“Come on now, Khan, we can try and find something when I get back,” Leper told the much younger lycan as he continued to whine while licking his lips. “You scared off the deer anyways, so it’s your own bloody fault.”
The two lycan were standing in the dining room currently, and for the first time since he had built the room, he was glad he had gone for a ceiling higher up. Originally a miscalculation, he had accidentally made the ceiling ten spans up instead of eight, but with the newest addition to the coven, he knew if it had been its original size, the poor lycan wouldn’t be able to sit upright correctly. Sighing in defeat at Khan’s persistent, high-pitched whining as the young lycan watched Leper packing the small amount of meat in their storage, he tossed a strip to him.
“I swear, you’re going to be the death of us next winter with your kind of appetite,” Leper informed him, taking the moment of peace provided by the other lycan devouring the offering. “Seriously, we have to get you back into your pony form before you deplete the entire forest. How did you even survive in a pack to begin with?”
As expected, the lycan didn’t receive a response, just an innocent tilt to the large head of his charge. Rolling his eyes at the oblivious nature of their newest coven member, he shut the burlap sack and tired the cords tightly. Even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything if the young guy got too hungry, it still felt like some sort of boundaries that Khan might recognize. Throwing the sack over his shoulder, he grabbed the other two bags left on the ground, tossing one on top of his back and strapping another to his side. It was a bit cumbersome at the moment, but as soon as he was in his lycan form it would be much more manageable.
Khan dutifully followed him as he left the room, heading towards the entrance, eyeing the mare that passed through the hallway. It was strange to see an unfamiliar face walking so casually within the castle, but he simply shrugged it away. That was probably how the others had felt when he had joined them not too long ago. It still felt weird that even though he’d been there for almost thirty years, he still felt like the young stallion he had been when he had transformed. At least his body hadn’t stayed in that post-pubescent form, moon bless the coven if he had!
Chuckling at the subtle thought, he heard Khan attempt to copy the sound from behind him. Glancing back at the lycan, knowing he had simply been trying to learn, he reminded him, “You don’t have to copy everything I do. You’re your own nocturnal.”
Once again, the naive nocturnal simply tilted his head in confusion. Shaking his head as he continued to head towards the main hall, he suddenly found himself crossing paths with Ailade. The mare smiled kindly at the pair, asking, “How’s it going with him? Any troubles?”
“His diet,” Leper informed her, glancing hopelessly back at the hulking lycan to find him sniffing at his pack of food. “Oi,” he cried at Khan, whipping around and pointing a hoof at him. “That isn’t for you! I already gave you what I could spare!”
The lycan jerked back and looked to Ailade for support, letting out a soft whine. The mare laughed at the attempt, stepping forward and rubbing a hoof against the lycan’s broad shoulder. “Come on now, you’ll get your fill soon. That was just unlucky hunting out there.”
“Unlucky for me,” Leper grumbled as he turned his back to Khan, still side-eyeing him. “I’m not sure what he thought he was doing, but as soon as he saw the deer we were tracking, he made a big arch running around the thing. He made so much noise the deer knew we were coming and simply darted off to the side.”
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like how a trained hunter would act,” Ailade admitted, rubbing her cheek thoughtfully as she stared at the large nocturnal. In turn, the beast lifted one of his huge paws and rested it on her head, panting happily as he returned the affection. “Do you know how wolves hunt?”
“Um, no, not particularly,” Leper answered curiously. “Why?”
“Well, I’m not an expert, but I think he believe you were pack hunting,” Ailade replied. Sitting down, she held up two hooves that represented the two lycans, drawing the curve Leper had described. “I saw it one time myself, back when it was just Hemorrhage and I in the West Tundras. One group of the wolves would curve left while the other did a curve right, forcing the prey to run straight away from them. Then, the two parties curved inward and caught the prey.” Her hooves tapped together as she completed the oval. “Guess he just figured you were gonna copy him.”
“Bloody pack mentality cost us lunch, dinner, and breakfast,” Leper cursed unhappily, feeling a slight twinge of hunger in his own stomach. He would address that later though. “It’s fine though, there’s plenty of food between here and Grandshire, and I have a feeling a battle will lead to its own type of feasting.”
“Yes, that’s probably true,” Ailade said uneasily, obviously uncomfortable with the insinuation.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as brash,” the lycan apologized. “Just saying theoretically.”
“Of course, no problem at all,” Ailade quickly amended brightly. She looked up at Khan one last time before asking Leper, “Do you mind taking care of Khan like this, mentoring him?”
“Nah, not really,” he relented with a half-smile. “It can be a bit strange, a tad draining, and a tinge frustrating, but hey, you guys had to deal with me when I first joined, and the guy is admittedly loveable, so I say it’ll be worth it once he’s himself. Besides, it’s just another lycan added to the mix. I can’t complain about that at all!”
Ailade giggled at the sentiment, nodding in agreement. “Yes, Nightseer and I are feeling a bit overwhelmed by the amount of large nocturnals that aren’t of our kind. I mean, if her and Argon’s child is a lycan like her, we may just have to give up on a sister werewolf or vampyre.”
“Ah come on, we still got a long time before you can give up on that,” Leper jested. “I mean, you haven’t found your other half and neither have I, and as far as I know your other half can still be your same species. Besides, we still have to figure out what kind of child the new mare’s kid is. For all we know, she could be a little mordigan like her future father or a vampyre like Nightseer!”
“Still doesn’t bode well for me, though,” Ailade pointed out. A sudden look of realization caused her to gasp, and before he could ask whatever the matter may be, she exclaimed, “I forgot to… well, um, do something really important. Could you just hold that thought for a minute?”
Leper watched in confusion as the mare suddenly dashed past him and across the hallway, pausing only to open the door before racing out. He glanced over his shoulder at Khan, who had also followed the mare’s rapid retreat. “Do you have any clue as to what that was about?” The lycan simply tilted his head at Leper, frowning. Nodding as he licked his lips, the older lycan began to walk away. “Of course you don’t. Come on, we need to find something to occupy your time while I’m gone that isn’t rummaging through our storages for food.”
Stepping through another pair of doors that led to the main foyer, Leper looked around expectantly, finding Hemorrhage standing near one of the doors staring at a piece of paper. Frowning, he called to the mordigan, “What’ve you got there, Hemorrhage?”
“Nothing interesting, really,” Hemorrhage responded, not looking up from his parchment. “Just a list of things that need to be done before we go and while we’re there.”
Leper raised an eyebrow at that, saying, “I thought you didn’t write lists down. Was a waste of ink, you said.”
The mordigan glanced up, looking pressed as his magic folded the paper neatly, replying, “It’s a personal list. I don’t think I’d be able to remember everything on it, which would be most troublesome, especially when it comes to the other coven.” The stallion glanced behind Leper to the lycan that loomed persistently over his shoulder. “I heard your hunting didn’t go so well…”
“Yeah, this guy is a bit troublesome himself when it comes down to it,” Leper informed him. Looking over to the loping, furry face of the lycan, he added, “Ailade credits it to him being a pack hunter for the past however long. I can see where the idea came from, and she makes a good point with it. This guy needs to learn to hunt like one of us though, and until we can get him back to his pony self, that will be the hardest part.”
“Yes, the poor soul has already changed his life twice already, and we’re going to have to round it out at three,” Hemorrhage sadly agreed. His gaze returned to Leper as he said, “Thank you for taking him in. I know this has and will be hard on you in more ways than you’ll know, but it truly means more than you know to me that you have taken on the assignment.”
“Well, Argon helped me out when I was new to the coven, barely more than this guy right here,” Leper humbly rebutted. “It’s the least I can do, and besides, I wasn’t doing much anyways. Might as well make a friend and brother in spirit. Just gotta keep him outta trouble for a few moons and get him back to being himself and not what we found at that village.”
“Ah, speaking of which, I believe Ailade is retrieving the others and bringing them here for one of the reasons I have this list,” Hemorrhage suddenly intoned. “You see, while at the other coven’s cave, Halven gave Argon and I blood infused wine to drink. It wasn’t pony blood, however it reminded me that while we are out there fighting under the Princess’ banner, we will more than likely have to kill a few ponies. In order to keep us sane while we do so and not enter a blind rampage, I have a tactic to mollify the effects of equine blood on us.”
Precisely on cue, the doors reopened as Ailade and the others of the coven entered all giving the bottle of reddish liquid in her hoof a wary glance. Watching his coven enter, Hemorrhage informed them, “What Ailade has in her hooves is a gift from Halven and Omen from a prior communication with them. The wine inside is approximately fifty years old. The blood inside is two years old. Indeed, as you have all detected, it is pony blood. I wish I had gotten rid of it after receiving it, however, there is a use for it that I can’t deny.”
Hemorrhage paused as he nodded to Ailade, the werewolf popping the cork out with ease. Instantly the tangy smell of blood and fermented berries flooded the room, Leper’s core alighting with the scent of food. He had to prevent his tail from wagging at the instinctual prospect of a successful hunt even as his mouth began to salivate. It had been years upon years since his last taste of pony, and while every decent nocturnal hated to admit it, pony was the best taste a lycan, werewolf, vampyre, or mordigan could ever enjoy. His stomach growled in spite of not being hungry, drawing Argon’s attention briefly.
“Failed hunting,” he quickly excused himself, getting an understanding nod from the eldest lycan. The smell of it was too much for Khan as the youngest lycan slowly approached the bottle, crouching as if to sneak his massive body to the luxury. “Oi, Khan, back it up,” Leper snapped, his lycan brain defensive of the hunt. No, he had to remind himself, this wasn’t correct. He would not be feeding on innocents.
Letting out a loud sigh, the large nocturnal slinked away from the wine, the first sign of restraint Leper had seen out of him. Impressive considering the difficulty he was having preventing himself from going straight up lycan and taking the bottle for himself.
“You see, it has been many years since any of us have had pony blood, some not since our transitory night,” Hemorrhage spoke deliberately, staring down each of the coven members. “It is more than likely that each of us in the next few years is going to have to kill a pony, whether in this war or as a defense against anything resulting from it. Therefore, it is best for both us and them to prevent a complete rampage when we get our first taste of pony or feel the warm blood on our faces and in our noses. The wine will most likely cause you to at least involuntarily transform on taste, but it is my hope that if you do enter a rampage, it will prevent it from happening out there.”
“Yes, but what will we do in here if one of us goes on a rampage,” Argon asked, staring at the bottle warily.
“Well, another sip of the wine and a good deal of wrangling should burn out the rampage,” Hemorrhage replied, sounding surprisingly optimistic by the prospect. With a quick glance over to Khan, he added, “That one doesn’t need any more blood anyways, so if that’s who you were worried about, there is no need.”
The room fell silent as they all glanced around at each other before ultimately their gaze fell upon the open wine bottle. Hesitantly, Ailade raised the bottle to her lips, tipping the bottle ever so slightly to force the liquid to her. As soon as it touched her lips, Leper watched her gulp quickly, pulling the bottle away and passing it over to Nightseer. With the slightest hesitation, she too quickly put the draft to her lips, nervously taking a small sip of the blood as Argon rested a hoof on her shoulder, watching her intently.
Nightseer visibly shivered at the vampyristic urges brought on by taking blood, but she too quickly forced the swig down, her eyes squeezing shut in an effort to keep the effects from her. Argon took the bottle from her, still watching as he too dipped the bottle back and took a large drink from the contents within. His reaction was less dangerous than the other two's, a soft smile crossing his lips at the flavor as he commented, “It tastes good. Your turn.”
Leper almost jumped in surprise as the older lycan extended the bottle to him, the liquid ruby glimmering in the firelight that glowed around them. He swallowed hard as he stared down the luxurious liquor, the droplets of blood infused within teasing a low growl from him as he grabbed the bottle for himself. Furrowing his brow, he tipped his head and the bottle back in one swift motion, before bringing them both back down as he swallowed.
He expected the fire within to roar and burst from him, but there wasn’t anything. To his surprise, the taste of it, indeed delicious, had settled the roaring beast, and he licked his lips, content with the taste. It was probably the best tasting thing that he had ever had in his life, the mixture of fermented fruit and blood mixing into an irony tang that satisfied him in one taste.
“Yep, it tastes pretty good,” he agreed, licking his lips contently before passing the bottle over to Hemorrhage. The mordigan silently tipped the bottle to Leper as if to toast him before taking the bottle and drinking down the last half of its contents.
When the bottle was completely drained, he settled it on the ground, explaining cheerfully, “For the nerves.”