Founding a Legacy

There were many times when he missed his grandfather. As he padded across the plains, he contemplated the history of the pack, the foundations Regulus had laid with the wall, and the plans he’d had for shelters the pack members could live in.


He paused and studied the plains thoughtfully, then took off at a brisk trot, decision made. Today, he’d get one of those old plans going.


He knew that while it was common knowledge that the Alcoves were open to the pack as a whole, many felt as though they might be intruding on the family’s space, even if that was simply not accurate.


Digging dens was a lot of effort, and should Valhalla experience extreme rains and flooding like it had during Chrysanthe’s reign, they could have another situation like Aislyn’s death. He would rather not see any of his pack drowning in their own dens.


He settled on an open area midway between the Hillock and the Wall’s western edge, and set to work, pulling grass and laying it aside until he had a wide area, large enough to comfortably fit at least two wolves his size, or a pair with pups.


He stretched, then pulled a polished stick from one pouch, studying the ground. Lyr swooped in and he looked up at the raven, motioning to him. The raven landed, studying the cleared area as Ardyn asked, “What do you think? Would it make a good hut?”


The raven squinted, then clicked his beak, remarking, “I can see it. Who’s it for?”


“Anyone who wants a place to stay but doesn’t want to dig a den or doesn’t feel comfortable taking an alcove… or maybe a diplomat from other packs that we aren’t closely allied with. And, mostly, for Grandfather's memory. This was something he wanted to do but didn’t get to.”


King and raven studied the ground, then Ardyn pulled a coil of cordage from a pouch along with another stick and pounded the two sticks into the ground at opposite ends of the cleared place, stretching the cordage between them ensuring they were level before stepping back and squinting.


“A bit more dirt here; this spot here’s high, so that works out… I can just scrape it to the low areas.”


He set to work, making a few trips between the site and the Alcoves for supplies; a digging scapula, for one, among other things. He scraped down the high points, tamping the dirt into the low points before setting to work scratching out the outline of the hut walls.


It would be three rooms; one for sleeping, one main chamber with a small fire-pit, and another for storage of food and supplies. He studied the scratched out floor-plan, then looked up at Lyr, who tip-fluttered his wings in approval from his bird’s eye view.


That was the easy part done. He pulled the hide he’d bought the supplies over, now empty of the supplies, which he’d stacked to the side, ready to use, and began to dig with the scapula, carving out the fire-pit hole.


He made the hole two feet by three, and a foot feed, then paused and glanced between the sleeping chamber section and the pit, then shifted his plans, even if it meant more work. He spent a good three hours digging a channel in the ground from the main pit to the sleeping area, widening it to fill the center of the chamber. Once all was done, he’d have to test the idea to see if it even worked.


He stepped back and studied the layout once more, then turned and trotted away to the hillock. It took several trips to haul enough stones for the project over to the site, and his muscles burned, but he pushed through and began working on the foundation of the hut.

First went the largest stones, thumped into place with mortar slathered over and between them, two by two for a stronger foundation.

He worked through the day and into the night, his own fur and Lyr’s glowing white splashes lighting his way, and the walls grew taller until he was on his hind legs to place the last layer of stones.

That was more than enough height for any wolf that might wish to claim this as their den, and so he dropped back to his four paws with a huff, sitting back and turning to pull a packet of jerky from his pouch on the pile of his armor that he’d shucked off during the stone laying process.


He sat for several minutes, chewing and studying his progress, then glanced to the sky over the horizon. A full moon tonight, and the sky was clear, so he would have plenty of light to work with.

He finished his meal and made his way to the woods, choosing saplings that were still slim, but sturdy enough to last a long time. He used a sharpened stone ax and his dextrous front paws to hack several down, then dragged them back to the site.


The next parts would be tricky, figuring out the roof. It would need an opening for smoke, of course, and so he began building with that in mind, as well as the heated floor idea. Lyr, who had made plenty of flights to find human ruins as well as stories - haunted ghost towns had their own stories, after all - and could point out some of the possibilities available.


Ardyn used sinew cordage to bind the saplings together in a frame, with a little flex in the center, before erecting poles to which he bound the roof frame with more cordage, leaving a hole over the firepit, which he had yet to complete.

Another trip to the Alcoves, this time for several bison hides that had been stripped of hair. These he battled with for a while, laying them over the roof, with holes punched at the edges, through which Lyr worked to insert strips of cordage and attach to the roof frame.

Between the two of them they stretched the hide flat over the frame, then repeated the whole process on the other side. Over the hide went scapulas full of dirt, piles of grass. The roof held, and he let out a breath, then stepped into the hut. It was incomplete, but the walls separating the three rooms were solid. It was cozy, even without the firepit being done.

He shook himself, illuminating the hut and looking around in the brief glow of his own fur, then yawned, shaking his head and retreating from the hut, trotting briskly toward the hillock, not to his bed, but to find the large, flat stones he’d been collecting lately. He thought they’d work quite nicely for the pit.

By the time the moon had set, and the sun was beginning to tinge the sky in pink and gold, he’d lined the pit with the stones, clay mortar holding them into place, and gone the whole channel into the sleeping chamber, before laying the largest, flattest stones over the top of the channel.

If his idea worked, the firepit would send heat down the channel-tunnel into the sleeping chamber, providing a warm place to sleep in the winter. And a stone could be placed over the opening at the pit end to prevent heat from getting there, during the summer months.


He moved off from the site, digging into the plains soil and heaping the fresh dirt onto the hide he’d dragged with himself, then hauled the load back to the hut.

The dirt was spread over the stone channel and sleeping chamber floor, leaving a level space once he tamped down the dirt. That should reduce the fire hazard.

He ached bodily by the time he stepped from the hut again, and when he squinted at the sky, he realized that it was late morning. He’d been working for ages, and while he was conditioned, he was still dog tired, but satisfied.

He moved to stand a ways back from the hut, examining it with a final nod. There would be more to do, but he thought that if his grandfather could stand beside him, Regulus would be proud.

He would make more, but he decided that he would spread those projects out over a few days with plenty of rest, and probably several helping paws.

He gathered his supplies and diligently made all the trips required to put away the supplies he no longer needed, though he stacked the other supplies he’d use to finish out the interior in the storage chamber.

Finally, the young King staggered into his alcove and flopped with a grunt, falling almost immediately into a deep nap while Lyr relayed to his mother that someone would need to fill in for the day’s patrol.

Word Count: 1480 words (my arms are dead lol)

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think