoke and sat near him, that he flew in his mind. That he went far and fast and free, whilst standing still and it was then that they both realized. he had learn to fly and she had learned to land.

Alaric acted as if he was laying down and had a content look on his face. They lived out their days, with landing woman telling him stories of flying and he giving her what she wanted and that was peace.

The story was longer than the last. Alaric had range, then.

Kannoyak listened to the tale unfold. His eyes were fixed on the distant outline of trees. The pale hunter did not speak or interject while the storyteller practiced his craft. He was reverent and thoughtful. He took in the messages of the story and believed them to be valuable. It was a curious thing, the way Alaric could offer advice through his words. The northerner did not believe that was a skill he would know for himself. Kannoyak was painfully honest and disarmingly blunt.

Alaric is a fine storyteller, he complimented after the other man had finished his work.

How did one become a storyteller? The hunter had to wonder if men and women were born with those tales inside them or if they were learned along the way. He had always listened to the tales that were shared around their village. They had led him into deeper dreams than racing on the white hunting grounds.

How did you become a man of words?

Alaric could tell all sorts of stories, dark ones, happy ones, short ones, long ones. he loved to share his words with others. Tell stories he had heard and learned throughout his short life. He had a memory for it.

Alaric shrugged a shoulder. I was raised in a family of story tellers and healers. My family used to travel from pack to pack sharing their stories, their healing prowess and sometimes their skills for hunting and other things.

he smiled as he remembered his grandparents and his mother. Who was still alive, he was sure, but he would probably never see her again.

This is a noble thing.

Kannoyak bowed his head respectfully.

The shamans and healers of the little river village were powerful. They carried good spirits with them. They were teachers and helpers.

The white hunter found that he missed his homeland. It was good to learn the paths of a new world, he knew. The man thought longingly of the white hunting grounds. He thought of the snow beneath his large paws and the sharpness of the ice. There were many good things in the Teekon land. Kannoyak knew that he would create new memories.

Alaric smiled. Thank you. I like it and find peace as well as purpose in it's folds.

Alaric didn't know much of spirits and the like. Teaching and helping he did. He was actually quite often in teh presence of the young. Preferring them to adults. There was something about little children, that just made him happy. 

Alaric missed home on occasion, but it was more his family than his home itself. He missed his mother whose free spirit would make him laugh and his father who despite his stiff nature was a good man.

The white wolf understood this.

Kannoyak felt most at peace when he worked to create paths between the villages. He had found his purpose in long journeys. He had found his strength in his ability to connect faraway places. Next to this, the man had a great love in his spirit for hunting. He knew his purpose in the world. There were no doubts in the paths that he had chosen for himself.

It is your spirit’s purpose, Kannoyak said to Alaric with a nod.

Alaric was a healer, but his heart loved stories the most. He loved to tell them, hear them, play them. All of the above. It was something that stirred a passion in him that was not often thought of or seen. 

Alaric nodded. Yes healing and storytelling. They are my favorite things. And it is good to be able to trade them, to be of use.

It had been hard at first, learning how to properly share what he did. And it was still hard at times now. But he found a way to handle it. There had been times of course that he had doubted, but he had rallied.

The white hunter nodded his head. In a way he understood.

Did Alaric always know this was his path?

The children of the little river village were different. Some were sharp with their desires and they pursued them swiftly, after finding their footing. Growth allowed them to shape these passions into skills and crafts that could benefit all of the village. Others took time to discover their trades. Others still were directed in a particular path. Kannoyak wondered what had inspired Alaric.

A soft noise in his throat as he thought of what to say. He frowned in thought. A gentle peek of white fang as it poked from his mouth as he remembered.

My path was hard. My father didn't want it for me. He wanted stability, safety. He thought I was flighty and carless and foolish. That I liked danger too much. So though I understood it was my path from a very early age, it was hard to pursue. I did it though, because it made me happy, content, even with the hard times.

There had been times when he had first started out that he had gone hungry, had not learned how to properly win a meal from a pack with ease, but he had learned, he had contributed and he had grown.

It was curious to hear that Alaric’s father wanted a different life for him.

Kannoyak had been raised as a pathmaker. He had followed his father’s large paws across seas of white winter snow. The white wolf had learned the hardship of the cold at an early age. It felt as though he had been roaming since the day he could walk. It felt as though he had chased the caribou on fresh paws. There had been many months that shaped him into the man he was, though.

He is proud of you now, yes? the white wolf asked.

Even if this was not the path he would have picked for his son, Alaric’s father must have felt a sense of pleasure.

Alaric's father had just worried. He worried that his children wouldn't be able to do as his family did. He didn't want them to have to worry about where their next meal would come from or being chased away from packs. He understood this now, he hadn't at the time.

I like to think so. We were on good terms when I left and he had accepted me as I was by then. That it would be impossible to change me. Regardless of anything, even if he wasn't proud of me, there was never any doubt that he loved me and that's enough for me.

This is good. Some fathers do not learn to accept, he said.

Kannoyak had grown with other hunters in his village. He had known the harshness of their father’s tongues. The white wolf had seen anger in many of them. He had also seen overwhelming pride. It was a difficult thing to have a son that did not wish to become a hunter. It was their intended path. Becoming a hunter was how a man served his family.

Some fathers shape their sons from an early age, Kannoyak added with a sage nod. This could be spoken with experience. The white hunter did not resent his father. He was grateful for the things he had learned from the man with deep voice.

Alaric nodded. He also realized fiercely that were he to ever have children. They could be whatever they wanted and he'd love them anyway, unless they were absolute leeches or murderers or something, but that didn't bear thinking. But he didn't know if children would be in his future. He may just be the fun uncle for all time.

That they do. Tell me of yours? We've spoken of my family, what of yours?

The white wolf smiled.

This one has a large family. Many sisters! One new brother who was born after the first snowfall.

The rest were girls. They were loved by their father, as well. Kannoyak knew that his sisters were treasured above all things in their home. When he had been a young boy, he had hoped that he would have a brother to show the hunting grounds, to teach pathmaking. When his parents had introduced them to another litter of girls, Kannoyak could not help but love them.

The Sura family is strong. The man with deep voice, Kannoyak’s father, is a good man who has the village’s respect.

It was simple, just like Kannoyak. The white wolf was fond of the family he had left behind.

Alaric returned the smile. He laughed at the other's words. Sisters are a treasure. Alaric wouldn't trade his sisters for a barrel full of brothers. It would have been nice, but there was something different about sisters. 

This is good. I'm glad you hale from such a good family. We don't really have a surname, Amalia and I took Willow, after are Great or perhaps great great aunt Blue Willow cause we liked her name.

Hm, he mused on the subject of their mentioned surname. Kannoyak had never seen a willow tree. He did not know how beautiful they were, how unique. As a name, it carried a soft sound. It did not sound like the language of the north.

This means Alaric can take any name. He meant this, of course, by marriage.

A joking smile curved his features.

If the storyteller man met Kannoyak’s sister and were married, Alaric would be Sura, too.

The white wolf gave a rumbling chuckle. He had no doubts that his siblings would find Alaric’s dark fur to be spellbinding. Black wolves were not common in the northern hunting grounds.

Amalia was fascinated by Willow trees. Alaric liked them, but not near as much as she did. Their pretty and elegant, but they could also be troublesome.

Alaric nodded. Yes it does. He smiled then and shifted. The next words surprised him, but he chuckled. 

If Amalia wants you and you want her I have no objection. Though be reminded she can be exuberant and playful.

He chuckled then and nudged him with kindness.