Nova Peak let your colors bleed and blend with mine

@Mordur and anyone else!

     It was summer, though this land was still touched by the frost that never seemed to go away. Sasha stood, wind whipping at her fur. The she-wolf stood somewhere near the peak, looking out over the vast expanse of pine trees. The cold didn't have much an effect on her, due to her thick coat and roots in the northern areas of the world. She had brought her good friend, Mordur, with her in search for something different than her pack back home. They had traveled for quite some time from lands much further away than expected, but Sasha didn't mind it.

     The pale-brown she wolf settled down against the hard-packed ground, taking a drink from the crystal-clear water that flowed down the eastern side of the summit. She had traveled for a while, and expected Mordur to catch up any moment now. It was breathtaking really, all the new sights and experiences. She came much further north from the Teekon Wilds, and knew little of the packs that dwelled in its land. 

     The she-wolf stood up, expecting to see Mordur's dark shape emerge from somewhere on the ridge. He was her good companion, and the two had spent most of their life in the same place. Sasha sat, the slight breeze feeling nice although it was already somewhat chilly. I hope Mordur gets time to see the view from here, it's very nice. She thought, waiting for the male to arrive.

Mordur followed his master, though was falling behind slightly. He was smaller and bonier than Sasha, most of the prey he caught he gave to her. It was his duty to protect and provide for her. He was her þræll, or slave in their home tongue, and though they'd become like brother and sister, the vikings of their home pack abused slaves like him, and he would never stop being afraid. He loved Sasha like a sister, and feared her all the same. He didn't want to anger her, so the young black male pushed himself to catch up. They were climbing a mountain, which he hated. He hated that they hadn't gone to the coast. He hated that they'd gone to the coldest place when he said he told himself he was done with cold. But he couldn't protest. It wasn't his place to do so. 

So instead, Mort grumbled to himself, kicking rocks angrily as he tailed the brown puffball. Soon she stopped to admire the view from the peak and drink from the fresh mountain runoff. She always had loved pretty things. Mordur liked them too. They gave him hope. Staring at the wide expanse of trees below them, he began to wonder about their future here. It was beautiful, yet oddly dead looking. He wondered what had happened here. He turned to look at Sasha, head hung submissively and lime green eyes wide. Erum við hætt, Sasha? He asked, waiting patiently for her response. His feet told him to rest, his brain was screaming at him not to care what she said and just sleep, but the slight fear of abuse still nagged at his mind, so he waited.

Sasha turned, glad to see that Mordur had caught up. "Já," she replied in Icelandic, her native language. She had learned to speak fluently in English as well, which is what she assumed was what they spoke in the Teekon Wilds. However, her accent was still heavy and it was obvious to tell she wasn't from these parts. Mordur on the other hand was not quite so fluent, since he grew up a servant and wasn't provided many privileges.

      It concerned her that her friend didn't seem to be enjoying the trek as much as she was. In fact, he looked somewhat downcast, as always. She decided not to investigate, feeling she would just get an eyeroll in response. Sasha was glad to see his eyes brighten as he took in the view. It was something that even the grumpiest of wolves could benefit from. The she-wolf smile warmly and decided to settle down to rest her legs.

     Just before she layed down, Mordur displayed yet another show of submission. Sasha knew he didn't like it, but she decided not to speak up against him doing so. Even if they were close friends, he had served her for all his life and it felt weird to correct those ways. Despite this, she was not able to watch her friend's displeasure and decided to speak. "You don't have to do that all the time, you know?" were all the words she had to offer. Sasha layed her head down against the cool, rocky surface, her eyes level with the rushing stream.

     "What would you like to do next?" she spoke again, not bothering to speak in her native tongue. Sasha figured that she had to get used to the way of life here, and so did Mordur.

Ég þekkja. Ég ætti þó. Mordur grumbled, short black tail swishing next to him as he stopped with his submissive posture. He lightened up a bit, feeling a bit more comfortable. Somethings he just got into a phase of being scared and submissive, but Sasha always managed to comfort him. The fluffy brown warrior woman laid her head on her paws, she was calm and he should be to. He sat beside her, getting comfortable but not as much as her. It was considered rude to seem too comfortable around a master, but he knew Sasha wouldn't care much. So he allowed himself to lie down. He dared it.

It frustrated Mordur that Sasha wouldn't speak to him in their native language. He preferred it. Being a servant, he hadn't been given the education she had, and his accent was thicker than hers. Speaking English was hard, and he hated it. But she clearly wanted him to adapt, so with a pouty grunt, he attempted to respond in the gross new language. Go where Sasha go. Sasha decides. He stumbled rather awkwardly, clearly frustrated as his ear twitched. It would've been much easier to just say it as normal. He was having a hard time with English. He offered her a pitiful look, cute boyish features giving away his young age.

Sasha glanced at Mordur and shook her head as he justified his submission. "No," she answered simply, laying her head back down on her paws. Sasha had been taught to say "no" in different scenarios, but refusing a servant's submission was not supposed to be one of them. Sasha glanced at Mordur as he settled down beside her, glad to see that he was becoming more comfortable. The "wanting to be informal but not too informal" dilemma was a big problem between the two, but Sasha felt Mordur made a larger deal out of it.

The she-wolf smiled warmly as Mordur attempted to speak English. It was very broken and heavily accented, but it was a good try. "Sasha want go hunt. Sasha very hunger," she said, mocking his blunt tone playfully. It was true, the light brown female had not had a good meal for a while. Ever since the two had arrived in the Teekon Wilds, a famine had ravaged the lands. Fortunately, they came towards the end, just in time to watch the green grow back and the herds return.

"Are you up for hunting?" she asked, standing up to address the dark colored male.

Mordur could tell Sasha was mocking him, and he didn't appreciate it. He was really trying, he just couldn't get it right. His thick accent was too much, the English didn't roll off of his tongue whatsoever. It sounded like gravel in his mouth and he didn't like it. English was hard. She spoke too fast, but he got the gist. Hunting? He nodded, of course agreeing to go with her. How could he refuse? He would probably be a lure, for his hunting skills were lacking. He usually spooked prey out of bushes for her, and let Sasha do the killing. I will hunt wit you. He said with a faint smile. He was hungry but mostly just tired.

The young black wolf let his master take the lead, following her to wherever she wished to hunt. Where are we hunt? He asked, wondering where there was to hunt at on this mountain.

Sasha ceased her mocking for now; she meant for it to be a light tease but forgot how sensitive her friend was. She could tell that he was struggling with the new language, and had to stop her soft side from letting his speaking slip back to what he was comfortable with. No, he has to learn this. She settled with a firm thought, not allowing herself to have a change of heart. "Thank you." Mordur agreed to what she said every time, and it made her feel a mixture of proud and guilty. Did he really want to do all the things she asked? Probably not. But, she couldn't let him out of her sight, it just didn't feel right.

She pondered over where they should hunt after hearing Mordur's question. "Follow the stream. Leads to forest," she spoke, motioning at the stream that rushed to meet up with a dense pine forest. It was a bit of a walk, but the forest looked promising. "Maybe big prey will be there now," she added, trying to get the dark male's spirits up. She always tried, though it was a fruitless effort. Standing up and stretching, Sasha turned to Mordur and spoke. "Follow," was the last thing she said as she began to walk along the trickling stream.

Mordur nodded as she thanked him. She should thank him. He always did what she asked, for once he thought maybe he'd tell her to hunt for herself. But he didn't. She was his family, but that didn't mean he didn't want to rebel. One day maybe. Her words attempting to cheer him worked a bit. Big prey would be nice, but big prey would be impossible to catch with only two wolves. They'd end up sticking to small prey if he thought correct. Follow. She ordered, and he fell into step behind her. Together they traveled down towards the forest a nice walk if it weren't on weary paws.

When they got to the green below, Mordur stopped. He had noticed a small rabbit snuffling around a bush, and thought it should be a good catch. Stop, kanína. He said, not wanting to process the word for rabbit for in another language. I make it towards you. He said, leaving her side before she could answer and going to the other side of the rabbit. He was small and dark, fitting in perfectly with the shadows. He would make a great spy. He waited until the time was right, then leaps out at the rabbit, spooking it right towards Sasha. All she had to do was catch it.

Sasha was comforted as Mordur followed behind her. She didn't doubt that the male wouldn't do so, but at the same time, she almost expected him not to obey her orders. It registered in her mind that large prey would not be possible to catch with just the two of them. Besides, the chances of a sick or injured fawn was the only thing they'd be able to catch, and finding one was rare.

The abrupt leave of footsteps alerted Sasha, telling her that Mordur had found something. She stopped, hearing his broken sentence that told her a rabbit was near. "Ok. You chase rabbit, I will catch," the she-wolf replied, getting into position. She readied herself as Mordur's sinewy figure slunk from the shadows, chasing a rabbit straight towards her. She leaped towards it, successfully trapping the writhing figure under her paws. A quick bite to the neck and a hurried utter of thanks was all it took.

The she-wolf took a few bites, not offering any to Mordur when she was done. That was just how she was raised to do things--servants eat after their masters. There was no second thought to it, even though Sasha was usually inclined to do the nicest thing. She took her respective amount, licking the blood from her maw before passing the bloodied carcass to Mordur. There wasn't too much left, but it wasn't like there were only scraps clinging to bone. Enough meat should remain to satisfy her friend. Besides, they could always hunt more if they neede to.

Mordur stopped chasing the rabbit after it was close anough to Sasha. She leaped from the shadows and wrapped her paws around it with a swift deathly bite. He grinned largely as it died. He didn't particularly like the rabbit dying, but the thought of fresh blood in his mouth filled him with happiness, his senses already heightened and preparing themselves to eat. He almost stepped forwards to take the prey, but when Sasha started to eat, he remembered that he would only eat the scraps of her meal. That made him so mad, at Sasha but also everything else. Mostly everything else, Sasha was good.

The fluffy viking woman passed her servant the remaining meal, and he dug in wildly. He ripped into it until there was nothing left, licking clean even the bones. He looked back up at her, big hazel green eyes wide as he dipped his head. þakka þér He said, graciously though really he could've settle to have the whole darn rabbit. What he would give to be freed, to travel and eat of his own accord. He would have to wait for that day, if it would ever come.

Sasha returned Mordur's glance, her level of gratitude equal with his. She was thankful that he had helped her with the hunt. Although small, his effort had its significance. The meal slightly filled her still-rumbling belly--but the woman couldn't ask for much more. The area didn't seem to be the most bountiful of places. Sasha licked the remaining blood off her maw, tongue weaving through her mouth to rid the blood from her teeth. 

She could sense disappointment in his eyes. Mordur would have settled for a whole rabbit, and on a larger scale, he could have settled for doing what he wanted to. Sasha frowned, and decided to confront the behaviors she had watched Mordur express. She took a few steps towards the male, amber gaze locking with his.

"You want freedom, do not hide it. I can tell," Sasha said softly. "Frelsi," she switched to her native tongue for emphasis. "How badly do you want it?"

Mordur was cleaning his face when Sasha hit him with an unexpected question. He didn't understand at first, but when she restated in their own language, his ears dropped. Would she punish him for wishing for freedom? He dropped quickly into submissiveness, tail tucked and quaking slightly. The boy was really something, one second dreaming of freedom and now scared to death of it. I'm sorry. Want freedom don't want Sasha angry. He said, staring up at her from where he crouched. Maybe she was going to send him back to their home, he would be killed there. Worry flashed through him.

Until he realized this was Sasha. Sasha had saved his life once. She wouldn't kill him. They were friends once. He straightened up a little. I want freedom. He said, staring her in the eyes for only a second before averting his hazel eyes back to her brown chest fluff. A bold move, but for that second he felt confident. He was going to be free.

Oh, Mordur was so unreadable. She had asked him if he wanted freedom, expecting his immediate happiness and gratitude. Instead, submissiveness. Sasha wasn't frustrated, since she rarely expressed negative emotions in hopes to seem more optimistic. However, it clearly showed in her voice as she asked her question. "You want freedom, or no?" Doing this was already hard enough.

However, his pleading was her achille's heel. "Don't apologize. I understand that you want freedom. You may have it," she said slowly and deliberately. His gaze matched with hers, and for a second Sasha wanted to take back her offer. Traveling without Mordur made her feel strange. 

His next words however, made her keep to her offer. He wanted freedom, she could tell. The fierceness in his eyes surely showed it. "Very well," Sasha muttered, exhaling deeply. Just like her breath that had come out a cloud of fog, Mordur would disappear just like that.

She knew that Mordur would not go back home. She knew the fear that festered inside of him--of her very own father. And it pained her. The fact that Mordur was afraid of her kin, and the fact that it was very much her father that was the root of his turmoil. "You are no longer my þræll. Go when you please; go where you wish."

Mordur paused for a moment. Had he really been freed? He maybe misheard Sasha. It made sense if he did, his English was rusty. Yes surely he misunderstood. He was still Sasha's. He waited in disbelief, about to ask what she had said, when she said it again. No longer her þræll. Mordur's face lit up with excitement. Free! Frelsi! Tail wagging, the small black wolf bowed his head. Ertu viss? þú ert að fara að vera ein. He said, shaking his head remembering she wanted him to speak English. You will be lone. He said sadly, knowing it would be hard without her. But this had been his dream since forever. Freedom.

He couldn't imagine freedom and yet here it was. What would he do next? Well first he would be himself. Sassy, jerky, bratty him. The flirtatious teenager with lots to say. He'd never been himself before, so this was going to be fun. That was what he'd do. Have fun. Hopefully Sasha could have fun without him. She would, he trusted her. He knew she would be ok. They would both be happy, but apart.

Disbelief was the first thing Sasha noticed, but things cleared up after she had spoken in her native tongue. Mordur really would be gone. It was hard for Sasha to think about, but she knew she was doing the right thing. "I will be lone," she repeated, confirming his words. But maybe she wouldn't, who knew? "But maybe we will meet again," she added, trying to keep his hopes up. This is what they both wanted. Sasha wanted happiness for Mordur no matter the expense. He had suffered enough, and he wanted this too. 

Sasha's expression changed. She knew what she had to do next, and she had been dreading it ever since she proposed her offer. How would she let him go? Would he be dismissed or would Sasha just get up and leave? A sappy goodbye wouldn't help anything, though it is what Sasha wanted. However, it wasn't Mordur's style. Oh well, I am granting him his freedom. I may do it however I wish. She smiled, moving to rest her muzzle on Mordur's head. The wooly she-viking gave him an affectionate lick, and then stepped back. He was her best friend. Sasha's eyes glinted, exhaling a thick cloud of fog into the air.

"Við munum hittast aftur," She spoke, pausing. "Vertu frjáls"

Last for me!

Mordur was sad to leave, but excited all the same. Who knew where he'd go? Not back home that was for sure. Blinking his big hazel eyes, Mordur bowed his head down as Sasha tapped her muzzle to his head. He would definitely miss her, his best friend. But freedom was a dream of his. A dream he'd always had and now was real. He returned her lick them stepped back. kveðjum Sasha. And with that the dark ghost of a boy disappeared into the mountain, leaving his old life behind.

Give me rolling hills and tonight will be the night that I stand amount a thousand thrills.