The Heartwood Kita

Darkness had fallen once they had reached the trees. The snow glistened beneath the light of the stars and the moon. Shiranui kept their pace easy enough that the dog would not grow too tired. They had covered a good deal of ground since the start of their travels. The white wolf believed that a rest in the woodland would prove beneficial.

Turning to gaze back over his shoulder, Shiranui sought @Bartholomew. He had found a small area where the foliage had folded and grown over in an arch. It was spacious and concealed. The snow had not fallen into the crumpled leaves beneath the brush. It would likely make a suitable place to rest for the night.

sometimes he lagged, sometimes he sleepily mumbled a prayer. often times a plea for strength to continue onward until they found somewhere to slumber.

eventually his prayers had been answered in the form of his strong arm leading them to their final destination. at least the final destination for the time being. a temporary haven in the woods.

you have an eye for these things, tired, exhausted but genuine.

he wasted no time in making himself at home here. dug just a hair into the cold earth to offer himself a comfortable cradle, while leaving room for the hunter.

when his eyes fluttered he dreamed of somewhere warm. a bed covered with furs and mosses. they snapped back open to be greeted with the cold and the snowy figure of his company.

oh how he desperately wished that He might bless them with a warm day soon.

do you think you may ever speak?

a soft hmm followed it. simply curious and driven by his exhaustion to ask such trivial things.

The man was clearly exhausted from the distance they had traveled. Shiranui was pleased that he had made it to the forest, pleased to have found a suitable resting site. It would give them strength to sleep in a place that was warm and sheltered from the elemental unknown. He had looked to the clouded skies several times to see if they should expect snowfall. They had been fortunate to have made their walk without such difficulties.

When the preacher made himself comfortable, the white wolf stepped into the shelter and curled comfortably. The fur of his tail brushed against the other man, but their proximity could not be helped. In time, the two would warm the shelter and would chase the winter chill from their bodies.

Bartholomew asked if Shiranui might ever speak.

The white wolf snorted softly, making a yapping noise that might have been a laugh.

to be laughed at for such a thing! well, well —

he could only laugh back really.

perhaps he overestimated the ability of his hunter. however the man's fluctuating knowledge perturbed him. the man understood the word's he spoke enough to physically answer. yet he did not speak, nor understood the words of his Lord that he brought forth.

you confuse me, hunter! do you simply not wish to speak or can you not speak?

then his tired mind wandered.

i have heard of healing prayers to fix such things, you know. of course He would know how bless you with regained voice.

some small chatter of laughter deep in his throat.

The man laughed, but he said that he was confused.

Shiranui rested on his side. He drew his head across the leaves on the ground to look at the man. There was a glint of mirth in the ruby red of his eyes. There would be no answer to the preacher’s question. Who could say why it was that the white wolf did not speak? There did not have to be a reason for it. Shiranui had never spoken the word of common man.

It was not needed.

The white wolf did not need the blessing of a healer, the medicines of a shaman, or the touch from the hand of God. Shiranui understood more than most. He was a watcher, a listener. A wolf of the wild did not need the common words.

Shiranui lounged, watching the dog.

After a moment, the wolf curled his lip playfully and nipped at the air near the other man. It was a teasing gesture. Perhaps, a demonstration of how much Bartholomew spoke. There was no way to be certain.

the men grew livelier the later the night grew, the further they went.

perhaps He had known what bartholomew would need in these wilds more than he had known. perhaps this was to show him what awaited him in this land.

although soon he found himself on the other end of clicking teeth.

he could only defensively pull his head back. neck curved as he tucked his chin into his chest.

are you attempting murder already? that is a sin! his words may have become a soft cry, but there was no real hurt present.

only the attempt to mildly shame the sinner at best.

Something playful was returned in the religious man.

Bartholomew offered words in jest, but these were words that Shiranui did not understand as well. Sins and damnation were not commonplace. He knew of demons. He knew of the darkness in the hearts of living things. If this was sin, the preacher had a dark sense of humor.

Shiranui clicked his teeth once more before falling flat upon the leaves. His ears stood curiously pointed atop his head. The white wolf wondered still if there were wolves out there who would heed the word of a dog and follow his teaching. The path ahead and uncertain, but he did not worry.

you are a foul savage, hunter.

he scolded with a squinted hawk's gaze. the man's alert ears gave way to the fact that the hunter had not just dropped dead. smote by god for his sin, perhaps.

perhaps i should not sleep by you tonight, lest you try to commit another atrocious sin while i sleep.

The preacher continued to speak.

Shiranui had found a particularly sharp stick that scratched against his ribs. The white wolf rolled to his back, swaying from side to side until he could feel it strike against his skin. He huffed and grunted until he had scratched the itch satisfactorily. When he had finished, he rolled to his belly and rested his chin upon his paws.

A chuff was made.

Shiranui would have liked to see the dog try to sleep in the snow. He’d freeze stiff, surely.

a beast.

an utter savage.

bartholomew rolled his eyes, made a dramatic point of tossing his head to rest on his shoulder that faced away from the hunter.

i will pray for you before i sleep. perhaps you might awake anew.

he teased thoughtfully.

Prayers would be offered in hopes of shifting Shiranui toward a better future.

The white wolf was relaxed and ready for sleep. He yawned with a quiet aroomf at the end of it. The warmth of the shared space had finally eased the chill from his bones. Shiranui stretched himself, grateful for the small comfort of a den and a companion to share it. For all the man’s talk of prayers of God, he was fine company. The white wolf did not worry, in Bartholomew’s company.

may God bless you, he hummed softly.

may He give you strength to continue guiding us and may He bless you with more beasts for meals.

slight pause.

perhaps, if you truly believe, He might bless you with a voice.

scooched towards the man some, inclined to steal his warmth even more. if that was all...well, then it was time to slumber as long as they could.

Shiranui did not mind the closeness of the preacher. It gave them warmth throughout the cold night.

The white wolf did not imagine that he would be gifted with a voice. It was not something that he felt was needed. God in whatever shape he took, had given the hunter a voiceless life. Shiranui had only made the best of it. It was good to him, for him, and he could not have imagined one that was different to it. Silence was not a problem to the white wolf.

Shiranui had found that there were many with the gift of language who used it poorly. The world could do with a few more who stopped to only listen.

Ruby eyes were closed, and sleep swept the wolf away.