Bones of our Ancestors

Hati stumped along at the back of the pack, eyes gleaming a fierce gold beneath the skull he wore - a bear's skull, THE bear's skull, the bear that had claimed his nephew and Daegmar's lives. Young Atreides Armada had accompanied him on a quest to find it mere days before, and he had spent his free time since obsessively cleaning and shaping the skull to fit on his face without sliding. The comforting weight of the skull all but blocked out his ghosts.

Now, he was the bear.

The pack stopped, faced the pack they were to join in battle, and from the back Hati lifted his heavy head to stare hotly at Abaven's alpha. He'd bested this wolf once before... before. Before he'd lost everything and lost himself. Before he'd been broken and Valentine had reshaped him, reforged him with a new identity. Hati's tongue darted out across his lips, caressing the smooth ivory fangs of the skull that rested there. He was the bear; he served Valentine Imperialis. He would follow him to his war and he would rend Valentine's enemies apart. He was the bear; it was his purpose.