Bonesplinter Ravine ScoobyNatural

"Hello?" Helllooooo? Bouncing back and forth between the jagged edges of the Bonesplinter Ravine, Epic wondered why exactly he came to this place. It was like a faulty, over-the-top haunted house only then much worse. Scattered across the barren territory were the bones of creatures long gone. With each step his heart skipped a beat as his golden eyes looked fearful at his surroundings. He might have been easily spooked but in a place with so many dead bodies it wasn't that hard to let his imagination running wild.

After all, most of the scents of other wanderers had faded with time and all that was left were the remainders of bodies that once breathed air like him. "You're not a talkative fellow, are you?" Staring at a large skull who was whithered away with the dawn of time, all Epic could make of it was that it was the head of a large prey animal. Or maybe, just perhaps, it was a wolf? A merciless cold shiver ran down his spine at the mere thought. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" He said once more to the skull. 

And slowly, he began to think his sanity was slipping away. After all, who dared to speak to the death? Or ..what was left of this creature once anyway.

I loved that episode of "Supernatural". That got me into watching the series.

Wraen would have passed the "elephant graveyard" had it not been for a very clear and loud "hello", which echoed in the surroundings and reached her ears. She stopped in her tracks, listened carefully and then changed her initial trajectory to find out, who the caller had been and whether he was in a trouble that he needed to be rescued from. 

It did not take long for her to catch sight of a fellow, who was talking to a skull, and, since she was not a person, who deemed other people scary just because they wanted to have an intelligent conversation with inanimate beings, she watched him a little longer in an amused silence. "Be careful - the last time I met a talking skull was, when I found a very angry weasel underneath. Were it not for my quick feet, it would have devoured me whole," she told him from her spot. Nynka - the little white devil - would have been proud to be praised like this. Wherever she was.

Really? Yeah I love the show! Best wishes for 2019 ^_^

Luckily Epic wasn't a wolf who talked to inanimate objects usually. However here at Bonesplinter Ravine there was something very spooky when the silence lingered, as if there was something or someone staring at him. Or maybe even several supernatural beings. Although not one to quickly believe these things, he couldn't help but to feel shivers running down his spine. And who could blame the yearling boy? There were a lot of remainants of dead creatures; creatures who had once been alive, breathing the same air as he did. His own voice somehow gave him comfort in a sense.

A sense of relief washed over his face when the voice of another wolf shattered the silence. His eyes glanced in her direction and he listened to her story. After she was finished, he raised a confident eyebrow and added a soft smile. "Well, that weasel was a lucky idiot." Epic said, turning her tale around. "Had the angry creature not been so spooky, you'd turn around and devoured it whole instead." Or was there more to her story? Either way, he looked to his left. Nothing. And then right. Nothing, nada, niente. "Luckily I haven't seen any monsters yet! What do think happened here?"

Wraen smiled, just imagining, what would happen, if anyone dared to declare Nynka an idiot. She was crazy and brilliant, and more crazy all in mixed in the same pot. That weasel believed it could take the world and make it bow before it's feet and with it's will-power and inflated sense of ego, her supposed wolf-friend was pretty sure that she would succeed.

"Some weasels are too interesting to eat," she grinned. "She was a rare gem." Asked to give her opinion on, why there were so many bones here, she looked around and shrugged: "My take would be that either this was Valhalla here, before it moved elsewhere. Or someone had had it's paws on Cornucopia and had a gigantic feast. But probably there is far more boring and tragic cause to this, I think."

It truly was like a pet animal cemetary; luckily not the one like Steven King's version where these animals came back from the death while being evil 'n all. For a few seconds he looked around from left to right, carefully analyzing the situation while seeing nothing but bones and remainders of creatures that once were alive and well. A sad sigh passed from his leathery lips as he realized what sort of tragedy took place here. "Could it be like a gigantic flood, fire or other disaster of nature that made these creatures die, here, all at once?"

Turning back to Wrean, he intently listened to all her words with a gleeful smile. The comment about the weasel made him chuckle. "Is that so? I bet you have experienced some adventures and nice moment with that weasel, no?" The yearling would ask further but his attention span was short-lived and already he tumbled on other words. "Val-wutttt?" His heart was suddenly filled with a newfound curiosity. "Corny Cornu-cup? Idontknowwhatthatis." Oh, how stories captured his heart and painted the edges of his imagination.

"Maybe, it is difficult to tell, because most of these bones are quite old," Wraen would not have minded them being young, fresh and covered with meat. Then she laughed, as the guy struggled to spell out the name of cornucopia, and finally felt pity for his poor brain and offered a simple term instead: "Horn of plenty. Legend says that, if you have it, it gives you all kinds of foods. Everything you wish."

"Valhalla is a type of Heaven for Norse warriors. When they die - preferably on the battle-field - then their souls are guided by valkyries to this place, where they can fight all day long, in the evening they all heal and feast all night long. A perpetual circle, but it would produce a lot of bones," Wraen mused and just as she had fallen silent and ominous sounding, panic-stricken, high-pitched screech was approaching them at great speed from the sky and was cut short, when the source - a rat - hit the ground and remained lying there in a pool of it's own blood.

Wraen looked up to the high cliffs above, then down to the victim and then to the guy: "Well, I guess we just solved the mystery."

Sometimes his imagination ran too wild, it was a trait that was inherited from his childhood. His childhood, yes, that was slowly fading away as he aged into maturity. But even still, as a yearling he had a lot to grasp and learn about what it meant to turn into an adult; at the moment he was in the twilight zone, no longer a boy but not yet a man. So his eyes shimmered with enthousiasm and his heart skipped a beat when Wrean began to speak of tell tales, of adventures, of legends and myths. He loved those and he could listen to stories for many nights.

"So that horn of plenty, where can I find it?" It sounded like winning the lottery, a lone wolf's dream to feast every night when he could. Never being hungry again, thriving well without balancing on the line of having enough food or starting to death. Of course he was also interested in the Norse myths about brave warriors -- especially since he wanted to become one, maybe one day. However, he let the topic stray from a moment because his next question already popped up. What were these valkyrie creatures she spoke of?

Having just met Wraen, it was one of the few wolves he grew to like. So far he had met crazy sea wolves, wolves with ill-intentions, wolves that replied his words with a strange silence and those who didn't trust him at all. Aside from Amsu, Wrean was the only wolf who offered kindness and stories. A combination that filled his heart with glee. "Thank-you. Thank-you for being nice and full of stories." Epic said with a genuine smile, having forgotten all about the bony situation for a moment or two. A moment that was filled with appreciation.

"I guess, you do not want it then," Wraen beckoned to the dead rat, when the guy had made no move towards it and did not seem to have noticed it either. She swept it up and after few chews gobbled it down, letting her stomach do the rest of the work. 

When she had finished, she could answer to his earlier inquiry. "Oh, that's easy, peasy, really. You have to find a river god, fight it, win it, break off one of it's horns and - voila! - you will have your Cornucopia," she grinned. "It has happened twice in the history, so not quite impossble," she added, referring to Zeus and his son Heracle, who both had successed at the deed.

"Alright then - in that case you won't mind paying a little price for my generosity," Wraen replied. "What's your name and your story?"

When it came down to stories the male was captured and captivated, drifting away from the borders of reality if only for a moment or two. He was completely unaware of his surroundings, not even when a snack-a-rat passed by. Letting the opportunity slip by for a bite, he lifted an eyebrow when he drifted back to reality. "Oh..ooohwww. Hope it tasted gooooood." Truthfully his mouth filled with water for a second, his stumach grumbled and protested; however he was glad she enjoyed it. If his stumach had eyes, they might have kicked and punched to stir him back to reality earlier on.

"I'll plan it for next week then, to get the horn of plenty MUCH MORE." He stated overly proud while refusing to use the difficult c-word with the same meaning. In fact, stubbornly he added. "This week I'll be busy slaying two dragons, stealing a treasure andddd learning how to fly." Ah, if only that was true; if only wolves could be superheroes, no? "So - where do I start on this horn of eating-until-I-am-stuffed quest?"

However when she wanted to know who he was and what his story was, he bit his lip uncertain while a tsunami of black-outs washed over him. His story? It had just started, right here, right now. He didn't know much of his past; it hurt him a lot although sometimes he had flashes and shards of what might be a part of his history. Most of the times he could laugh and joke it away. "I'm Epic, what is your story and name?" He said, hoping to divert attention and stories back to her. "I-I'm afraid I don't remember much of my past."

For the first time in a very long time someone had rendered Wraen speechless. She stared at the guy in disbelief of, what he had just said. Had she heard him correctly in the first place? Not imagined him listing all the "dragon slaying", "learning to fly", "finding treasure" on a to-do-stuff this week and getting the horn of plenty the rest? Because up until now she had sincerely believed that she was the only one, who liked to intertwine the cool stuff from the stories she knew into the web of reality that was not so awesome at times. And others had played along, usually with a roll of their eyes and a patient smile. Let the kid have fun, bear with the crazy.

And now there was this guy with a fitting name - Epic - who had beaten her to the mythic stuff and was very genuine about his intentions. Wow. Amazing. "Errr... Wraen with a long and complicated family name that I won't bother to burden your mind and many aliases," she said, trying to regain some points in the duel of, who was more cool. "And I have been in packs, I have been travelling on my own and I will probably join a group in time. That's the summary of it," she finished. "So, what has been your most recent heroic act? I believe that with a name like yours, the path of awesomeness was already put in your cradle."

Of course that wasn't what reality was like -- fighting dragons and learning how to fly -- but it was cool to think about all that cool stuff anyway.  And he wasn't alone, because lots of people went to superhero Marvel movies even though on a daily base they just that, ordinary people. And he was just that, an ordinary wolf. With big dreams and an even bigger imagination.  

"Why not, 'Ren?" Epic said, surprised she was not about to spin into her past. He lacked a past, or memories and it seemed she had too much of them. Oh, the irony. And Ren, that was how he would call her from now on. Yes. "I don't believe that is the summary of that. At least that might be the boring part. Where's the exciting part?" He raised an eyebrow, daring her gently to reveal more of her story. After all, there were many stories and tales, many made-up and unreal. But a life of everyone and anyone, each experience and every moment interwoven together; that was where the real stories were made. "I tried to catch some mice. And I tried to hide from thunderstorms. And I failed. Maybe my superhero name should be Epic failure!"

"Don't be hard on yourself. All heroes in Greek stories start out, when they are sturdy grown ups," Wraen said, not believing for one second that the guy could be a failure. There were equal amounts of wins and fails in people's life, the problem being that most assumed "wins" being as something obvious and focusing too much on "fails", when they happened. "Except for Hermes. He became a cunning thief and master of lies the mere moments after he was born," the story of this god's origin being one of her favourites. 

"My life's been long and you well grow old and wither away, if I tell you every single detail. But we can play a question game to make it easier for me and less time consuming for you," she offered. "You ask one and then it's my turn. Or ask a few and I will ask you a handful."

She knew a lot of stories and ..stories was something he definitely loved! Already Epic was trying to squeeze every tidbit of story out of her, as if was Netflix, instant watching everything he wanted. But that wasn't the case in real life; instead he had to be patient and eat one story at a time. "Oi that Hermes-dude totally sounds like a bad guy. What makes a hero out of him?" Epic could always try, right? Try to pry more information, more stories, more details; more of everything. He raised an eyebrow to her quizically and questioning. 

However, she had an even better idea. When his friend 'Ren offered an opportunity to get to know each other a little better on a playful way, Epic for once in his life remained a little quiet. Thoughtful he took his time while his mind crafted what he thought was the perfect question. "Alright ...my first question: How adventurious are you? How important is freedom and exploration for you?"

"He is a god - silly - he gets away with this kind of stuff," Wraen explained. "Gods for Greeks were not only great and virtuous (most times), but also deeply flawed. Basically you cannot be too awesome on one end of the spectrum without failing on the opposite side." Though often logic of Greek and Roman myths escaped her and amused her (the same way her author). And the parts, where supposedly good guys, heroes, really, changed their old wife for the new one, because they had been bored with the first, or - Theseus case - he had left the faithful Ariadne on the lone island and ran for the hills, while she had been sleeping, just because he had got bored with her (not to mention a promise to marry her and other sweet nothings) were especially hard for Wraen to digest. But that's probably because women rights did not exist as a species during that time.

"That's not exactly a question about my biography," Wraen pointed out, after she had briefly contemplated his questions. "At moderate dosages both of them," she settled for this reply. "What's the silliest thing you have ever done in your life? And answer - I do not remember - won't do," Epic was smarter than he let on.

No, but, no ..he opened up his muzzle although words didn't slide out easily, instead it remained quiet. He wanted to say his objections when she mentioned that his question wasn't related to her biography. On the contrary: his question was the sole reason -- or so he thought -- that they met. If there was no adventure in her heart, no thirst for exploration and an urge to see the world there was a chance they would have never met. A chance that she would end up in her birth pack, feeling safe and comfortable but ignoring the fact that there was more out there. His 'but' eventually died out when she voiced a question of her own; one that made him think for a moment or two. 

Epic remembered her comments about the Greek Gods and how they made fame and fortune in their tales by being imperfect. "Well there was this one time I was really scared of a big, bossy boar. He dominated the area and protected other juicy boards that I would want to eat for lunch, dinner or breakfast even. Trying to scare the boar away failed; hunter became the hunted. The only way I escaped was to pee. Pee everywhere to scare the boar away and show 'm who'se boss! However, the big boar chased me so I had to roll down in my pee, stinkin' like crazy. I think I've smelled of pee for days, maybe weeks even."

Epic wrickled his nose, hoping that he didn't smell like pee right now. For a few seconds he made a dirty facial expression while his tongue stuck out. Not being very original, but liking her question nonetheless, he added. "I hope I don't smell like pee right now. It was yuck, yuck, yuck. I think your question is too good not to fire back; spill the beans, what's the silliest thing you have ever done?"

"Well, I am definitely not hugging you," Wraen feigned disgust and took a step away from Epic, but then burst out laughing. After all he could have done a lot worse and chosen to become a poop monster. Perhaps, then the boar would have had second thoughts about chasing down the stinky wolf.

"I am spotless and perfect," she replied, straightening herself up proudly and lifting one of her forepaws for a better effect. "Though there was this one nearly fatal encounter with a cougar, when me and my then friend Liffey decided that it was a good idea to scare him out of the pack's territory. He was leaving his stinky marks everywhere. Ugh..." she said.

"It was not fun and I do not recommend you to ever take the cat single-handedly. Or three-handedly as it was in our case. Those bastards are very difficult to kill," she finished. "What do you want to achieve in life?" she asked then.

Just maybe if he knew her a little better he would have made an attempt to hug her while making jokes about the dirty story; perhaps it was a moment saved for later on. He was about to make a funny comment about her straight-and-perfect-looks but then he was taken aback when she trucked on, talking about her life being in danger. 

His facial expression turned into a serious one as he listened with his teeth gritted tightly together. Stupid cats. He hated them. Although he would probably turn into a pussy if he ever met one. "Wow, what a story! I'm glad you're okay now. Stupid kitten. I'm glad the story ended well. If I'd meet a cougar I would walk around it in a big circle. Like mountain-sized big." He might have heroic ambitions and silly one's at that, but he wasn't entirely stupid. At least not stupid enough to take on a cougar on his own. 

And what were his own ambitions? The sky was the limit right? "I-I want to be a hero! Maybe one like one of those Greek gods you described." Epic said with a buzz of excitement.

Although Epic didn't know this, he was secretly trying to live up to the adventurous tales of his grandfather Chetan. (The same one that was mated to Wrean's grandmother March Owl. Only that love story ended before puppies ever arrived). And one thing Epic had to learn: he needed not to try and be someone else, instead Epic had to learn to live his own tale and not that that of another.

"So, what is the greatest lesson life has taught you so far?" Epic said after a moment of being lost in thoughts. With a clear and interesting expression he looked back at Wrean.

"That way you will live a very long and happy life unless you meet a different stupid or tragic fate," Wraen concluded the "kitten" talk, not particularly liking the memory, because she had been there anything but smart. And for a wolf, who prided herself in intelligence, this was a rather unpleasant subject. Good thing, of course, she could tell this story as a warning to any future hot-heads, who might want to spar with the big cats.

"Oh, that's exciting. There are plenty to choose from!" she definitely enjoyed, what had resurfaced next in their conversation. "We could pick out one, which you like best or which suits you the best," she added, already making a list of deities and heroes that could act in Epic's favour. "I mean, my grandfather's ancestors used to choose, which god they wanted to appease and to act as their guardian and guide. I don't see a reason, why this should not be your case either."

But before they got to the fun part - another question - and incidentally another deep-dive. She did not have to look far for it, the lesson being fairly recent, but yet again not something she felt proud of. "As tempting as it sounds and feels you should never speak out, when emotions run high. Even if you win the argument, the prize is damaged relationships with people that matter. It's just not worth it," she said.

The young male was humble and shy; he didn't like a life in the spotlights and being the centre of everyone's attention. Instead he enjoyed the simple life. But that was also his downfall because heroes enjoyed the spotlights, otherwise there were no heroic tales and adventurous moments. Otherwise a story was just that, a recollection of moments and experiences. He was quite contradictionary in his Epic quest to become who he was supposed to be. Whoever that was. 

"Hmm, who do you think fits me best, then?" Epic questioned the story-driven Rennie whose heart and head was filled with many tales. Everyone of them he wished to learn with great interest. Still there was a flaw in his own logic, a thing he had yet to learn. He shouldn't try and set his ambitions on being something he wasn't; with each passing moment and breath he was writing his own story. Or actually, the author is ;-)

"That's a wise lesson. And the truth; though not always easy." He nodded in agreement, finding truth in her words. Though for him it was rare to hold his tongue and not speak (before he thought) especially when emotions came into play. Another shred of wisedom that he still had to learn.  "So what is your question for me?" Or was their day already coming to an end as hours filled with talk and joy flew by fast.

"Let's pause the game for a moment and choose a guardian for you," Wraen suggested, falling silent, while in her mind palace she was going through a box called "Cool stuff from my Grandpa". A synonym for all the Greek and Roman tales she had heard from them. And eventually she picked out a catalogue of hand-drawn childish images and descriptions in an awkward and untidy handwriting. The binding of Epics for Epic would do.

"You could help me a great deal to narrow down the possible choices, if you told me few things about yourself. What are you characterwise, for instance? And, what has been lacking in your past endeavours towards greatness?" she asked in a serious manner.

"Oooh that sounds really cool! What does this guardian-thingie do?" For a second Epic blinked while taking a liking to the idea of having a guardian. Was this a local thing? He wanted to know for a second, maybe it was a tradition around these parts of the world. It made it even more special if it was something 'Rennie only did. Then it was awesome, great, EPIC! Would this guardian even protect him from harm or help him out in life? Well, it meant storytime!

"Uhhh.." For a second time in only a few minutes he blinked, this time his thoughts wandered away as he tried to come up with an answer. "Oddball, goofball, kindness-in-a-box, smart ..most of the times, talkative, playful." And what holds him back? "Umm, I'm not so handy, socially adept and sometimes my confidence is gone!" Cheesily and uneasy he smiled a little, he didn't like the idea of opening up just yet; it made him vulnerable.

"I think that Hermes would be your best fit. He is a trickster by nature, has a sense of humour that can even make the gods laugh. He is patron of travellers and he can move freely between the worlds - the mortal, the underworld and the divine," Wraen did not have to look far. With Epic's good humour Zeus and Poseidon were far too serious, Ares - the warlord - seemed the least likely choice and the rest of the male and female population, well... they weren't that tolerant to goofing around, when it came to appeasing them. There were occasions in the myths, where mortals were punished for conducting the rituals wrong. Hermes seemed a fun loving fellow - on the other hand.

"He has helped many great heroes, but he is also said to be the one, who brought lies and dubious character in the world of mortals. But also the one that gifted them cunning and intelligence. Kind of balances it out," she went on. "Does this sound good?"

Hermes, hermes, hermes ...you're now my guardian, dude! You better be good, you better be Epic! His eyes twitched for a second as he absorbed the words of Rennie carefully while getting used to the idea. Truthfully -- as far as he learned so far -- Hermes wasn't the kind of superman-hero that saved the day. That was maybe the most disappointing thing about the Greek deity. But even still, he had very neat-o superpowers like shifting between several worlds. How cool was that? Never being bored, always going from one adventure to the next. 

"I like the fact that he can shift between worlds." He said with a gentle smile while eyes now flashing with enthousiasm. "Like how cool is that?" The young male said, sharing this note as an afterthought. Now that he had a guardian, he turned back to Rennie. "So how about you? What are your qualities of heroic greatness? And what has hold you back of greatness?" He wondered out loud, turning with a newfound curiosity towards her. Even if not many stories remained, he was certain his friend also deserved a guardian. And if no Greek deity came to his mind; he just had to make one up. Was that how stories were created?

While Epic mulled over his newly appointed guardian and helper Hermes, a little shower of rocks and pieces of ice rained down on them. "Whatever you thought right now, I think he heard you. Be careful, don't make him angry," she warned him playfully, though her take on the trickster god was that he could always twist the situation to the benefit of himself. 

"Nothing has held me back from greatness. Haven't you noticed already - I.Am.Awesome.And.Brilliant!" Wraen emphasized every word, laughing merrily. "I fancy myself allying with wood nymphs and the nature god Pan," she said after thinking about it a little. "Though there is a particular nymph called Echo that I liked very much. She was a natural born storyteller and, when she spun her yarns, even the great gods stopped and listened in awe," she said. "Unfortunately that story did not have a happy ending."

Ouch! Epic bit his lip, feeling the wrath of his guardian already as rocks and pieces of ice hailed down on them. Luckily that annoying rocky shower didn't last long. "Sorry, Hermie." Epic said with a cheeky smile, trying to dare his guardian into tempting with faith itself. The good part; if Hermes was really a trickster he wouldn't mind being challenged by the playful mile every now and then, right? One way or the other, this would be fun. 

The merry laugh of Wraen really raised his spirit. He enjoyed her presence, her friendly nature and her storytelling gifts. "Yeah, I know, you're supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" Barely being able to catch his breath after single-handedly saying that frame, he added on a more serious note. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" Gleefully he slid into the silence again, once more listening to her words that crafed together a great story. "Oi, w-what happened to this Echo?"