Song of the Wolves · 7:12am Dec 24th, 2013
Please leave a comment telling me what you think of this fic.
Ok, before we begin I would like to take a minute of your time.
Please take a seat.
If you were already sitting, please stand up and then take a seat.
Now, if you are lying down, then you must have made a mistake. Please stand back up, and try again.
Are we all sitting? Yes! Well done. Have a cookie.
Now, seeing that we are all sitting and are well fed, I would like to take a moment to tell you about this next story.
Seeing the popularity of Wulf in the gift chapter I made for Cyneryk, I thought it funny to write something more with our furry friend in the spotlights.
But seeing that Wulf has a rather.. exotic speech, he will speak with standard English. Think of it as a real time translation every time he speaks. This is to prevent people falling from their chairs, couches or other pieces of furniture when all that strange language appears on their screen.
If this piece of news caused you to fall off your chair, couch, or other piece of furniture from shock, please stand up and retake your seat.
Ok, welcome back.
This tale will delve deeper into Wulf's past. Who he was, and how he became what he is. Of course this also means there will be a distinct lack of ponies, seeing that Wulf didn't meet those until later in his post-life. But there might be subtle, and maybe not so subtle references.
So, please stand up, and get seated for this tale of interest. And please, wipe away those crumbs. We can't have Wulf get distracted, and it would be really difficult to explain to the other readers why our friendly wolf is hanging out of someone's screen licking the crumbs off of his face.
What? You think that won't happen!?
Trust me.
Wulf has certain skills.
Skills he developed through his years as a ghost.
He will find you, and he will lick you.
You have been warned.
Aaaand he just fell off his chair from shock.
Yes you, come on, you're holding everyone up.
Sit down.
…
Sit.
Good boy.
Have a cookie.
OK, are we ready?
Eh, crumbs!
Good. Here we go!
<<>><<>><<>>
Song of the wolves.
<<>><<>><<>>
We all know about those two worlds.
Worlds connected through supernatural means, interacting with each other.
Earth.
World of the humans. Home to vast amounts of creatures. A place filled with life both big and small. A place that is plagued by the dead. The dead that come from the other world. Although they call it a zone.
The ghost zone.
A place filled with dead and destruction. A place where wandering souls come if they choose to stay behind. A place they come when they turn their backs to the choice given to them in Purgatory. And a place where ghost have the chance to be just that. Ghosts.
There are also rumors about another world. A prophecy about a place filled with various mythical creatures, all of them possessing vast amounts of mysterious powers. And the promise that a ghost will one day find it.
But this is not that day, nor is this story going to take place in that world.
No. Our tale happens someplace entirely different. A place that very few know about. A place that can only be accessed through one of the many doors found in the ghost zone.
Our story happens on this unknown world, a very long time ago.
So, please take a seat as I show you the way to this strange place.
Now stand up, and follow me as we take step through this scary door. A door that leads us too:
Firosina.
<<>><<>><<>>
The howling wind coursed through a desolate valley. A thick pack of snow covering the green gras. There are some lone trees here and there, and some small animals frolicking in the virgin snow.
One of these animals, a small white rabbit, was moving through the white powder with seemingly no direction. He hopped to one spot, stopped, and sniffed the air. Then the process repeated. Small clouds of hot air came from his nose every time, the only thing that gave him away, as his white coat blended in perfectly with the white landscape.
*Crunch*
His ears perked up as he heard the faint sound, swiveling around in an attempt to find the location it came from.
Unable to pin-point the location, he poked up his head and looked around.
Puffs of hot air swirled up around him as his breath came out in short, fast bursts. He knew something was out there, something was always out there. But where?
*Crunch*
There it was again, coming from behind him.
Quickly he turned around, facing whatever it was that tried to sneak up behind him.
Nothing, there was nothing, but the vast emptiness of the snow covered valley. Nothing, except a small patch of dark grass sticking out the snow.
He was weary. He knew there was something. But here was something to eat, something he has been looking for ever since he woke up. Food was hard to find during the cold time, and darkness would settle in faster than normal. He needed food if he was to survive, and here was just that, even though it didn't look all that fresh. But food is food, and he wasn't going to walk away from that.
Carefully he made his way to the small patch of brown grass, it must have dried up some time ago. Halfway to his objective, he stopped to sniff the air again. Small clouds formed in the air, and lazily lifted in the air where they faded away. He didn't smell anything, but that didn't mean he could let his guard down. It was survival of the fittest here, especially during the cold time, and he was determined not to make some stupid mistake that would get him killed.
Slowly, methodically, he made his way to the brown tuft of dried up moving grass.
Wait… Moving!
The world exploded around him as he was lifted up in the air, snow flying all around him. In an act of nothing more than pure instinct he twisted and turned in the air, positioning himself so that, when he hit the ground, he would be able to run away as fast as he could.
*Graaawrr*
A mildly intimidating, and young growl called out as a small pup, a wolf of no more than several cold times old, burst out of his snowy hiding place. Eagerly clawing and grasping at his prey, trying to catch the elusive rabbit before he got away.
The rabbit hit the ground, and quickly started to run away in a zigzag pattern. The pup saw this, and tried to jump tackle his prey with every turn it took.
The rabbit turned, and the pup jumped, only to land mere moments too late as the rabbit had turned and ran to the other side. This repeated for several moments, and each time the pup got closer and closer to his prey.
But it was not meant to be, as the rabbit found his burrow and quickly dug in in the safety of its home.
"Ow poop." the pup muttered as he swatted at the snow, leaving behind small claw marks.
"Hahahahahaha!"
laughter sounded from all around him, and, one by one, several wolves stood up, revealing themselve to the young pup.
"Hahaha. That was truly an entertaining sight young one, but you have still much to learn." Bodolf, the pack's alpha said.
The pup looked down in shame for his failings, not meeting the eyes of his elder.
"Wulf, look at me." Bodolf said.
Wulf did as he was told, but the look of submission was all to clear in his eyes as he looked at the giant towering over him.
That was a real wolf, with his grey fur, and large claws. His form showed though muscles earned from many years of hardship, and the scars that came with them. Power radiated off of him, and Wulf was humbled by it.
This was a real wolf, and he was not.
His head hung down before he even knew it, unable to meet his superiors eyes.
"Wulf." he said as he placed his paw under the pup's chin, lifting his head. "Why did you fail?" he asked.
΅Because I am weak." came the quiet response.
"Weak? Really. How so?"
"My prey… My kill… It got away."
"So it did. But that doesn't make you weak, it makes you slow."
Wulf's ears sunk even lower, and a look of disappointment showed in his brown eyes.
"But weak you are not." he finished, making Wulf perked up a bit, eager to hear what his elder would say next.
"To jump around like that shows that you have strong muscles in the making." he said amused, "But you are still young, and have very much to learn." he added without a hint of humor.
"Next time Wulf, and there will be a next time, cover your tail." he said.
Wulf looked shocked at that, and turned to look at his tail.
"I'm an idiot!" Wulf murmured as he hung his head.
"You are young, nothing more. Now pick yourself up, darkness is coming soon, and the pack is moving back to the village."
"Yes… Father."
Wulf said as he slowly followed the great grey wolf. not meeting his gaze for the rest of that night.
<<>><<>><<>>
In the days following his failed hunt, Wulf took it onto himself to become faster. Whenever the pack was not moving, and the weather was not hostile, he spend his time running and training his reflexes. The other pups in the pack would join him, and together they would go through various forms of crudely made obstacle courses, honing their abilities.
It was hard. It was tiring. It was absolutely nothing compared with the things they would go through in the future, but they are pups, and they often exaggerate things.
They would chase each other in fake hunts. Learning, and training to be as fast on their paws as they could be, and to better their reflexes. They would zigzag around trees, rocks, and other large obstacles, all the while trying to take down their "prey". All of them took turn to be this prey, and it did prove to be an even harder challenge for them than it was to be the predator.
As a predator they needed to be fast and strong, yes. But they also needed to be stealthy, learning to blend in into the environment. But as a prey, things didn't always work like that. Sure, they needed to be fast to escape the eager grasping and clawing of their hunters, and be just as agile if they wanted to escape. But in order to play the prey, they needed to act as such, and this was not as easy as it sounded. A predator pretending to be prey, it went against their instincts. But they didn't let that stop them. And ever so slowly, they would become more adept in both the acts of predator and prey.
In the months that they practiced, they became faster, stronger, and more cunning. Still not as much as any of the elders, whose knowledge and experience would be more than any of them combined, but still, it was improvement.
The knowledge they gained by playing the prey, also taught them to think as one, to act as one, and it helped them in the hunts that followed.
With each hunt, their technique had improved slightly. And with each time, they came closer and closer with claiming their first kill.
Of course it would be several more moons before they would be adept enough to be actual useful with the hunt, but the elders couldn't help but look at their young ones with a sense of pride. They were growing. They were learning. And someday, sooner than the playing pups would realize, they would lead the pack during their hunt.
And one elder in particular, a large grey wolf with many hard earned scars, looked with pride at his growing son.
It was a mere day after his prey escaped him that he took it on him to better himself. It even inspired the other pups to join him. They all watched as their young practiced, and, more than often, made a complete and utter mess of things. It provided quite the amusement from time to time, something that was hard to find during the frozen times, but all of them could see the conviction in their young eyes, and the will to become better.
The elder growled happily. His son showed the same kind of dedication he has, and it even inspired others. One day his son would be as strong as he is. And, with time, he might take over as the alpha of the pack. To take the responsibility he now carried with him.
One day, perhaps.
Only time would tell.
<<>><<>><<>>
The time of Snow and ice was coming to an end. It had taken several long months, and even longer times of darkness. But finally the world was slowly awaking to the warmth the new sun provided. Patches of green poked up through the receding snow, and the first leaves started to appear on the trees. The gentle dripping of the melting snow and ice that fell down from the many trees acted as an wakeup call for the many sleeping animals. One of which, a snow white rabbit, carefully poked his head up out of his burrow. There was still plenty of snow to help him hide, but it was dwindling fast. In time, his snow white fur would only draw attention to him during the warm time.
A small growl came from his stomach, and he knew he needed to get out there and find something to eat. Calmly hopping out of his home, he paused a moment to stretch himself out, while yawning loudly, for a rabbit at least. Quickly shaking his body from head to toe, he fluffed up his fur, trapping a layer of air in between the hairs, acting as insulation for the cold air that was only just starting to warm up.
Swirling his ears around, and sniffing the air for any signs of danger, he began a slow hop to a new patch of green he spotted not too far away from his burrow. It was fortunate for him that the first patches of food would grow in so close to his burrow, as it would give him a quick escape if any predator would show up.
He knew he needed to be careful, especially after the last time. It was a combination of luck, and inexperience from his hunter, that he had gotten away last time. It was a close call for him, but he still needed to eat, and there was a hungry wolf outside of his burrow. He knew he needed to wait it out, but it was difficult. By the time he felt it safe to go outside again darkness had already begun. And the hunger in his belly almost made him go out during the darkness to find something to eat. He didn't, of course. It would have killed him if he did. But the hunger only made it impossible for him to sleep, and the next day was a difficult one for him.
He survived, yes. But he was more careful now. He would take no more risk than was necessary. And now, he wouldn't have to take any at all.
If he was able to, he would show a happy smile as he sniffed the young, fresh grass. Seeing the glistening of the early sunlight in the moisture on the blades of grass, and the gentle sway caused by a slight breeze.
He wanted to savour this moment, to take the time and fully take in the beauty of such lush green grass. After such a long time with barely an food at all, this was a true feast. But his hunger won out, and he dove down on the patch of green as a rabbit possesed.
His eyes widened after the first bite, an explosion of flavour assaulting his tastebuds. For a moment he thought that he heard an angelic choir as the sun shone down on him, only to find out that the sounds were merely his happy squeals of joy. He was so enraptured he was in the first taste of proper food, that he didn't realize that his squeals were drawing the attention of some old acquaintance. Someone he would rather not meet again.
<<>><<>><<>>
Wulf slowly crept towards his prey, careful to stay low, and not to make any sound. He had trained for many months with his packmates, and he was sure he was ready to claim his first kill. His ancestors of long past must have agreed, seeing that the prey he was stalking was the very same rabbit that had managed to escape last time. He was given a new chance, and by his ancestors, he would not fail again.
Every step he took was slow and calculated. Every breath he took was carefully controlled, lest he gave him away by breathing too loud. He made sure the wind was against him, so his smell would blow away from his prey, not towards it. His eyes, locked on his prey, also scoured the terrain between him and his prize. Finding, and identifying anything that could make a noise, and should be avoided.
He was slow, not wanting to rush things like he did last time. He would take as long as was necessary. He would not make the same mistake twice.
Carefully he lifted his paw, and placed it on a small patch of snow, taking his next step.
*Snap*
Wulf flinched as he pressed himself flat against the ground, staying out of sight as he watched his prey look around, trying to find the source of the sound.
For a long, tense minute, all the rabbit did was look around, swiveling his ears around in search of the disturbance. But, being unable to find anything, he resumed his feast on the newly emerging green grass.
Wulf gave a silent thanks of relief, his prey had not spotted him. Slowly lifting his paw, he saw a snapped twig lying in the disturbed snow he had just stepped on. Sloppy. He should have made sure nothing was lying underneath the treacherous white stuff.
Scolding himself for almost giving himself away, Wulf continued his path to the small bounty of fresh meat. Carefully making sure no more unwanted surprises lay under the cover of snow. Slowly moving in for the kill.
<<>><<>><<>>
The rabbit was happily munching on a mouthful of green. Barely taking the time to swallow, before the next batch of heavenly grass would dance around over his tongue. For a moment he closed his eyes, taking a moment to truly enjoy his meal. It was a mistake that would cost him.
The moment he opened his eyes again, he noticed that it had become darker. Not as much as when darkness would fall, but darker still. With an audible gulp, he swallowed his mouthful. And, dreadfully, he turned around.
A high pitched squeak was the last sound he made as a mouthful of sharp teeth closed around his throat.
<<>><<>><<>>
Wulf could feel his prey still struggle in his mouth, desperately trying to escape. Not that it would do him any good. The wound Wulf had inflicted on him was more than severe, and the ground slowly turned red as the rabbits blood seeped out of Wulf's mouth. Wulf knew he had to end it, fast. So, with all the strength he had in his jaw, he bit down on the rabbit's neck, breaking it, and ending his misery.
For a moment Wulf just stood there, letting the full sensation of what he had just done come to him as the taste of fresh blood filled his mouth.
He had done it. Finally he had done it. His first kill. He had claimed his first kill.
Wulf heard quiet footsteps coming from behind him. He knew who it was, and he knew that his father was making that much noise because he was not trying to hide.
Quickly turning around, Wulf looked up at his father with a happy, prideful look in his eyes as the rabbit hung out of his blood covered mouth.
"A quick and clean kill." He growled proudly.
"Eat son, before it goes to waste."
Bodolf looked at his son with pride as he took the first bite from the prey he claimed. It was a first step towards adulthood, and he knew that coming darkness Wulf would take the next.
<<>><<>><<>>
In the slowly emerging darkness, spreading over the land like a thick blanket, two wolves walked side by side. One a large, powerful wolf, the other a young, still growing pup.
Bodolf and Wulf were walking over a well traveled path towards a nearby hill. It was a sacred place to them, as it was to all wolves. It was connected with more history and meaning than one could ever experience in one lifetime, and every wolf knew it. They knew it, even if the didn't understand it.
Wulf could feel a strong connection with the place his father was leading him to, but he didn't know why. He was never before allowed here, just as all the other pups in his pack. He had many questions, but he didn't dare ask them, sensing that now he needed to be quiet.
They still had a long way to go though, and the silence was wearing at him. But he kept following his father, silent, obedient.
"Tell me Wulf, do you remember the tale of our ancestors?" Bodolf asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Eh… I do." Wulf said hesitantly, not sure what that tale had to do with this.
"Tell me!" Boldolf said.
"Tell you?" Wulf said confused.
"Tell me!" he repeated.
"Eh.. ok?"
<<>><<>><<>>
Long ago, long before any of the wolves joined in the tribes that exist today, there were three wolves.
Nuntis, the sun wolf. His coat was said to be snow white and his eyes were a deep red, burning with the fire of the sun.
Sköll, the sunchaser. His coat was a golden brown, representing the ground we live on. And his eyes were a deep blue, like the sky.
And Fenris, the wolf that guided the sun into darkness. His coat was a deep black with matching eyes, a clear indication of his status.
These wolves, these brothers, lived in a violent world. A world they were tasked to guide and protect. A world divided by the Kadzait, the wandering wolves. The Kadzait would move from place to place, causing nothing but death and destruction all across Guadalupe, the wolf valley.
Each day Nuntis would bring forth the sun, and see the damage done by the Kadzait. And each time he would weep for those who lost their lives. It is said his eyes would cry the blood of the innocents that had died during the darkness.
Sköll, the sunchaser, would shepherd the sun through the sky, and his paws would soak up the blood of the victims slain by the Kadzait. Each step he took was painted red, and with each step his anger grew towards the cowardly Calebs.
And Fenris, he who brought forth the darkness in which we sleep, felt a hate burn in his chest that could rival the sun itself. Each time he would guide the sun down, and each time he would set the stage in which the Kadzait could perform their horrible acts.
All three of them watched as the Kadzait claimed more and more victims, never stopping, never sparing anyone. They vanished each time the sun would come up, and they would reappear when darkness came back.
Nuntis and Sköll, the two wolves that worked in the light of day, never saw the events happen. They only saw the results. But Fenris, he saw everything, he heard everything. And he decreed: "no more!"
The next time darkness would come, Fenris would stay in waiting. Waiting for those cowardly Kadzait to show up.
They never saw him coming, the wolf that brought forth the darkness, with fur just as dark.
The fight was immense, devastating, and bloody. Fenris showed no remorse, and he slayed Kadzait after Kadzait. It is said that the cries of the Kadzait that were slain during this darkness could still be heard on the winds.
The next day Nuntis brought forth the sun, and he and Sköll looked in horror as they saw their brother, surrounded by the bodies of the Kadzait, standing in a pool of their blood. His fur was drenched with the blood of his kills, turning it into a deep crimson, and his eyes, while always black, looked even more dark than they had ever done before.
Fenris looked at his brothers, blood dripping of his body. He could see the fear in their eyes, and their disgust. Disgust to their brother for doing such a thing.
For it was their task to guide the creature of this world, but not like this. They were not allowed to intervene directly, and Fenris had broken that rule. They were angry with him, disgusted by what he had done. But they didn't say anything as he returned to his spot amongst them. They didn't say anything, because they also understood.
It was a mistake that would cost them dearly.
Each time Fenris would bring forth the darkness. And each time he would lay in wait for any of the kadzait that had survived the previous time of dark. And with each time Fenris bloodlust would grow. His fur, once black as the dark sky above, was now a deep crimson, permanently stained with the blood of his enemies.
His brothers would try to calm him down, to make him see reason. But their words fell on deaf ears, as the bloodlust had slowly changed Fenris. Once he was a Adoff, a noble wolf. But his rage had made him into a Vritra, a creature of evil.
Nuntis and Sköll decided that they could no longer stay on the sidelines, and that direct intervention was needed. But when Nuntis tried to call out the sun, and bring an end to yet another darkness of bloodshed, he found that the sun was no longer listening to him. Fenris rage had corrupted him, and with it, the darkness he commanded. It had spread out far and wide, stretching out to the sun itself, consuming it with darkness.
Fenris was no more, consumed by his own rage. A rage that brought forth Fenrir, the monster that consumed the sun. The name was similar, a mere letter in difference, but the meaning would be altered just as he was.
Nuntis and Sköll begged their brother to come to reason, to let go of the sun. But his hunger for blood was insatiable, and he refused. He told them that the darkness would last as long as there was a single Kadzait left alive. And, if they tried to stop him, they too shall perish.
Nuntis and Sköll knew then that they had to stop their brother, and what the cost would be. Together they fought Fenrir, sustaining grave injuries as they did so. Fenrir was a monster born from combat and bloodshed, and he knew how to fight. While Nuntis and Sköll were not. They were warrior, yes. But they had lived a life of peace, vowing to never harm a living being. They were not experienced in the ways of the battlefield, and they would have died, if it was not for the actions of a single wolf.
Kiyiya, the howling wolf.
The first ancestor of our clan. The Faoiltiama that would form the tribes that exist today.
She managed to get through to Fenrir. Not by talking, or fighting. But by mourning. She mourned the wolves that died by the actions of the Kadzait. And she mourned the victims of Fenrir.
Her howl pierced the heavens, and the moon, hidden from view by a dark dense fog, would show itself for the first time after a long time of pure dark times. Its light hit Fenrir, and the howl of grief pierced his soul. For the first time in a long time, Fenrir saw what he had done, what he had become.
He saw his blood soaked fur as the light of the moon shone onto it. He could see the bodies of his victims lying scattered around Guadalupe. And he saw his brothers. Bloodied and broken. Wounds inflicted on them by his own claws.
Anger rose up in him once more. But this time, it was anger towards himself. An anger fueled by guilt, shame, regret and sorrow.
Again he heard the howl of Kiyiya. A sound so sad, and yet so pure, it changed him.
With all the force he had, Fenrir joined in on the howl. Calling out to the souls of those that died. Calling out to the souls of those that he killed.
Nuntis and Sköll, injured as they were, lend their voices to the call of the dark. Calling out to the souls that had passed on to the next world.
Eventually Nuntis, Sköll and Kiyiya ran out of air, and they let the last of their howl die out on the wind. But Fenrir, pushed by guilt, would perform one last act as shepherd of the darkness. Using all the strenght he had left, he performed what we now name: The call of the ancestors. A howl so loud, it pierced through the very being of any that heard it. With it he called out to the spirits of the next world, asking them to forgive him. To take away the burden that he brought onto himself, and to release the sun from his grasp.
He howled as the blood that had stained his fur flowed off of him, drenching the ground.
He howled as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, covering the valley in a deep red. The color of the blood he had spilled.
He howled as the darkness started to fade, and with it, himself as well.
And he howled for his brothers, who, because of his actions, would remain behind, forced to act without him.
Finally Fenrir ran out of air, and with the last remains of his fading eyes, he looked at his brothers.
Nuntis and Sköll watched with sorrow as they saw their brother fade away. The price to be payed for his sins. The last they saw of him before he completely vanished were his eyes. Two black orbs, looking at them with regret.
Yet, it is said that in the last moments, just before his eyes vanished, a flash of green showed in them. They say that this light was the light of the spirits that he had angered. And that he would be cursed to roam aimlessly through a barren wasteland for all eternity.
Nuntis and Sköll were left behind after their brother was gone. They were now tasked to take on the role as shepherd of the darkness. A task they were never meant to perform. A task they took on to the best of their abilities. A task they continue to do to this day.
And Kiyiya.
She would call out to the moon each dark time. Calling out to the souls lost, mourning them in song.
<<>><<>><<>>
Wulf finished talking, and he found himself standing at the foot of a large hill.
"Come." his father instructed as he started the climb up.
"Father. Why did I had to tell that tale?" Wulf asked with a quiet voice as he walked behind his father.
"Because of the meaning behind it."
Wulf looked at his father, cocking his head in confusion as he tried to figure out what he meant.
"Meaning?... But isn't it just a story?"
"No Wulf, it is not." Bodolf answered as he came to a sudden stop, making Wulf walk into him.
"This tale has been passed down from generation to generation. It is the tale of the beginning of what we are now. And the lesson we should learn."
"Lesson?"
"Wulf. when you claimed your first kill, what did you feel?"
"Pride." Wulf answered without a seconds thought.
"Pride…. For what?" his father asked in a low tone as he looked up at the moon.
"...Pride for catching and killing my prey." Wulf said hesitantly, getting the feeling that he had done something wrong.
"Wulf. We are a proud race, yes. We take pride in many things. A hunt done properly, or a good fight between rivals. We take pride in watching our cana and Canagan play and grow, and seeing them become the great wolves we know they can be. We take pride in many things, but never in claiming a life."
"..Bu… But.. I thought th-" Wulf stammered.
"You thought that killing another creature is reason to be proud. That is normal, we all do with our first kill. That is why you are here. You are here for Chanteloup." Bodolf said with a gentle tone as he looked down at the confused face of his son.
"Chanteloup?"
"Yes, Chanteloup. The song of the wolf. Just like Kiyiya did when she first mourned the dead, so shall you call out to the spirit of your kill. His death was tragic, but necessary. His flesh fed you, and for that you need to thank him. Thanking him for the gift of food shows you are more than a wild animal acting on instinct. To do anything less, would be an insult to your prey, and your ancestors. Killing a prey gives you no pride. But thanking them will."
Wulf could only stare at his father as his words settled in. Killing a prey is nothing to be proud of, but thanking them for their death is? Wulf was confused, and his father could see it on him.
"Come, it will all make sense soon enough."
Wulf watched his father continue the climb up the hill. And, for a moment, his brain faltered to register that he himself was still standing on the same spot. With a small yelp, Wulf sprinted to close the gap between himself and his father.
Together they emerged on top of the hill, and Wulf could see several other wolves from his pack sitting in a crude circle. There was Gunnolf, one of the pack's best fighters, and his daughter Seff. There was Ulf, his name was given to him for various feats of courage. And with him was his son Udolph, meaning wind. They said they named him as such because of the howling wind that blew through the land the day he was born, but all the Cana and Canagan would say it was because of a different kind of 'wind' that gave him his name.
To his right, Wulf saw Varg, and his son Amarog. And next to them Wulf saw Bardalph and Bleidd.
Wulf knew Amarog, Bleidd, Seff and Ulf all too well. They trained together, trying to better themselves. Wulf did wonder why they were here as well, but, seeing that his father brought him here because he claimed his first kill could be the answer. Wulf knew his pack brothers and sister have also claimed their first kill during the hunt. Were they here for the same reason?
"Brothers." Bodolf called out in greeting, "I see you are already here."
"Indeed we are." Gunnolf said with a smirk, "Some of us know when to be on time."
"Ha, look who's talking." Ulf barked, baring his fangs in a mocking threat. "Who was it that forgot to meet up with his Faoiltiama several weeks ago?"
"I heard he was forced to sleep in a ditch for a whole week because of that." Bardalph added with a grin, seeing the embarrassed look on his pack brother's face.
"Th- That was different." Gunnolf said with a stutter, "I was hold up in battle wi-"
"With a mighty bear, and you were blinded by the sun in your eyes." Bodolf finished completely serious as he stared his pack brother in the eyes, "That is how it went, didn't it?"
"Ehe.. Yes, exactly like that."
"Well, it must have been a tiring fight, seeing how I saw you sleep in the shade of the great tree mere moment before your supposed rendezvous with a certain Faoiltiama." Bodolf said without a hint of humor. But after seeing the shocked face of his brother, he completely lost it, and the air filled with his uproaring laughter.
The others in the group also lost their composure at the embarrassment of Gunnolf, and their laughter filled the darkening sky.
"Oh kwa ajili kutomba!" Gunnolf muttered as his ears flattened on his head and he shot a dark look at Bodolf.
Wulf could only share a confused look with the other pups there, as they didn't fully understand what their fathers were laughing about. Safe for Seff, who looked at her father with an accusing glance.
"But enough of that!" Bodolf stated as the laughter died down, "We are here for more important matters."
The others murmured their agreement as they straightened themselves, all humor forgotten as the seriousness of the situation was brought to their attention once more.
"Wulf, please step forward." Bodolf instructed, as the others did the same with their pups.
All five pups stood in a crude circle, confusion evident on their faces as the looked at one another.
"Long ago," Bodolf began, "Long before we were joined together in the tribes and packs we are today, we too were prey. Prey to the Kadzait. Prey to the mindless beasts that dared to call themselves wolfs. The killed, and the slaughtered, upsetting the balance between life and death. This unbalance became their undoing, as it brought forth the monster Fenrir. Fenrir killed the Kadzait, but at the price of his own soul." Bodolf took a moment to take a breath, before continuing.
"This land. Our land. The land we share with so many others. It would have been lost to the darkness. A darkness started by the Kadzait, and a darkness fueled by the rage of Fenrir."
"It was by the calling of Kiyiya that Fenrir was reminded of his task, and the balance he was supposed to uphold. It is because of Kiyiya that we even exist today. We owe her our very lives, and for that we must thank her." Bodolf spoke, and Wulf, Amarog, Bleidd, Seff and Ulf could only look up at him with a sense of wonder.
"We thank her by remembering. We remember what she did, and we will do so by continuing her legacy. Her legacy we now call: Chanteloup!" All the adults said as one.
"The song of the wolves!" Bodolf finished as he looked down on the pups before him.
"We remember our ancestors." Gunnolf said.
"And the once that shaped us in what we are today." Ulf added.
"And most importantly." Varg continued.
"We remember those who died so we can live on." Bardalph finished.
"All of you claimed your first kill, and you feasted on their flesh." Bodolf told the pups sitting before him, "Now you must perform Chanteloup, and call out to them. Thank them, remember them. Honor them." And with that, Bodolf threw his head back, and let loose a loud wail. The other adults joining him in their song mere moments later.
The world was lost to Wulf as the sound of Chanteloup took hold of him. It called out to him, it connected with him, it took hold of his soul. And in that instant, he understood. Wulf could feel something stir in his chest, and his heart sped up. His breathing became more rapid as his lungs demanded more and more air, making his chest rise and fall with great heaves. Wulf understood, but didn't know just yet what was happening to him, and he tried to keep it contained. But it was a losing battle.
Acting in nothing more than the most primal of instinct, Wulf threw back his head, and let loose a howl of his own, joining his father and pack brothers and sister in their song.
Calling out to the moon above. Calling out to the ancestors of long past. Calling out to the spirit of his kill. Remembering them. Thanking them.
Honoring them.
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Powerdrainer.
Thank you for writing cantaloupe instead of howl. I'm so happy to see that someone else also knows the proper term for that action, every other fan-fic I have read got it wrong but you did not, obviously, and for that I salute you.
Pre means before, so your pre-life is the time before you were alive. You meant the time after his life was over and he was a ghost, so that's 'post-life'... yeah, I'm not following the story for it's technical merits.
1645700 Thanks for the correction.