How long had it been since he’d seen a familiar face? Surely he deserved this ruin, Rowan knew that he did. His father had warned him of it all his life and he believed every word the man said, believed it in a way that was more physical than mental. And yet, here he was. The year and change he’d spent away from his father’s band had not been kind to him, his once-soft pelt robbed of its plushness, his handsome features turned sharp and gaunt by a hard winter on his own. He was almost unrecognizable now, even to himself. That felt right. He’d left most or probably all of what he was behind when he’d betrayed his father. He was as good as dead, a corpse still shambling around. Even still he still wanted like a living creature, still felt the need for food and rest, and every day he searched and searched, though what he was looking for tended to change from day to day. A lot of the time, it was a concept. Salvation. Hope. Once, it had been an individual, but Rowan wasn’t sure he even wanted to find him anymore. Now, as lurid greens stained the blue of the sky and the horizon line gathered clouds that were not so much gray as they were black, looming and ominous as the very specter of death, Rowan searched for nothing more than the shelter to see him through to morning. He didn’t need to be an expert in weather phenomena to recognize a storm, and a bad one at that. There was hardly the time to even think to move inland before the storm was rushing up to meet him, first the wind, and then the rain. Into the woods he ran, flooding already stealing away the sand banks he’d stood upon mere minutes before. There was no time to be picky. The trees were packed root to root but they offered little coverage up until the flood line. That was a blessing and a curse, at least it gave him some ability to judge how high the flooding might come, and plan accordingly. From there he just had to find a hollowed stump or tangle of fallen trees and branches, and he could build up from there. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of wood. The wind only intensified, roaring and pulling at his fur. He’d managed to find exactly what he was looking for, a sheltered overhang where one tree had fallen and tangled in the branches of its neighbor, and had just begun shoring up the gaps with mud, sticks, and bark when he spotted what looked at first glance to be a corpse. It was a heap of sodden white fur pressed against the trunk of a tree as if glued to it by the rain. As he uselessly shook the water from his fur for the thousandth time, wondering if he should do something. And then it moved. “Hey idiot!” he called out, vocal chords cracking to be heard above the wind. “It’s flooding! Come with me to higher ground, I’m building shelter!”

Word Count: 524
524/2500

Lucian had never liked storms. He'd been left out in them so much that you'd think he'd be used to it, but each one had only made him worse. With each storm he became better at predicting the next one, but it did little by means of helping. Especially now, out on his own without someone to keep him alive. This is exactly what those traders wanted; their stock being unable to care for themselves so that they need their masters. Lucian had never thought too hard about it or wished that he had the skills to keep himself alive, though when one was starving they did their best to survive and Lucian was no different. He'd been scavenging on carcasses left behind by other predators, though pickings were slim and the boy had lost a substantial amount of weight. All the health he had gained with Fenmyre had disappeared as if it were never there, though at least his injuries were minor compared to before.

The only thing on his mind now however was the storm, and as it grew he became paralyzed with fear and stuck up against a weird tree with even weirder roots. He hadn't cared much about what tree he was hiding against exactly, but that he could hold on to it. For all he knew, it wasn't very strong. It provided him some sense of security though, but not enough to look for something better. He was stuck here to ride out the storm, though as his fears predicted, it wasn't safe enough for him to survive.

The rain came pouring hard down and the roots he huddled against were hardly enough to shield him, though it did good hiding the tears streaming down his face. His body curled around a root, not having known that this was a hurricane and it was standard for the major storms to pull water back into the ocean before crashing back onto land. Lucian had no clue he wasn't safe where he found his shelter, though when he thought he heard someones voice through the water very nearly pouring directly into his shell-less ears, he turned his head and squinted through the pouring rain. He could barely see on normal days and the rain only made it more difficult. Convinced his mind was playing tricks on him, Luce frowned and curled tighter around the root.

922/2500

"Speech!"

art © koiotes at dA & code © skelle 2022

Rowan was not, typically, the kind of person who would put himself in harm’s way for the sake of a stranger. He had been trained from birth to value his own skin most of all, and to never hesitate to use others if it meant any kind of advantage for him. Watching the ragged fur ball get plastered to the tree trunk with rain, he found it hard to rationalize any kind of advantage in stopping to help him. He looked too helpless to take care of himself, forget help build shelter, and even if he did help the shelter would only have to be that much larger. Rationally, Rowan knew he should let him drown. Maybe there was something different, something familiar about his silhouette, though from a distance and without scent he could be any white canine. Maybe it was fate. Of all the many things Rowan had grown uncertain of, he still believed in fate. The concept of destiny was too ingrained in him to ever be fully excised, even if he’d wanted it gone. Regardless of the reason, fate or coincidence, he abandoned his construction for the moment to cross the tangled bridge of roots. By the time he was at Lucian’s side, the rain was completely blinding. He could have been nose to nose with him and still not recognized him, it was hard enough just to keep track of his own paws through the storm. No time to spare, to introduce himself or to argue, Rowan moved immediately to grab the white wolf by the ruff, attempting to pry him from the root and pull him to his feet, intent on dragging him all the way back to shelter if he had to. “Follow me, now!” was all he said.

WC: 296
Total: 1218/2500

The storm was far to bad for even someone with perfect eyesight to see. He hadn't even seen the other approaching until he felt fangs in his scruff, lifting him from the pseudo-safety of his tree roots and causing him to yelp in surprise. He knew better than to fight against the threat of fangs in his scruff, his tiny and emaciated body curling up like a pup despite the weight of himself being far too much for his scruff to naturally support without pain. To say he was used to it was an understatement, however, though once the man demanded him to follow, he tried to open his eyes and squinted through the blinding storm through already near-blind sight. It was no use, so he whined.

"I-I can't s-s-see─I'm b-blind," he stammered in response to the strangely familiar voice muffled by his scruff, half expecting to be dropped and made to follow anyway, or just left behind and forced to suffer through it alone as he had been moments before. He wouldn't lie, he'd prefer someone help him, but if he died here today in this storm he wouldn't stop fate. Perhaps he wasn't meant to live a long life, as fate has already promised him that he wouldn't live a happy one. It would almost be a gift to be taken from it so soon, granted freedom from a long life of repeated failures.

1454/2500

"Speech!"

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Before he’d had time to really ponder or dread it, Rowan was slowly starting to realize that today might be the day he died. Not just in that vague, hypothetical way where any day could be the day he died, but that what he faced now was truly mortal danger. He’d thought that he would feel more alive in the moments before his death, more real, but instead everything had started to feel distant and dreamlike. He wasn’t even certain he could find his way back to his shoddy, half-built shelter now anyway. Rowan focused on the only thing he had left to focus on, the half-drowned rat of a creature dangling from his snout. All reason said he should have dropped the stranger and maybe have a chance at making it to tomorrow. Instead, he braced the both of them up against another knotted tree trunk, but only just long enough to crouch down and shimmy under his skeletal frame, hoisting him up on his shoulders like a bony carpet. As dilapidated as Rowan had become, he hadn’t wasted away entirely, and unlike his cargo he’d had body mass to lose in the first place. “Just hold on, then,” he said simply. It wasn’t as if he could see any better, but he knew the way there, and could trace the path in his head. It hadn’t been far, only a few trees over to where the roots formed a natural sort of staircase. The stranger’s body was upsettingly light at his back.

WC: 254
Total: 1708/2500

To say he was relieved to not be left behind was an understatement and Lucian was already planning on offering himself to them in whichever way that they felt necessary. There wasn't anything he hadn't already done before; servant, toy, punching bag... He'd done it all. This man would certainly deserve something for his trouble, and he'd let him have his pick. If he knew any better, he'd probably say this kind man was saving his life from this storm. Repaying the man with that life seemed like the best course of action, and whatever he wanted to do with him along the way was included. Whether the man wanted him around for a while or just a night would be his own decision though. He was used to not getting a say, and frankly he wasn't even sure he could formulate his own opinion anymore.

Suddenly, he was draped over the others back and instructed to hold on. A bit in shock from the action (not to mention the storm), it took the small man a moment to catch on to what he was told to do. Another mistake, probably, but as soon as he caught on he was quick to grip the man that was helping him. The storm drowned out most of their scents, but as he buried his face into his mans neck to shield himself from the sharp, dagger-like raindrops, he could've sworn the scent deep inside seemed familiar. He didn't get much time to think about it, however, as the man beneath him began to move. Lucian held on tightly, though his weak limbs could only do so much. The storm was powerful and he would feel himself start to slip as the man's shoulders and hips shifted though the strong wind and slippery rain weren't helping either, causing him to have to fix his positioning every few seconds to stay on.

2026/2500

"Speech!"

art © koiotes at dA & code © skelle 2022

The familiarity of his passenger was dawning on Rowan very, very slowly. The shape, the size, the missing parts. It was all coming together like a puzzle slotting into place, a picture becoming gradually clearer. Maybe he would have rescued anyone, put on the spot in the middle of a storm. But he didn’t think so. This was something else. There was a part of his identity that had been tied to Lucian since he’d first met him, a part that he had found impossible to excise in his absence. He had taken with him, in a way, all his potential to be better, to be more. Maybe it really was fate. It felt like it had to be a miracle that he found his way back to the half-assembled shelter, but pushing under the overhang took them out of the worst of the deluge. No time to waste, Rowan knelt and let the wet glob of fur slide off his back, man-handling him to his feet just to make sure he wasn’t about to slip and fall into the flood waters. Uselessly shaking the rain from his fur and face, heart hammering, he did his best to blink the rain water out of his eyes and focus. “I’ll pass you the debris, just shore up the holes,” Rowan instructed without a moment’s pause, immediately slipping back down the tree roots to gather mud and large, floating sticks. “You don’t have to see, just feel where the rain’s still coming in.”

WC: 251
Total: 2277/2500

It had felt like quite the journey atop the mans back, having to adjust himself every few steps just to hang on made the trip seem like forever. It truly was a miracle when they had arrived, the shift between the deluge of storm and the leaking water through the partly built shelter being night and day even to the near blind man. The growing-familiar man slumped him off his back and helped him to his paws before he feebly shook the water from his coat. It was a shimmy at best, enough to get some off but left him dripping anyway with it still coming in through the holes in what doubled as their ceiling.

He was much quicker to respond to the orders this time despite shivering from his drenched, thin coat and tired body. As the man moved to collect more mud, Luce squinted through the rain and positioned himself so that he could reach what he would be handed. He did his best attempting to block where the storm was getting in, pressing the concoction of mud and grass and sticks into the holes and packing them as tightly as he could manage without much sight or strength, though he was lucky to regain at least some of his sight with each and every hole that was patched. Once Lucian couldn't hear the storm coming into the shelter anymore, he sighed and slumped his tired body down and sighed. "There, I-I-I think we g-got it," he stammered, his voice weak as he called out.

2535/2500

"Speech!"

art © koiotes at dA & code © skelle 2022

This was it, his survival hinged entirely on whether or not this other wolf could perform competently. He hadn’t meant for it to be like this, if he’d meant for it to be anything at all. Maybe he’d fancied himself a big damn hero. It didn’t matter, the reality of the situation was that he was stuck relying on someone else now in a way he’d never done before. It was terrifying, nauseating- honestly, he thought he might really be going into shock from the fear of it all, the storm and this wolf who made him feel something he’d been trying so desperately to escape he’d forgotten he was running from it. But there was no time now to do anything but work, the motions becoming automatic as his shaky companion fell into step with him. He was drowning in doubt and displaced ocean water, but the world, brutal as it was, spared him just enough softness to survive. By the time Lucian announced their success, Rowen felt like he was more mud than wolf. The flooding chased his tail as he ascended one last time, hauling himself up the tree roots and hunkering down shoulder to shoulder in the tiny nook of safety they’d constructed together. He wanted to say something, but the persistent ringing in his head had grown to a cacophony now, and the headache that came with it no longer a dull buzz but a sharp ache. He wanted more than anything to sleep, but there would be no rest until the storm had passed. “What’s your name?” Rowan finally demanded, without offering his own. Then delayed, like an afterthought, he added, “...Thanks.”

It may have been cramped in the shelter they had molded, but it was better than nothing and he wouldn't admit that he did appreciate having another warm body to curl up against, even if only for now or for the night. It was when the man pulled himself up from the underneath that he could see through his squinted eyes and really tell who it was that had saved him.

Rowan.

The name came to him faster than anything had before, but it left him speechless for a few moments until the all too familiar man hunkered down beside him, their shoulders touching. His name was demanded from him a moment later, stunning the near blind and tiny man even more. How had he not recognized him? Maybe he was wrong thinking it was the same young man that had been so kind to him when the scrutinizing eyes of his father weren't watching, but no. Lucian knew this was Rowan.

"R-rowan?" his soft voice was questioning despite how certain of himself he was that it was the same man, pale face and gaze turning towards the warmed hued man and squinting to focus.

"Speech!"

art © koiotes at dA & code © skelle 2022

It was like waking up from a dream, only in reverse. Unreality pulled at him, disparate facts suddenly lined up like stars in a constellation, the image clear, the facts irrefutable. He couldn’t un-see, couldn’t un-know, and now that he did he felt stupid for not realizing all along. Of all the conflicting emotions in his chest, the one he recognized most clearly was shame. What was the source? Lucian? Often he’d felt ashamed in regards to Lucian, but almost never had he been the cause of it. Maybe it was guilt then, instead, guilt at what he could or could not have done. Rowan bit down all of it, a cocky smirk breaking the exhaustion from his features, if only for a moment. He was so used to the way his name sounded on his father’s tongue that he’d truly forgotten how differently it could be pronounced, how soft the sounds could be. It sounded alien to hear it again after so long, like it was someone else’s name, someone he’d known, but a long, long time ago. “What, you don’t know your own name?” he said mirthlessly. There was a smile on his face, sure, but nothing in his tone, nothing in his gaze, not even ice, just a vacant lack of recognition. He wanted to lie and claim he was someone else- or maybe he just wanted to be someone else. He’d ran away for reason, for change, and he’d changed- but he couldn’t remember what for. All this, and he felt the irony of his life being what it was, he’d probably still drown. At least drowning would spare him the awkwardness of this so-called ‘reunion.’ Around them, the sky roared its displeasure, wind shaking their artificial walls, shaking the trees themselves, but the structure held and they didn’t get much wetter than they’d already been. They had to raise their voices just to be heard, and already he could feel himself growing hoarse. “I thought you’d be dead by now,” he said, reluctantly resisting the urge to lie about his name, if only because he didn’t have another one in mind.

He didn't need a confirmation from the man to know it was him. Everything was adding up now; the familiar scent buried deep in his scruff, the same voice deepened by maturity, and the soft tawny coat that he used to find comfort in. Even now he wanted to press closer to the other male, as if all those bad times hadn't happened, as if he hadn't been punished and forced away before.

To anyone else, his name would be whatever they wanted it to be. Now would be no different, despite assuming the man to call him nothing other than what he'd always gone by. "Y-you should know that's y-your ch-choice," he let out, his stammering syncing in time with his shivering as he first looked down frown the now grown man's face (that he found quite handsome, even through his poor vision) and then turned his head to look at his own paws.

When Rowan spoke again, he couldn't help but agree. He thought that he'd be dead too, and he'd be lying if he said part of him didn't wish that he was. "Me, too."

"Speech!"

art © koiotes at dA & code © skelle 2022

There was a lump growing in Rowan’s throat that he didn’t have a name for. He wanted it to be anger, he was so used to choking down anger that it came as easily as breathing. But no, if he was angry at anybody right now it was only himself. Guilt stewed in his chest, thick and viscous as tar and dripping through his veins with every beat of his pounding heart. To top it off, his mouth had suddenly gone incredibly dry, making talking even more awkward than it already was. Rowan just laughed and shrugged, flippantly masking his racing thoughts and twisted gut with forced casual body language, shoulders loose, head tilted to the side just enough that he didn’t have to strain to look at him. That was Lucian alright. Not just any drowned rat, but his drowned rat. Not that Lucian belonged to him, anymore. Not that he should. Right? “Lucian is good enough, then,” he said. He wanted to say, I’m glad you’re not dead. He wanted to say, I looked for you. If anything, Lucian should hate him now, or- no, probably he should’ve hated him all along. Whatever they’d had, whatever they’d ever been, he’d probably only gone along with it because he had to. Now that both of them were nobody, Lucian should have been laughing right in his face. Karmic justice, or whatever. “Either way, you can’t use ‘Rowan,’ that’d just be confusing,” he grumbled, unable to make the weak joke sound lighthearted.

Lucian had never questioned whether or not he felt safe when they had been alone together before and now was no different. Pressed shoulder to shoulder with the other man, even in the middle of a hurricane he felt safer than he ever had. He held himself back from scooting closer to the blond man, searching for the comfort that he once felt when they'd shared space before. He knew better than to believe anything existed between them anymore, if it ever really had, but even if everything had been a lie or his imagination, that didn't stop the feeling of security he felt just being with Rowan.

His joke might have been weak, but it brought a smile to the smaller mans face anyway. "I've missed you, Rowan." His voice was soft, but he meant what he said even if he shouldn't. "You saved my life today..." he trailed off in a murmur as if it had just dawned on him. Pale eyes searched for Rowans face as he finally allowed himself to scoot even closer. "Thank you," he finally said, gaze quickly falling to his paws. Would Rowan want a reward? He wouldn't be the first and although he couldn't say that he would mind repaying him, part of him hoped that Rowan was truly different than all his other masters.

"Speech!"

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