Hero's Journey

Big bright red paws padded heavily along the edge of the rolling plain better known as the Battlefield. The sapphire and gold pendant glittered under the late summer sunlight, jingling gently on its chain. His sapphire eyes swept the plains. "Bheadh sé seo a bheith ina áit deas fionnuar, más rud é nach raibh sé clúdaithe i fola." He muttered to the cat on his shoulders. Cinder gave a soft mew of agreement, large blue eyes gazing around at the devastated corpses of wolves who had met in battle for the death, and lost. Far more blood than theirs stained the earth, left behind by less fatal battles. The air hung thick with summer heat, left over aggression and adrenaline. Regulus could practically taste it.

He felt his heart-rate speed up a bit. It was his first taste of this place. He wasn’t absolutely head over heels with the feeling, but he wasn’t hating it, either. This was going to be his personal test of himself; he wanted to see where he was in skills, if he could hold his own against a stranger in a spar. His puppish side crowed that he could take on the world with one paw tied behind his back. His smart side said that he was going to lose, most likely. He slowed to a stop, looking around at the expanse. Currently, he and Cinder were the only live beings present on the Field. Would anyone come to his call when he made it? He craned his head around to look at his friend.

"Ba chóir duit dul dócha bhfolach sa líne crann. Níl a fhios agam más rud é go mbeadh daoine eile de mo chineál is mian leat an oiread agus is a dhéanann muid, Luaith." He offered with a little smile. He didn’gt want her getting hurt if another wolf decided she looked like a tasty morsel rather than his companion and best friend. Cinder nodded and dropped from his back, lifting a paw in disgust as it, and all three other feet landed in a slow drying pool of blood. She didn’t need to be told twice to get off the field… She’d just gotten her paws clean, for Darkness’ sake!

Regulus waited until she was at the base of a tree at the very edge before he circled around, looking for a clear spot, free of blood or rocks. It was easier said than done, but he succeeded in finding one, at the top of one of the rolling hills. He spread his toes, digging his claws into the dirt a few times. He felt a little foolish being out here. He was just a pup, even though he was already so big and tall. Maybe whomever came would be nice, nice enough to teach him as well as sparring him.  He’d just have to howl and see.

He settled into the squared and balanced stance his mother had drilled into his mind since she’d started training him, tilted his head back, and issued a howl. He had to admit that he was glad it didn’t crack, squeak, or do anything else to embarrass him; he wasn’t vain, but you have to admit that talking and suddenly having your voice squeak out of control was pretty annoying… Especially when your sister laughed at you.

His muzzle lowered and he waited, ears swiveling to listen for any who might approach. He was nervous, but he was ready to go.