Brother, Brother

The snow based young male trotted amiably beside one of the Nomads, chatting amicably over the various uses for Partridgeberries. His black marked face and his sapphire and amethyst mixed eyes were intent as he glanced at the wolf he spoke to – one of his mentors among the pack – and finished, using the Old Tongue, "Agus is féidir leis cabhrú breithe gan stró, cosúil le Motherwort, agus féadfar é a úsáid freisin chun Tobscoir toircheas ... Cé go cén fáth go mbeadh duine ar bith a iarraidh é sin a dhéanamh é thar dom..."

His black browpoints furrowed in thought, though he smiled as the silver and white female nodded approval. She was one of his aunts, he’d found. A younger litter than his mother’s, but no less knowledgeable, especially since she’d stuck with the Nomads to continue her training into master levels of healing knowledge. Kavamaya had been one of his favorite mentors. She smiled at his words, knowing they’d get to reasons why aborting a litter would be beneficial in a moment, and said, instead, "Má dhéanann tú é isteach i ointment le saill fianna rindreáilte, is féidir leat é a fhorordú le máthair le tirim, siní tinn. D'fhéadfadh sé laonna dhíspreagadh ó altranais, áfach, mar sin cuir duilleoga mint chun é chun cuidiú leis an blas."

Temporarily turned from his thoughts of abortions, Paladin smiled, tail wagging slowly as he nodded, soaking up the knowledge gleaned. Kavamaya added, gentling her voice, "Agus uaireanta, tá sé dhi agus níos sábháilte a Tobscoir le linn toirchis go luath, in ionad bheith in ann an leanaí marbh-bheirte, nó breithe a mharaíonn leanaí agus máthair araon. Bhí i gceist Nach bhfuil gach duine a bheith bheannaigh le máithreachas." Paladin gazed back at her warm amethyst eyes as he registered the words, then nodded, understanding settling the confusion. But, how would one know when a pregnancy was good and strong, and when it was too risky to continue?

His jaws parted, but at that moment, a clump of the Nomads’ children came racing up, yipping and laughing, tumbling over paws and tripping some travelers. "Uncail Paladin! Uncail Paladin! Féach cad a fuair muid!" One of the pups, a girl, pranced forward, white tipped black tail whipping several of her playmates in the face as she presented their catch. A small antler was clutched in her still blunt muzzle, and her wide green eyes were sparkling with pride at the find.

Paladin wasn’t their uncle, but many of the children in the pack had taken to calling him Uncle. He bent, grinning as he examined the points, making guesses as to what they could be used for. Broken and sharpened just right, he thought he could see a way to poke holes through hides and bind them with sinew… "Sin iontach a aimsiú iontach, laonna. Ba chóir go mbeadh sé seo a bheith an-úsáideach!" His mid-baritone voice was warm, a bright grin over his face as he took the proffered gift, and the pups leapt and tumbled and pranced away to join the procession.

In all, there were about twenty individuals in the group. This was only one of many groups of the Nomad Pack. They never stayed in one place, nor in one giant pack, instead breaking into groups, almost like clans or tribes, and traveling that way, gathering each year when they could. The group he traveled with were one of two that wandered the continents, often crossing to others through ice bridges in the winter, or land bridges when they found them. Now they traveled through the western portion of Boreas, escorting Paladin home, at last.

They’d had to skirt a pack border at one point, and that hadn’t been there when he’d followed his mother and cousin and his sister before. But the borders had smelled familiar… Faite? What did that mean for Celestial? His head lifted and he twisted it around to drape the antler over his back, then confided to Kavamaya, "Tá imní orm. Cad a tharlaíonn má Celestial é nach bhfuil ann?"

It was a worry that had been weighing on his mind since they’d left the other pack’s borders behind. Kavamaya leaned to dash a lick on her nephew’s cheek, nosing it gently before she assured him, with unswerving certainty, "Beidh na gasóga bheith ar ais in aghaidh an lae, agus táimid ag a chur ar bun campa go luath. Ach geallaim duit, ceapaim go bhfuil do phacáiste breá." Aunt and nephew gazed at each other for a long few moments, before Paladin nodded, sighing and turning his head to gaze off toward his home. He sure hoped she was right.

~

The camp bustled as wolves settled into a wide, grassy basin of land near the coast. The out-runners that kept an eye open for good resting and camping places had returned to say that this was the most acceptable place to set up a camp, and the pack had brought down a deer. Instead of digging into the downed beast, the Nomads systematically portioned it out, keeping the hide and bones, and the sinews specially to dry in the sun and store to carry. The Nomads had been ever ingenious in finding ways to heal wounds, and they’d found a way, while tedious and difficult with only paws and jaws, to close the wounds more effectively than with spider webs.

Paladin himself had eaten well and was laid out, gazing up at the sky. Soon he’d be home. How were his siblings? Was Justice alright? Had his mother and the Archangel made it in time to save Surreal? So many questions were about to be answered in just a day or so.

A call came out from one of the guards that kept their eyes open for danger. Someone had been found in the desert by the out-runners, and needed help. The snowy based healer in training was quick to his paws and bounding toward the call, heart thumping in his throat as it always did when they found a wolf in need of healing assistance. A burst of adrenaline, before he forced his heart rate to slow and his head to remain focused. He was ready to work.