Hello There

*Surreal* · 10-21-2013, 11:45 AM

Surreal

Surreal was taking her endurance run again, long legs having fully grown into her body. She was almost her full adult size now. She was strong, she was fast. And she?d only get stronger as she aged. And she needed to be strong for Valhalla. When he uncle stepped down, She would take his place as Valhallan Beta. Already she was a Gamma. Ranked by Chrysie herself! She didn?t allow that to go to her head, however. One of the first and foremost lessons her mother and Uncle had drilled into her skull was that too much pride could get one killed. Or at the least, in deep trouble. She could be proud to serve her pack, but if it went to her head, she was useless to the pack, and could be a danger to them. That was the last thing she wanted.

She reached the boulder that was her new finish line in her runs, and slowed to a stop, turning her head to look over her shoulder, back towards home. Apart from training in Valhalla, it seemed relatively quiet after the lost second challenge for Liberty. Too quiet. She could feel the tension growing. Either Syrinx would lead the warriors in a raid on Glaciem?s borders, or Glaciem was going to make the move first. Something told her it would be the latter, and it would be soon. How many would die in this war? Would she herself be there at the end, when it was over? Would it ever be over? The only way it would ever be over, she surmised, was if Isardis were killed, removing the head from the serpent. He wouldn?t stop, until he was dead, dead, dead.

His Son, Taurig. Now her adopted brother. She wanted to meet him badly, but she hadn?t had time to travel across the Field to Tortuga and meet her new brother. Her mother had a wonderful, almost ethereal sense of characters. Surreal was almost convinced her mother could see into a wolf?s soul just by looking into their eyes. Of course? Magic wasn?t real, but one could always have their imaginings.

Silver legs started her forward again, and she padded to the river, lowering her head for a drink. Obsidian always said that horses should never drink after a hard run, because it did bad things to their stomachs. She said she knew a horse that had died from it. Luckily, wolves didn?t suffer from this problem, so Surreal drank her fill, then paused as the air currents above the water flowed to cross her muzzle, bringing with it a stranger?s scent. She analyzed it, inky nose quivering as she remembered her well taught Forest Craft. Uncle Cormalin, Cousin Cael, and her mother, as well as Cousin Alsander, all said that a wolf?s scent could tell a lot about the wolf. Whether the wolf was ill or well, how old the wolf was, and gender, as well as the subtler tinges of emotions. Anger had a sharper, muskier smell, and fear was a rank odor. Love was a wonderful smell. And sadness was? well, sad.

This wolf was male, and young. Like her. Not yet holding the full muskiness of an adult male, but not far from it. There was also a familiar tinge? Her eyes narrowed, but she didn?t let her head raise to tell the wolf she knew him to be there. Subtly, she let her paws fall into a balanced set, in case the stranger was a danger to her and her pack. He smelled faintly like the pale Ice King, Isardis. Any wolf from that family was not to be trusted until they proved themselves trustworthy. So she waited for the male to approach.

Login
Username:
Password:	Lost Password?
	Remember me