Fallen Angel

The large young wolf’s response was… well…. Not what the former Archangel was expecting. At first he drew himself up to his full, impressive height. The natural conclusion as the boy crumbled and begged, was that there was some mental stress. But there was something about the young man that niggled, now that he was close enough to smell him.

“Hey, easy now. Make what stop? The volcano? Son, nothing can make a mountain stop blowing its fury. It’s a part of nature.”

He edged closer, still beyond biting distance if the boy was prone to lashing out in his distress, and wary of any reason to dance aside. He might not be as spry as he once was, but he wasn’t that stiff. With the boy’s attention so firmly on him, he wondered if it might not be helpful to edge until his back was facing west, toward the ocean far behind, a much more peaceful backdrop to the devastation in the east.

He got a good whiff of the boy’s scent as he shifted casually, making it clear he had no intentions to circle him in order to jump him. Something… And that coat.

“Calm, child. It’s the best thing we can do in these times. Stay calm, and move one step at a time.”

That scent. Family. But which sister birthed this one? Unless he was Tornach’s… But surely his middle brother would have told him, even as distant as they were.

“I’m Regulus Adravendi, Wisdom of Valhalla. What’s your name?”