Welcome Home

He could see that his words had a profound effect on Solveiga’s views on fighting. Those sky blue eyes widened as he spoke of defending newborn pups, and of Rayne’s death. He had left out that Rayne had quite possibly been raped just before her death. His grandmother had been certain of it, herself, judging from the scents, but the male had never been tracked down to be brought to pay for the murder. He nodded readily at her suggestion that he be her mentor in fighting. “I have no issue with that, myself.” He enjoyed teaching as much as his mother and Grandmother.

A wide grin broke across his jaws as she speculated on his coloring. “Yeah. Mother thought I was white soaked in her blood at first. Glad it’s just me. Makes me wonder what any children from myself will look like.” Would they all be red, like him? Or the colors of their mother, whomever that may be?

It was pleasing to find one that could soak up the history of the land they trod upon, especially when his family’s blood was literally soaked into the earth in places. From the war of Valhalla and Glaciem, where his Aunt Chrysanthe had lost an eye, and his mother had been wounded in her fight, his cousin Alsander and Cousin Caerul, and his great Uncle Cormalin had all fought their hardest, to Cairo, buried at their paws. Blood of death, blood of birth. His own father’s blood had touched the ground in his fight to free himself of Arcanum.

“What would you like to know? From the very, very beginning, before my Grandmother came to the pack before it was Valhalla? Or to the more recent history?” He grinned back. His grandmother had ensured that he at least had absorbed the entire history, to the best that she could remember it, and the history as she had been told as a pup. He wanted to make sure that the knowledge passed on to him wasn’t forgotten, and indeed that it would flourish to other minds, and never be forgotten.