bones break
Even stretched out along the top of a crumbling rock dozing, he was only half-asleep, easily roused by the sound of a paw or a shadow of movement. Old habits died hard, and not even here in the confines of the pack could the old warrior completely let his guard down. Perhaps especially in the confines of the pack... not all those who had died at the jaws of their Abraxas kin had been culled as pups. He suspected more than one had been killed more to keep them quiet about the more psychotic practices of some of their kin than for any real weakness, and he could recall at least one suspicious incident of a cousin murdering a youngling on the justification of a conversation she had supposedly overheard the youth holding with herself, a conversation that no one had confirmed and the cousin had gone unpunished for her overly precocious decision. He was loyal to the Abraxas, but he was not interested in needing to kill or maim another of their wolves because they had decided on their own that he was too old now to be of use to them. When he died, and die he must, one day, it would be on his own terms, not some idiot thinking that they were the best qualified to decide his usefulness was at an end. Until that day, the old wolf knew he would be best served to be on his guard even in pack bounds.
He gave a growling sigh and shifted in his sleep, stretching one aching leg out behind him to ease the pain in his hip.
The dark corridors and various rooms of the castle had yielded treasures beyond the male’s imaginings; everything from an alchemic laboratory to tools for making fire could be found in the stone walls, and Rain made great use of all the resources at his disposal. He had crafted tinctures and oils to treat everything from bruises to bites and proudly carried his work in the bags on his back. His companion of course couldn’t go unthanked for his contributions, teaching the boy the seemingly otherworldly knowledge he had obtained from gods knew where. He had noticed once a line of circular scars along the top of the primate’s skull but when Rain questioned the baboon as to their nature the golden monkey fell silent and had remained silent through the entirety of the day.
Rain had left his companion behind that day while he made his rounds in the garden, checking on the plants he had collected throughout Auster and planted in the garden to be used whenever he pleased. Lately it seemed more and more wolves could be found in the garden and he was unable to help the cold finger of fear that touched his heart at the thought of his more toxic cultivations being discovered.
He strode past the crumbling boulder and froze, catching the white wolf heavily contrasted against the dark of the stone. He was large in size but from where he stood Rain couldn’t tell if he had the streaked markings of an Abraxas. He knew at least that the man was not an intruder and he hesitantly offered a quiet “Good morning.” To the lounging phantom, his ears turning back slightly as he did.
speaking Thinking You |