Emberwood right here is where my friends they used to live

Open to anybody (:

The days grew shorter, the night colder. Where was he? Where was mother? Father? His sisters? The warm den he remembered? Huger clawed at the Sveijarn's stomach; his mind delirious; body exhausted.

He had followed Tuwawi's tracks the night she had silently left the den, the mother unaware her eldest absconded into the night. It wasn't long before the young boy had become hopelessly lost, meandering far from Duskfire's borders. Without a guardian to care for him, Valtýr quickly withered. His large paws and ears juxtaposed a frail and skeletal body, sooty pelt limp and dull. The baleful moon cast a wary eye upon the weak traveler, who found comfort in a crook between the roots of a large and barren maple. The biting cold netteled his knobby joints as he tucked his brackish muzzle beneath one leg in preparation for the last lonely night.

I read the SOS. ◆Insert super hero music◆

Lucius had been allowed to stay with the pack of OS, and immediately had set upon his duties. With brisk and fully measured steps, past the border lines, and pay other territories, though he ensured that he stayed well out of them.
What was that?
That scent?

Through the night, the charcoal and ivory layered roman kept his pace steady, and made a beeline toward the scent.
A pup. Not a loner. Born of this place. But not in his place. Away from home. And near something that had been a friend to the Mortis.
Death.

"You there, are you..?..."

Screw it.
The man kept his bright eyes on the lands surrounding the duo, searching a bit for a small pretty animal, quickly finding a fattened hare. Ending is life, Lucius took the still warm corpse to the brown heap on the ground.

"Eat,..Live."

Yay :'-D also... I frickin love Thomas Brodie-Sangstere

Valtýr blood seeped like tar through his veins as heavy lids drooped wearily, lulled into slumber by the Reaper who threatened to sever him from the living realm. However, the voice of a stranger pulled the youth back to reality, though the child still teetered perilously between this world and the next.

"You there, are you..?..." the other called. Dim bronze eyes peered behind limbo's veil to look, but not truly see, into the night. November's moonlight highlighted only the cerulean blue of the vagrant's phantom gaze, and it caused the boy to shrink and cower beneath the man's watch. His jaw clench, stomach twisting. Small remnants of instinct told him to hide, but his body would not -- could not -- comply. His only recourse was to remained bundle between the roots like a newborn fawn.

It wasn't long before the sylph drew forth with prey, dropping a hare before the firstborn Sveijarn; a compassionate gesture by any measure. However, starvation had weaned his appetite and the smell of blood almost made Valtýr retch. "Eat,..Live," was the command. His heavy skull weakly reached out towards the prey, but he felt no hunger. Confused by his body's refusal, large tears began to pool down the youth's sooty cheeks. He looked towards the man with a disoriented and wanting gaze. "My Mom," was all he could croak; fighting sobs -- for crying physically hurt.

◆I first discovered him in Nanny McPhee, and I was jealous of his acting skills. But Will chose him as Luc 's counter part☆ ◆



The roman looked down at the pathetic wad of bones and feverishly fire pelted pup. The whelp looked no could not be more older than 4 to 5 months, and seemed to be on the very thread of death. Being raised in the lands that he was, the man could feel no sense of sorrow, of sympathy, anything that could get him to help the pup. The weak were seen as a downfall of the pack, and were immediately shaped in the opposite fashion.
Luc could not issue a command in such a place, and decided against delivering the typical death blow to the pup.

He saw the boy give a full yet sickeningly failing attempt to obey the command, and at last, the Romans heart cracked a bit.
Lucius may have been raised by a merciless father, honed to be an instrument of death, but he paused such for the situation.
The young spoke.

'My Mom', the strangled words almost seemed to make their way to their own grave, coming out so pitifully.
So he had to find his mom, Eh?

"So be it. Point me to your home lands direction, ... and you will be reunited worth your mother, child. "

Cerulean orbs fastened themselves to the dying light in the sobbing boy's eyes. The tears flowed, riveting down the flame frosted face of the youth.

Valtýr could feel the roman's hard stare upon him. His agouti hair prickled in apprehension, cheeks whetted by overflowing emotions. It matter not that this stranger could potentially be a foe; all Val cared about was that he had company for the first time in weeks. He'd be dammed to part from another of his breed again.

And so, when Lucius lumbered the question, "So be it. Point me to your home lands direction, ... and you will be reunited worth your mother, child, " Val deigned to speak even though he did not know which way the glacier slumbered. Hopelessly lost, but desperate not to loose the only tie he had, the child cooked up ideas. Bronze eyes flittered this way and that as he sniffled, looking for any sign of familiarity in the dark winter wood. But there was not one footprint, sight, or scent he knew. A streak of panic wrenched is heart. He was afraid this wolf would leave him alone if he did not provide an answer. Even the child had realized his odds were not in his favor.

Like a broken compass, Valtýr's thin muzzle eventually pointed Southwest, gaze switching between the enigmatic man and the frozen emberwood. Anywhere would be better than here.

And so the land lie southwest.

With a solemn nod, the pelt contrated male looked down at the whelp, a new respect sparking in his vivid and usually harsh blue gaze.
This pup followed orders as well as he could, knowing his life was on the line.
Respect.

"Are you able to stand, or would you need assistance? I do not mind carrying you, but strength must return to your limbs part way through the trip."

In truth, the roman desired to teach the youth to be able to be strong while he was weak, to carry on until the last dying breath left his lungs, but Lucius remembered that this pup was not from his own homelands, the rule of a tyrant who only lived for himself, feeding off of the brutalities of others.
This pup was free of such torment. Of such a horrid past.

Lucius knew fully well he could carry the pup until his neck snapped, and it was against the will of Mercury for him to let the pup starve to death, so whether the chocolate hued child could or not, Luc was willing to assist the pup all the way there.

If Lucius, in the end, could drop him near BDP that'd be great :o

His bony figure was sluggish, spirit heavy. Yet, when Lucius agreed to escort the waif a new fire stirred in Valtýr's heart. He had little concept of death, unaware how close he had come to an eternal slumber, but the weight of his emaciated condition was enough for the firstborn to comprehend that his mortal coil was frail and weak.

He blinked at Lucius. Though the male's even tone was compassionate, it lacked the soft touch of a mother or father. Perhaps this is what the softhearted needed, for in that instant his broad vermilion paws found their footing and pushed his skeletal body into a slumped seated position. Valtýr had always been a gentle soul, but now an urgency boiled in his gut and he understood what the older man conveyed. But was he strong enough?

Indifference no longer dulled the Sveijarn's gaze. Instead, determination sparkled, though a huff revealed the effort. "I-I can walk," the boy murmured weakly, uncertain by the statement but no less willing to try. He eyed the rabbit, but again his belly flip-flopped, its glaucous stare eyeing him viciously. "Mom usually takes it apart for me," he told the man, more or less unaware he had been coddled.

◆oh yea, not a prob. Cant have little Val wandering the woods alone, now. Id cry. ◆



This pup continued to surprise him, whether good or bad. At the sound of the pups small and almost unheard past of having his food sliced up for him, a series of sharp barks errupted from Luc ' s maw.
Cute.

Bending down, the roman tore off 3 evenly ripped layers from the rabbit, the carcass being divided into a trio of precisely measured thick slabs of tastey muscle.
Another 3 came from each 3, and so on and so forth until the weakling had several heaps of stringy meat before his wobbly paws.

"You caught me on a good day, kid. Trust me on that."

Another bark of laughter came from the char and ivory modeled man, though it was a bit softer.
Unexpected change in him.
He would have to fix that soon.

"Finish your meal, swiftly. I do wish you back into the comfort and safety of your family.
And also, after you finish your meal, tell me your name, pup."

Valtýr was lucky the roman was so accommodating, though the child couldn't understand why the man suddenly erupted into laughter. Had he said something funny? The firstborn looked away, abashed that he had expected the stranger to treat him like his parents. But he was famished, and his tummy gave a hungry rumbling when Lucius complied.

The adult made quick work of the small prey, dividing it neatly for his new ward. "You caught me on a good day, kid. Trust me on that," he chided impishly. Valtýr watched with an intense gaze before digging into the meal, appetite renewed now that the hare wasn't staring him down. He filled his mouth and chewed ravenously, delighted eyes darting up towards his savior with gratitude.

Valtýr ate what he could, which was much less than usual, and satisfactorily licked his chops. "I'm Valtýr," he told Lucius, momentarily forgetting his uncertainty about their direction. His ears orbited, curious about his company's identity, but could not deign himself to ask. The boy stood, a bit unsteady but refueled, in anticipation of their journey.

Lending a thickly boned snout, the hessian kept it to the shoulder of the youth, hoping to steady his wobble. 
"Valtýr,...why do I feel as though I've heard of your existence, before?...Hmm."

Gazing down at the warm pelted boy, Lucius contemplated his origin, soon giving up through lack of patience for such deep thought.

"I am Lucius. ", he stated simply, not finding any need in giving the whelp, though he was warming up to the little wolf, anymore info than necessary. 
After watching him a second longer that deemed mandatory, the roman looked off to the southwest, and began taking strides in that direction. 

"How did you venture so vigorously far from your home, Valtýr? Have your parents no eyes on you?"

The bi colored male didn't mind prodding, for being asked a question meant recieving an answer, whther satisfactory or not. 
He didn't know whether this pup thought the same way or not, so he did not mind if only silence was his answer.

Valtýr offered a sheepish grin and small tail wag as the older male helped steady his balance with a firm touch. 'Valtýr,...why do I feel as though I've heard of your existence, before?...Hmm,' the other mused rhetorically. It had never dawned on the Sveijarn that specific information might have helped Lucius guide him home; such as that he lived near a glacier, or that his parents were Njal and Tuwawi - alphas of the northern mountain. He was but a naive child.

The roman introduced himself as Lucius, and the youth committed the name to memory. "I don't know," Valtýr murmured with a shoulder roll, wondering how things had gotten so bad. In light of the situation, the pup had submitted to a coping mechanism; numbing his memory to survive the horrors of the day. Starvation was enough to consume his daily thoughts. However now, with a paunch belly, the lanky cur could reflect upon his family's tragedy. "There was a big lynx," he told Lucius. Mother and Father had described the predator in great detail, but nothing could prepare their son for the horrifying encounter. "He took my brother." Black lips creased into an unbecoming frown. "Everybody was yelling... looking for him. Mom said dad left to get him back... But Jokull decided to look too. Mom had to leave the den to look forher. I followed my mom and... then... I couldn't find her." The fact was that Tuwawi had been darted, crated, and shipped off to the Chinook Territory by humans.

A moment of silence passed before Valtýr's deep, bronze gaze drifted upwards to better observe his life-giver. The Spine wolf, although but a yearling, clearly read as adult to the child. His masculine skull was well chiseled, maw broad but not coarse. Charcoal and silver hair mirror his father's pelt, albeit darker in shade, but his chest was marred by a crooked scar. His mother, Tuwaw had a similar mark upon her face. "My mom has one of those," he informed Lucius, gesturing to his exposed skin; though Val was unaware by what violent means one received such a mark.

"Lynxs are fierce little cats, and I can believe they may prove a difficult fight for pups. "

The roman didn't add that there was no way a pup could survive the claws, teeth, and savagery of such vivacious animals, and unless trained in the arts of death dealing, it was remarkably difficult. Continuing on the stride of comfortable pace fore the injured pup, the Angelus Mortis gave the youth a lightly curious gaze, all while keeping the passing sights in his peripheral.

As he approached the subject of silence, it was inturrupted by the soft noticings of Valtýr, the observations of the trophy the bi-pelted man displayed proudly on his chest. A trophy of battle, it was. One he rightly earned. If Valtýr's mother recieved such a marking, surely, Minerva was showing favor upon the female.

"Your mother must be a very brave and respectable woman then. Gratitude may be a decent homage to her courage."

Longer and longer the duo traveled, and following the brisk patterns of the wind, the wind ruffle the roman, attempting to freeze him where he stood, but his pelt and tempered training caused him to be unbuffeted by Natures chilling attempt. Focusing on the faint scent from the earth pelted Valtýr, the man navigated the scents left by old walkers of the same path they took.

In the long journey, Lucius pondered over the situation the youth described to him, imagining the instances where such could happen. Sudden trail lost. Sudden trail lost. Sounded like a kidnapping.

Val listened closely to his senior's words, but was a bit rattled when Lucius remarked that lynxes could prove a difficult fight for pups. Had he been supposed to fight the cat? Was it because of his own inability that Larus was taken? The memory reeled in his eye like an old film stuck on repeat. The grotesquely short muzzle filled with dagger for fangs, its large and leering yellow eyes with slits for pupils, and the curved talons it used to rake his father's haunch. Fear had incapacitated the Sveijarn brood when the attack happened -- not one pup could guard their brother from the persistent feline. Even the bold Jokull had pressed herself to the earth in shock. Valtýr pursed his lips pensively, unaware that Lucius had phrased his words to lighten an utterly hopeless plight. Truly, the children were lucky that thy all hadn't been slaughtered.

Yet, the words put a heavy responsibility on Val's shoulder; a burden was not present before. He was the oldest and father often jested about the duties that came with the title. Yet, before Val could go too far down the rabbit hole, Lucius talked about his mother.

He freely complemented her, and it brought a swell of pride to the boy's dark spirit. Maybe those of the highest standards were born with such marks? Or maybe they were gifted them later in life? His father had some too... across the temple and shoulder. That meant they were special wolves. Val's bronze eyes glimpsed as his own shoulder and paws... no marks yet... but had hadn't done anything noteworthy in life, had he? Again the truth eluded him. The reality was far more gruesome. A cougar invasion in Tartok and Swiftcurrent, the later which almost claimed his sire's life.

The child smiled at Lucius, but a gust of wind sent him crumpling to the ground. His paws were sore, toes numb. "I'm cold," he said, teeth chattering. How much farther was home?

How was the whelp born of these lands, If unable to bear them?
Or was he not born of these lands?
Adopted?

With the whoosh of strong wind, the frosty breath of winter made itself present, along with the face of high chiseled blocks of ice ahead. Pines were spaced apart, and the roman figured this was the place.
The scent. It was faint, diminishing in the wind, but there, nevertheless.
A pack.

"We are upon your home. A few more paces will bring you to borders. "

Cerulean irises found watery coppers, and another wave of strange feelings shook the lupine.
What in Jupiter's name was wrong with him?

"Fluff your fur, Valtýr. Give yourself a good shake, and the heat will insulate between the both of you. "

Was it the Gods will that the pup recieved kindness from a man who knew none?

Valtýr's heritage was mixed. His dam, the small and fiery Tuwawi, hailed from the southern flatlands where the winters were mild and the sun shined often. However, she had fallen in love with the Northern Njal, who thick accent, pale fur, and sturdy figure lend itself well for harsh and frigid terrain. In time, she had come to love the untamed polar landscape and its mountains which were familiar to her husband, and together they moved from Swiftcurrent to Duskfire to raise their young. However some of their children, Valtýr especially, appeared summer-born. His lean body and short sandy-colored pelt had a difficult time adjusting to the cold. The boy often spent his days huddled with his siblings while the adults searched and raised their new home.

The trials Duskfire faced meant there was little time to educate the pack's young on the ways of life. Simple tips, like the one Lucius offered, were new to the youth. Mother would have stopped to rest and warm her child, but the Roman was adamant. Val wanted so badly to whine or cry (Larus was usually the one who griped) but he merely pouted and followed the adult's recommendatio to give his body a vigorous shake. Though his joints ached and his ears felt frosbitten, a nice blanket of warm air coated his skin. It did feel a bit better, Val thought.

But the shake did not warm him nearly as much as Lucius' next words. Almost there. Oh to be back in the warm, SVeijarn den... it would be perfect. In his excitement, the child had nearly forgotten he had no idea where Duskfire was in the first place... which was probably for the better. "Where are you from?" the boy asked, wondering from what region the do-gooder hailed.

The pup looked sad until he had mentioned his home pack was not too far away. Excitement seemed to light the small boys face, causing him the glee of asking a question the Lucius had no problem with answering.

"I come from the Imperium Romanum. Or, Roman Empire, in this lands tongue. A vast land, a place where soldiers are made, broken, and made anew. A hard life, but a rewarding one. "

Within minutes, the border was evident in the snowland. The smell, though covered by wind and dilluted through the cold, was still there.
They had made it.

"We have arrived to your home, little Valtýr. I do hope you eat, sleep, and continue the life that you were destined for. "

The bi pelted yearling sat on his haunches, gazing across the chocolate hued child.
Would he miss him?

Last post for me! So sad to leave :( they must reunite someday!

"Soldiers..." Val muttered under his breath, the word both enigmatic and new to the Sveijarn who had not yet spent much time on earth. He wondered how different Lucius' home was compared to Duskfire; how much harder life had been for the Romans compared to the glacial pace.

How his reveries were cut short by the sudden halt of his company. Lucius informed the boy they had arrived though the wood still looked foreign to him. Valtýr was not yet skilled in many things wolf, especially understand borders and scent markings. After all, he had not traveled far from the den because of his parents' orders.

The child gave a small, albeit hesitant, nod of understanding and looked into the night. He would have to continue by himself from here on out. Mommy and Daddy wouldn't like a strange wolf in their home... even if he had saved the Sveijarn from certain death. Big, brown puppydog eyes looked back to Lucius -- to the wolf who had done so much more than the pup could realize. The man offered a few eloquent words of encouragement but Val could only think to mutter, "t-thanks," in response before waking with a nervous and stilted gait into the unfamiliar kingdom.

◆im gonna cry if they dont. Last post from me. Good thread, Lieu. Keep it up. ☆◆



The roman kept his cerulean gaze upon the wood sheathed boy who looked more of a resemblance of a wolfess he had met quite a while ago in his travels. Pretty female. Warm hearted. Soft.
Perhaps that was why she was kicked from her family.
Yet, this land had multiple ethics, and whether this pup was of such would elude him, for this was his goodbye to the child.

"I wish well for you and your family. Perhaps I will see you again, and perhaps that day will be one we may spend better together, young Val. Farewell."

And with that, the yearling turned sharply on his hinds, and returned from the way whence he came, through the cold, and home.