I dream during day

*Champion* · 05-22-2013, 08:18 AM

[Image: champion_wanderer_by_kidrylm_writer-d641iq6.png]

...
This kind, new soul carried on. Champion was inwardly made uncomfortable by the continued talk of these illegitimate pups. Oh her Alpha... she disapproved his tendencies most ardently, but again she kept her mouth shut like a good soldier. She wasn't going to start anything. She was thankful for the next subject hop, but Maka was two sentences into it before Champion's eyeballs nearly exploded from her head:

"-I've heard that she had a pup and the father's name was Mouse if I'm correct.-"

Mouse. She'd said Mouse. Before too long, this fae said it again. She was saying Champion's father's name. How was that possible? Champion's father had been dead months before she was born, but somehow she'd still grown up feeling very close to him. She looked like him in many ways - in form and in color, though he had been gold and brown all over. She even inherited his tail curl. The red eyes, she was told, came from her father's sire, and the uncommonly large shoulders came from her mother.

In her early years she was practically raised on stories of her parents - it was their comrades and captain who brought her up after all. A finer bunch of vetrans there never was, and Champion had learned all she could from them. When it came to her mother, however, their knowledge was somewhat limited. They knew she had come from the south - where she had been a leader of a pack, but she never breathed a word of it. She'd been tortured in the mountain dungeons of the White wolves, for they wanted to know more of other lands which they might take over. They did horrible things to her, but they were never allowed to mar her beauty - for her fighting form and markings had caught the eye of their brat of an emperor who wanted the fae for his harrem when the interrogations were done.

But Sadie had outlasted them all - and, when fate gave her the chance, made good her escape - running almost smack into the arms of Champion's sire, Mouse, who took the bruised, starved shell of a she-wolf back to the camp of defiant rebels.

It made for such great stories - all told in the dark windy nights with the Northern Lights dancing overhead.

But Champion had come to believe that stories was all they ever would be. What this she-wolf was pouring out.... these words... they changed everything. But 'shock' never really registered with Champion. No sooner had Maka stopped speaking, then Champion was asking for more. In her haste she skipped over the question that was left hanging in the air. "Tell me more! What's this Crusade like? It sounds like you all have a lovely family!" For all outsider purposes she was jut an engaged stranger, happy to hear more of this nice she-wolf's life, but, oh, how her heart was beating in her chest - racing and thudding like a bull moose in spring.

...

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