Haunted Wood They say flowers can open new paths

Winter air nipped at the wolf. Shiranui padded quickly through the forest. Prey scent lingered in the air. The last remnants of sunlight were slipping behind the mountains. It would get colder. 

Shiranui paused, sniffing at the touch of wind. The wolf searched the trees with sharp eyes. His ears stood erect upon his head. The wariness slipped from his figure and Shiranui resumed prowling.

every scent swam and swirled beneath his nostrils.

he could smell the lingering trails of prey, he could smell thicker scents to the north of beasts he did not know, but most importantly? he could smell someone nearby, closer than those beyond the wood's tree line.

his eyes would come upon him soon enough. a large man, thick with worked muscles. the kind of man bartholomew liked to think had never seen the wisdom the world could offer.

but this beast was pale, he was pious. a sign for none other than bartholomew.

blessed are you, bartholomew offered with a grin on his narrow features that did not shine in his eyes.

Ruby eyes shifted toward a dark shape. One pale ear swiveled upon the wolf’s head. Shiranui had only seen a dog once, chasing through faraway fields and barking into the air. This one looked to share its blood with the wild things, but not fully. There were distinct signs of domestication, things that did not belong to the hunters of the world.

The greeting was unfamiliar. Shiranui kept his gaze trained on the unfamiliar figure. The one ear upon his head remained turned to the side, seeking sounds from the forest, hunters who would seek to approach without being heard. The white wolf did not know if the dog traveled alone, or if he had gathered other hunters.

Shiranui did not move, but he watched from his place in the foliage. The red of his eyes begged the question, what do you want?

the man did not speak and bartholomew wondered.

was he too dense to speak? or did he know the value in his silence?

you are silent, he pointed out the obvious as his smile seemed to droop into a frown. only for a moment, before he willed his lips to perk once more.

perhaps you know more than you let on. he paused, thoughtful as his yellow gaze roamed. do you know who blessed us with this day, boy?

it was spoken as a title, more than truth. boy. a show of where bartholomew mentally positioned himself between them.

Silent, yes. Shiranui nodded his head once. At his hocks, his tail wavered twice before falling still. The pale wolf’s gaze did not shift from the doggish one. The traveler found the stranger’s words to be curious. He did not appear to be unfriendly, only peculiar. The white wolf had listened to many mouths speak many words. How would this man be different?

The dog asked if Shiranui knew who had blessed them. He called the wolf a boy. The pale figure drew his head upward, defiance gleaming in the depths of his ruby stare. Shiranui was young, yes. He was not a boy. The white wolf had traveled across endless fields of green and white. He was as young as the wind, as much a boy as the mountain range.

Shiranui tilted his head. A low whine slipped from his lips.

What blessings did the dog speak of?

bartholomew did enjoy when they seemed to know their places — even if he was casted a look of defiance, there was no acting upon it.

him the guiding hand of a shepherd and this boy the sheep. perhaps that was why he had been sent here, to guide those back into the flock.

Him, of course! none other than God.

his smile seemed to split a bit wider, an exposure of teeth but not out of violence. then tamed once more into a thin lipped sort of presentation.

He is the one who created the prey you track, the woods we stand in, even us individually in His eye. aren't His creations wonderful?

Ah, so the dog spoke of Gods.

Shiranui drew his ears forward to listen. He had not heard of a beast who worshipped one God. The white wolf had heard the tales of the great celestial creatures. When he had been young, they had been the only stories to have followed him from his village. Gods were curious things with curious powers.

The white wolf lowered his head. He sniffed at the ground beneath them.

Everything had been created in the image of this beast’s God. Even they were fashioned in his image, or so it seemed from the man’s words. Shiranui regarded him shrewdly. How had such a man found himself in the wilds?

The pale figure drew closer to the figure, sniffing at what could be reached.

he welcomed, in these moments, the pale barbarian's closeness. as if bartholomew had wings that he might open to offer shelter to the beast.

there seems to be no bounds to His creations. undeniably powerful to be able to create the mountains, yet He took such care in creating us.

tiled his head up some. both haughty and yet simply a natural movement. sniffed the air around the pale beast.

we may look different, but we are all equal under Him.

All the Gods that Shiranui knew were beasts, but they were not as equal as the dog claimed to be.

The pale wolf snorted. His dark lips pulled back into a curious expression. It was clear that he did not believe such things – equality under the supreme creation of one being. For, as Shiranui stood over the halfling, it was clear that his physique and knowledge was superior.

Still, the devout stranger had made it far enough into the wilderness to stand and speak. Shiranui had only ever known dog to remain with man. How would this zealous man feed himself? Would his God come down from on high and grant him the know-how of a hunter? Shiranui did not believe so.

They were as different as summer and winter.

he was not a mind reader, he only worked as a mouthpiece.

perhaps you will go forth and spread this knowledge with whoever you travel with.

although bartholomew begged to tell from scents that this man was merely one. no perfume or cologne upon his coat other than his own musk.

unless...you need a place. He tells us to be kind too, to work together.

he did not have one, but they could find one. it would not hurt to have muscle for his words.

The pale wolf pulled back, blinking at the dog while thoughts poured through his mind. Shiranui knew that the nature of the wolf was to find others, to build a pack and a home. He was no different from his kin in this regard. The white wanderer had spent a great deal of his life on his own. He had been made the hero of a small number of stories, all with a different name.

Shiranui nodded his head.

He would travel with the preacher for as long as it suited him. If the dog would have him. Shiranui knew that he was not a man who offered a great deal. He could hunt. He could fight. The sharpness of his tooth had been tested many times before.

Wolves were only strongest when they were in a pack.

we can wrap this up and do something new with them? not sure if you had any plans for Shiranui! feel free to PM me if you do :D

he had found himself his tooth, his strong arm, an enforcer.

bartholomew would treasure him, accordingly. they would be only two but as long as they remained this balance between them, he would see that the pale man was treated well.

especially when the time came for bigger things.

^^ Oh I have no plans at all! I’m quite pleased to see how things turn out organically. Also, I do what I can to be a flexible writing partner. Very eager to see where Bartholomew goes. And I’m pleased to tag along in whatever misadventure you have planned for him. <3

One became two.

They were a modest pairing – the wolf and the dog. Shiranui had no qualms with the halfling’s nature, though he knew very little of it. From his past experiences, the white wolf had only experienced one terrible woman who had focused her life on the celestial being Kazegami – the horse who embodied the wind. She had chased the tail of a tornado and it had swallowed her whole.

Shiranui could not help but wonder what power dwelled with the dog and his one God. He supposed that he would discover, in time.