Kildeer Rest This Race Is a Prophecy

Running. The earth that stung his paws, the air that screamed in his lungs, yet despite all of it Calhoun still pushed forwards. He was far from the danger now, far from the death, but he knew this was no place to rest. His home was gone, burned to the ground by what he could only believe as a sign from the High Elk. He had yet to figure out the cause for the act of wrath, perhaps his family had offended him in some way. It was an easy thought to believe, especially when others still freely accepted the witch that walked amongst them.

Finally, a clearing broke out before him as the Déorwine came to a stop with a heaving chest. This could do, it was easy to see the abundance of small life that might provide in the moment. His side ached, the burns that stretched his flank still lit a flame through his skin at each movement, but resting to heal wasn't his priority. He had to find the High Elk. He had to find...his family...if any even lived. It was a pleasure to believe some made it out, but it would be foolish to cling to that thought. Still, he couldn't help but let his eyes scan his new surroundings with the light hope that clung to him.

While the wolf ran, he too wondered why such a tragedy had befallen the pack. There was no doubting their devotion to the High Elk; they had been faithful, had they not? They were thankful for all that he provided, they respected tradition, honoured the very forest He inhabited.

Yet, all the same, He had unleashed his wrath upon them and scorched the earth; they could never return. Why, why, why? Like Calhoun, Brewster could not keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of that albino, Whitney. He knew he could not solely blame the Witch for the disaster, at least not yet, not while everything was still in tatters. He had to find the remnants of his family first, the rest of the Déorwine who had scattered to the wind.

Brewster limped determinedly through the grassy field, his nose working overtime as he followed a faint scent trail. From memory, he recalled it to be that of one of his nephews and, as it grew stronger, he finally put a name to the smell. Ah, Calhoun. Of course it was him. He still couldn't make his mind up about the boy; he had proven himself as a devoted sort which was admirable, yet he reminded Brewster a little too much of his sister's husband.

A lone figure appeared in the distance as he drew closer, still and silent, seemingly searching. The man gave a grunt as he accidentally used his burnt forepaw, before haggardly closing the distance between he and Calhoun. "Good to see at least one of my brother's spawn made it out, hey boy?" he called out gruffly, flashing him a half-hearted smile in greeting.

He heard the man before his eyes found his shape. Uncle Brewster. It was one, perhaps not one of the ones he'd rather see, but it was something. The two had never been super close despite direct blood lineage, but what would you expect from someone with cool browns like he? It threatened his own devotion. Though again, a Déorwine is a Déorwine.

Calhoun chuffed in response as red eyes fell to the burns along the other's pelt. It seemed out of the two he had been the luckier, but Cal could thank the High Elk for that. Surely it was no coincidence. How many times must I tell you old man? Don't call me boy, I have a name. Eyes flashed to meet his uncle's with a glare though it would soften slightly. Praise the High Elk that we are not alone...have you seen any others, Uncle? The fact that he was alone spoke enough, but perhaps he had been left behind. It would not matter if they traveled together, they would all end up wherever the elk be.

The two surveyed one another, Calhoun's hard ruby gaze meeting his own for a moment as he snapped back. He let the remark slide with a casual ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ of his shoulders, unbothered for now. They both had been through a rough few days, it was understandable for the boy to be on edge. Besides, most of his nephews seemed to have a bit of an attitude; must be a Déorwine thing (not that Brewster himself thought he had ever been such a brat in his younger days).

"I have not," he answered after a pause, casting his eyes out over the horizon, for a moment growing sombre as he murmured, "it all happened so suddenly, I'm surprised I even found one of you lot." Suddenly, he turned to Calhoun. "And you? Have you seen any signs of the High Elk?"

He was shrugged off and the simple gesture was more than enough to make Calhoun's blood boil. For someone who was clearly viewed as lesser than by the High Elk, he sure didn't try to make up for his flawed appearance. Perhaps the High Elk knew before his uncle was born just what kind of man he would grow into, and as a response stripped the warmth from his pelt.

Lucky for Brewster, his nephew wouldn't have the chance to stew long as he finally gave the answer he sought. You should have more faith. The High Elk will bring us together. Speaking of— There's been no visible sign to grace us, but the fact that we have met suggests we tread the correct path. He must have already found a new home for them, it would only be a matter of time until he revealed himself to the family once more.

Little did either Déorwine know, several had already passed them on their journey. Calhoun could only hope that wherever the High Elk took them that the trip is easy. They had, after all, just lost everything they knew, and those who had not passed likely suffered from injuries similar to his own or worse like Brewster. Your paw needs treatment should you expect to survive the journey. There's no knowing how far we must go. While his own burns were less serious, the pain was all the same. He too would need to seek out a healer.

Unaware of the scathing thoughts directed at him, Brewster's own features softened as Calhoun replied, assuring him that they would be all brought together again in time. There was no doubt the devastating fire had shaken his faith in the High Elk, had him questioning the purposes in His grand plan for taking away their home and so many loved ones, but he cast aside the cynicism abruptly. His nephew was right, despite what had happened, he had to have hope, trust that the High Elk had a greater purpose for those who had survived.

The man gave a nod in agreement, gaze hardening once more. It was proof enough that the first wolf he had come across was indeed another family member; they just had to keep searching and let themselves be guided to where He thought they should go.

At the mention of his paw, Brewster tried to dismiss the concern with a shake of his head. "Pah! It'll take more than a pitiful little burn to take me down," he announced proudly, though he still didn't dare step upon the injured foot. He knew, deep down, hunting was now out of the question with such a wound, and while he was capable enough, a lone wolf at his age could only survive for so long, High Elk's guidance or no.

"Still, it would be wise to find a pack to take us in," he said, limping forward a little. "At least until we find the rest."

His uncle insisted his wounds would not fell him to which Cal responded with a hmph and a roll of his shoulders. He better be right, after all, Brewster already made it this far. He'd find it an insult to fall now when so many never even had the chance to run...like his parents. I'm holding you to that. The Déorwine's ruby gaze searched out for a sign or hint as to where they should go now, but of course, the land remained plain and empty. The distance held mountains though, and where there were mountains there was life.

There.He motioned to the west. Perhaps that is where our brethren have fled to. It follows the direction we have been following as well. A glance was offered to Brewster, perhaps for his guidance or maybe it was just for his own confirmation that he would be following.

"I'm holding you to that." Brewster's lips parted into a toothy, self-assured smile. He had half a mind to jab back at his nephew's retort, to joke that he was only out here to make sure young Calhoun didn't perish himself, but decided against it. The boy had been through enough; let them first find the rest of the family, and then he could taunt him to his heart's content.

The man followed Calhoun's gesture as he motioned to the distant mountains, gaze narrowed in doubt. The Déorwine were wolves of the forest, surely the High Elk would not lead them into a place full of rocks and ice? Still, the boy was correct in his thinking — the fields so far seemed devoid of wolven life, their best bet would be to head west into the mountains.

"Let's get to it then," he said with an affirmative nod, though quickly realised it would be slow going with his damned injured paw. "You, uh, can scout ahead, boy." His cocky demeanour faltered for a moment before it was just as quickly replaced with a beaming grin. "I'll search the area here and follow at a distance."

last post from me I think feel free to wrap up

It's true the West only showed promise of mountains, but who knew what laid beyond. Perhaps the distance hid something more as well, their forest laid somewhere, and with time the High Elk would show it. Luckily, his uncle agreed that saved him from having to throw a fit, though his paw meant he would have to linger behind. Very well. No need to complain, he liked doing things his way anyways, or at least his way to the High Elk's liking.

We shall meet again soon. He was confident in his words, Brewster had made it out alive which meant there were plans for he and his uncle alike. May you continue to feel the High Elk's guidance. I'll wait should I come across a healer. Little would he know that the nearest pack would be washed away in a matter of days, but that would be a problem for future Calhoun. For now, it was just the journey onwards.

Thanks for the thread!

Brewster dipped his head at Calhoun's words. They would indeed see each other again, and with some luck, they would have more family members in tow. The one saving grace of the fire meant they all fled in relatively the same direction; these lands were where the bulk of the Déorwine would have ended up.

"And you, Calhoun," the man replied with a gentle smile, knowing his nephew would be grateful for the time alone. He was a dedicated one, fiercely devoted to the High Elk, but also a bit of a lone buck. "Thank you."

It didn't take long before the younger wolf had put quite some distance between them, and Brewster's eyes followed the familiar figure until he disappeared over the horizon, before slowly continuing on towards the mountains on his lonesome.