Shy Deer Steppes the darkness was over the face of infinite space

it was the meadow which had her first. she was coaxed from the lowlands, tempted, and strayed far from the path. the girl would pause when indecision struck; loosing a prayer to the clouds for want of the sun, she would wait beneath them until a path was granted to her. as the holy light spilled down upon the surface of her world, a small smile betrayed her mirth; she lifted from a bowed point of reverie among the reeds and sought that light.

eventually the holy path was swallowed again by clouds, but by then the green meadow had turned to rock. the melting snow across the plains seemed not to have touched this dry place; the world here was dying or dead, the soil a red-gold like her own body. yes, this was where the light would take her -- it surprised her not, but pleased her very much. the land here was like an extension of herself. here, she would be at peace.

but this was not the reason for her quest. knowing this, hosannah was keen on moving forward -- though the instant adoration for this dusty atmosphere was unabated.

Exploration of the Steppes usually brought him very little, but today he caught the scent of another wolf nearby. It intrigued Cicero that others would come here — was she a scout, like he, or were there other reasons for her appearance here? Cicero fell into step to follow her trail, until he saw the other wolf in the distance, walking through the barren lands as though she had a purpose, a place to go within these barren steppes.

Cicero chuffed in greeting as he approached from behind, quickening his pace to catch up. "What would a wolf do in a barren place like this?" he queried, a thin smile lining his otherwisely neutral face as he fell in step alongside the female. He was curious, particularly because the Steppes were so near Blackfeather Woods, and he liked to keep count of the wolves that passed so close to home.

this looked lonely (:

she was not alone for long - if ever, she had her god, but this mortal man was more concrete - and his utterance made her give pause. when she turned to regard the figure that slunk behind her, hosannah felt no fear. he was but a lamb, and his question was neither out of place nor unwelcome. commune, she breathed the word, and a smile spread across her sharp features. it is not so barren here. to her, this place was a great reaching temple -- the sun was the master here, and she had never felt so close to it before. she felt a spiritual connection to her lord in this place, and that was what made her linger so.

what brings you? she asked of him, curious in her attention yet magnanimous in her bearing. with a slight bow of her head, a twist of her step, she was closer to him, studying his face. have you been called by the lord?

Commune. Cicero wondered what, precisely, she meant by that word, and he was instantly intrigued by her and the situation. Cicero realised he ought to go out and about more often — other wolves interested him, and the more he met, the more his fear for the white wolf flowed away. Her next words were laced with more mystery. When he looked around, he saw barren lands, but the wolf in front of him saw more to it. Potential, perhaps. Or simply a place to commune with... Whatever she was communing with. Or perhaps she meant communing with Cicero.

So many answers that only drew in more questions; just the way he liked it. A smile to mirror hers spread across his narrow face. He knew nothing of a lord, but he was interested to find out. And so, like her, he countered her question with mystery: "Perhaps." Cicero glanced about the barren lands before looking back at the female. "What does the lord say to the wolf?" He meant her, of course, but had no name to call her yet, and so she would simply be 'the wolf', as many before her.

his method of speech was odd, but not odd enough for her to be distracted. if anything, the way he spoke was right. the lord and the wolf. they were nameless things to the daystar, but important nonetheless. her face holds a smile for a heartbeat, but she turns from him and becomes obscured. in truth, i hear very little. but the lord shows me. i follow the light, hosannah speaks with great care and confidence, and glances at the boy for a moment, then sweeps her snout towards their surroundings. His light, and good things follow. this place was filled with the light of the coming spring; it was not touched by snow, and the plateaus leading up to the lion's head - though it was unexplored thus far by hosannah - served as a natural throne for her beloved deity. she turned to him again, fixing him with a curious expression. the light shows the way, the wolf follows.

It intrigued Cicero that she spoke in the same way as he, referring to herself as'the wolf'. He did not realise that the way she spoke was of a general wolf and not specifically of herself. Cicero looked at her with great interest as she spoke, and he wondered who this lord was. Perhaps the same as the Woods' gods; as Mephala.

"It is good to have someone look over one's shoulder with a warm well-willing hand placed upon one's shoulder," said Cicero. He was eager to hear more but was not sure what direction to look into, so he said: "Does your lord have a name? Tell Cicero more. " And he settled on the ground to listen to what she had to say.

though the boy is young, he is wise. his words show this, and for the first time hosannah feels there is truth to her calling. that this place may be the home for her. this stranger has a willingness to learn of the truth, something that had not occurred - and would not occur - for some time in her travels. as he settled to listen, the girl envisioned herself as a priest: her bearing changed to suit this, assuming a role that, in her faith and among her people, was reserved for a man of faith. 

He has many names. we call Him the daystar for he guides us always; in times of trouble he is the smiter, and in desperation the faithful call out to the deathless one. hosannah held a great respect for these names, and they fell almost as whispers from her lips. but these were not the lord's most holy name - the true name - and although she desired to impart that knowledge, it was not her place. i tempt His will by telling you this, outsider. and so she watched the sun, her eyes tracing the shine of the light across the distant horizon, the dust that lingered near, and fell in to a momentary disquiet while giving a soundless prayer.

when she returned to the moment, eyes open and attention seeking the boy, she was once again smiling. i would say more, but He forbids it. unless... at this, hosannah looks pensive, and steps closer to him, nestling against him as he sits. if you throw your heathen bonds aside... if he were to convert, she could share her world with him.

Cicero was interested to hear all that she told him, guzzling up the information piece by piece. The way she spoke of this lord and the way she turned to the skies, to the sun, when she told Cicero of her lord, it was not hard to know that he was a god of some sort. Like Mephala. He wondered what sort of things there were to learn from her, but Cicero's belief in this lord was flawed (as was, in ways, his belief in Mephala; he wanted to believe, ever the dreamer and philosopher, but the analytic part of him wondered if there was really any gods out there, this lord or his own). He had no proof, after all, and proof was needed before throwing your life around like that.

Idly he wondered about what had happened with the white wolf and if this lord could provide any sort of salvation. He did not ask for it, however, knowing it unwise to change his life like that.

He was curious, though, and so Cicero said, a small smile twitching at his lips, "Cicero has no proof of this lord's greatness. What is in it for Cicero? His pack has his own beliefs, bonded to Cicero in ways that do not allow for simple tearing." Imagine if he came home saying he had changed to some unknown lord and saviour, leaving Mephala behind. The thought was laughable.

she was not phased by his admittance; the wolves here were heathens, and she was placed here for the very purpose of cleansing their evils. it does surprise her that he would ask such a question — what was in it for him? the mercy and love of the true lord. the protection granted by fealty to Him, the lord of the light, and master of all. you need further proof? her tone is light, but serious. almost incredulous. and she turns to face the sun again, this time more stern and drifting, mentally, from him. do you not see the light? feel the warmth? but she turns to regard him wholly again a moment later. what has your god given you that is true, that is real? the daystar grants me everything i need. i am thankful for His grace. if this boy was born of the shadows, they would be difficult to purge from him without the attentions of a priest — and she was no priest, despite her teachings.

The warmth was not where Cicero was destined to bathe in, he knew. Yet he was interested in obtaining some form of love and warmth from above that Mephala did not offer. It had started as interest only for the sake of gathering information but now he was starting to wonder if maybe there was more. Mephala at least gave him the pain he so coveted, though. He did not want to lose that.

"Yes. What proof is there that he created the sun that warms us? May Cicero ask what the wolf intends to do for his Daystar here, except speak of him?" He paused a little around'the wolf', hoping it hint enough to find out her real name from her.

tacking on an ending quick! if you'd rather i remove the ending bit and we continue, let me know and i'll get it put back in the steppes. 

laughter, keen and bright, bubbles out of her - it is the first time, and perhaps the only time, that such a moment will occur for hosannah in this place. the boy is ignorant but the questions amuse her greatly. He did not create the sun, he is -- the light, the warmth, that which governs all of creation! and oh, it was like being back among her peers, studying beneath the nobles within the priesthood. such an obsolete line of questioning in her world, now. except the heathen boy is quick and smart, too - he asks a more pertinent question, and her laughter fades. happily, hosannah sighs and states, hosannah, i am hosannah. and she is here to spread His influence - i will find more like you, and teach them. bring them to the faith. in the long-run she hoped to bring the priesthood to the wilds in some manner, but so far she had no plan as to how; He would show her when the time was fitting.

with his questions answered - even if such answers were vague - it was clear that the strange boy had no interest in her faith. this was alright; he was pleasant company, and served to illuminate hosannah's view of this place. it would be harder than this to convince established adults. this boy had been a test, and she did not believe she had failed. they parted amicably enough, and the woman was on her way.