Home
Feather asked for the stick and recieved it quickly from Gill.
She placed her claws loosely on it and growled through gritted teeth,
"How could we ever possibly trust you? For all we know you could
be a spy from the Lake Packs." Oak retrieved the stick immediately
and barked solemnly, "We all know that we have lost all connections
with them." The council members nodded slowly. Skiota, tell us your
story. Let us relate, learn a little...to maybe find better terms." Oak
delicately dropped the stick infront of Sky. Some council members
winced as he placed a rough paw on the white bark. The grooves made
Sky's stomach lurch. This stick was ancient and oozed importance
from generations of passing down and improvement.
Wondering where to start, Sky thought little and started plain
and simple: at the beginning.
"I came from up North, were the mountains towered and
replaced the trees. The kingdom was ancient and brilliant. A proud
wolf race lived there. They had bitter wars though and had tough,
unbreakable pride. My generation into which I was born was foolish
and vain. Never gave to the poor, never suffered for the good. Always
wasted the moment of truce. Always pitied the strong, to valiant in
their own minds to give anything else. They destroyed the weak, in
which was all of us, as in which I became.
"My pack, a cold...heartless being of a shadow ruled superior
among the many creatures. My leader loved blood-shed. He had
few alliances and many enemies. You could say that he kept his
friends close and his enemies closer.
"In my pack, which true name was lost to the wind ages ago,
lost and took every day. Oaths of revenge was the mountain code
and swears of fealty was the mountains' treasure. My pack had
no standards. They stole from everbody. No truce was important.
"Cruel as it was, it was survival...or so as I was told. To be
a theif meant to be respected. To be a murderer meant to be a king.
New world order as they would say. Every individual wolf wanted
a different rule. Every wolf went by a different law. Nobody was
owned, which resulted in our never-ending power and freedom...and
also our stupidity. Our vanity controlled our thoughts and souls
if you hadn't of already have sold it to Kaetril.
"War was a foundation of learning and rank in my homeland.
Pups were trained feircely by the mother, in which so was I when I
was born. She trained my brothers and sisters to fight and be fighters.
Her duty was to pick off the weakest and select the strongest. Her
black heart was stone nonetheless in the ways of the mountains. I
was put through vigorous training and tortures daily along my other
littermates. I was the only survivor.
"When I was just a yearling I was given a mentor. Mentors
were strong and respected warriors. They were harsh and unforgiving.
I remember being pit against other young wolves and told to kill...
...another example of selection among my elders. My mentor would
throw me into duels and chaos, never proud that I was the one who
always made it out alive.
"We were nameless when we were pups, so our mothers would
not get attatched to us. When I was under my mentor's supervision,
which name is gone to the wind as well, I recieved a new name. A
degrading and humiliating one word name was given to me and the
other scarred dogs. The older wolves would make fun of us, as they
were supposed to. As I grew to be two years of age I became a
warrior. I was sent to numerous battles were many died to my
pack and claws. With my new warrior name of two words, I began
to see death and all its glory. I had killed many, taken revenge on
many, but was never respected. I was always treated as dirt there...
and always will.
"My heart was always made of steel, but had nothing inside
of it. I hated the ways of my homeland and ancestors. Others noticed
this but never pursued it, for bothering over another's business was
against every wolfian law. I felt hollow with blood on my claws. Soul
laden with scars, some said I had white wings that showed when the
rain came down or in war. I knew it was an insult but it made me feel
blessed. I had always felt a presence with me when I was in battle. I
knew I didn't belong there.
"I ran away. I left on the winter of my third year. I left every-
thing behind me. I escaped the mountains, and I don't know how I
ever did. The realm of my ancestors was a cage for a foaming beast,
I guess that of which I wasn't.
"The storm of winter pressed me onward. I did not know where
to run, where I should go, or what I should look for. Blood was not
what I wanted my fangs to be poisoned with, so with that in mind,
I traveled on an unknown force or whim. I carried on to find myself
in this forest. I came to learn of Ceriet quickly in this seemingly
blessed place. I had never known of her, for she had turned her back
on the mountains ages ago-or had she? Night came to my eye quickly
after and we became partners in our travels. She led me here."
Sky lifted his paw off the stick. The Parliament members
stayed silent, staring at Sky with mixed emotions. Oak watched the
grey wolf before him. He tried to read his eyes, but nothing could be
found there except the wings of ravens. "A warrior of his time," Oak
thought. A warrior of past or present...both?
Oak respected this young loner and of which he did not know
why. This wolf he saw before him, Oak knew he had a greater future
ahead of him. That future was not with him, but merely started with
him. Oak could only imagine what was in store for this battle-worn
fighter, who seemed to indeed have white wings enfolding him. A hero
of love, war, time, travel, existence, space...to what extent? This wolf
who stood undauntingly before him, trained to have none, looked up at
Oak. Oak could see the blood, the turmoil, the experience in his eyes.
"A hero to save us," Oak pondered, "if to what love can brake
and of what so many have said can save us." Oak did not just see a
warrior, an outcast, a lover, or hero, but he saw a loner in the grey wolf
before him. "Is he to be forever a loner, as is in the way of gratitude
for such beings of valor...or is it not so?"
Oak raised his head slowly. The wolves around him watched
in silence as his eyes came to meet the stars. The Rael above shone
in his eyes when they came back to earth. Oak shook his crown off
his head and let it fall to his paws. He grabbed it in his jaws and
lumbered off the boulder. In cold silence Oak padded up to Sky.
The grey wolf twisted into the submissive position as Oak drew
neigh. For once Oak found this posture vulgar in his sight. Oak
ignored it as best he could as he placed the crown of Olive branch
upon the wolf's head. "We are all just wolves," he thought as he made
sure it sat firmly on Sky's head. When he let go of the crown he felt
an escence of feathered wings release him as he backed away. He
studied the grey wolf once more as he began to raise himself.
The council members, one by one, placed their crowns before
Sky in acceptance. "Skiota," Oak barked, "welcome to Oak Trail
Pack. We are feirce and loyal, strong and elusive. Our heritage has
been ever lasting in this wood. And now, before our ancestors who are
no longer here, may you be accepted into are Clan, to fight many a
war alongside your new brothers, and to share peace as well. Trust and
fealty will all come in time, brother. Until then, I grant you a place
in this pack as long as you stay. For now on your formal name will be
Skyria, for you are our brother until death do you travel once more.
As of Wolfian law demands and by my standards, you are free, but
follow laws of your own and ours. Do you accept us?"
Sky barked hoarsely, "I hereby follow you."
"Brother, you are accepted by us, you have my word," Oak
barked. He raised his tail. The council raised their voices in song.
a long, ceremonial song filled the blackened sky. It rang with the
warning and threat of a new hunter, new warrior to an already
powerful pack. Oak did not join in on the chorus. He looked into
the young wolf's eyes and saw blankness, a shallow pool of nothing.
"Nothing is deep enough to drown in," Oak thought.
She placed her claws loosely on it and growled through gritted teeth,
"How could we ever possibly trust you? For all we know you could
be a spy from the Lake Packs." Oak retrieved the stick immediately
and barked solemnly, "We all know that we have lost all connections
with them." The council members nodded slowly. Skiota, tell us your
story. Let us relate, learn a little...to maybe find better terms." Oak
delicately dropped the stick infront of Sky. Some council members
winced as he placed a rough paw on the white bark. The grooves made
Sky's stomach lurch. This stick was ancient and oozed importance
from generations of passing down and improvement.
Wondering where to start, Sky thought little and started plain
and simple: at the beginning.
"I came from up North, were the mountains towered and
replaced the trees. The kingdom was ancient and brilliant. A proud
wolf race lived there. They had bitter wars though and had tough,
unbreakable pride. My generation into which I was born was foolish
and vain. Never gave to the poor, never suffered for the good. Always
wasted the moment of truce. Always pitied the strong, to valiant in
their own minds to give anything else. They destroyed the weak, in
which was all of us, as in which I became.
"My pack, a cold...heartless being of a shadow ruled superior
among the many creatures. My leader loved blood-shed. He had
few alliances and many enemies. You could say that he kept his
friends close and his enemies closer.
"In my pack, which true name was lost to the wind ages ago,
lost and took every day. Oaths of revenge was the mountain code
and swears of fealty was the mountains' treasure. My pack had
no standards. They stole from everbody. No truce was important.
"Cruel as it was, it was survival...or so as I was told. To be
a theif meant to be respected. To be a murderer meant to be a king.
New world order as they would say. Every individual wolf wanted
a different rule. Every wolf went by a different law. Nobody was
owned, which resulted in our never-ending power and freedom...and
also our stupidity. Our vanity controlled our thoughts and souls
if you hadn't of already have sold it to Kaetril.
"War was a foundation of learning and rank in my homeland.
Pups were trained feircely by the mother, in which so was I when I
was born. She trained my brothers and sisters to fight and be fighters.
Her duty was to pick off the weakest and select the strongest. Her
black heart was stone nonetheless in the ways of the mountains. I
was put through vigorous training and tortures daily along my other
littermates. I was the only survivor.
"When I was just a yearling I was given a mentor. Mentors
were strong and respected warriors. They were harsh and unforgiving.
I remember being pit against other young wolves and told to kill...
...another example of selection among my elders. My mentor would
throw me into duels and chaos, never proud that I was the one who
always made it out alive.
"We were nameless when we were pups, so our mothers would
not get attatched to us. When I was under my mentor's supervision,
which name is gone to the wind as well, I recieved a new name. A
degrading and humiliating one word name was given to me and the
other scarred dogs. The older wolves would make fun of us, as they
were supposed to. As I grew to be two years of age I became a
warrior. I was sent to numerous battles were many died to my
pack and claws. With my new warrior name of two words, I began
to see death and all its glory. I had killed many, taken revenge on
many, but was never respected. I was always treated as dirt there...
and always will.
"My heart was always made of steel, but had nothing inside
of it. I hated the ways of my homeland and ancestors. Others noticed
this but never pursued it, for bothering over another's business was
against every wolfian law. I felt hollow with blood on my claws. Soul
laden with scars, some said I had white wings that showed when the
rain came down or in war. I knew it was an insult but it made me feel
blessed. I had always felt a presence with me when I was in battle. I
knew I didn't belong there.
"I ran away. I left on the winter of my third year. I left every-
thing behind me. I escaped the mountains, and I don't know how I
ever did. The realm of my ancestors was a cage for a foaming beast,
I guess that of which I wasn't.
"The storm of winter pressed me onward. I did not know where
to run, where I should go, or what I should look for. Blood was not
what I wanted my fangs to be poisoned with, so with that in mind,
I traveled on an unknown force or whim. I carried on to find myself
in this forest. I came to learn of Ceriet quickly in this seemingly
blessed place. I had never known of her, for she had turned her back
on the mountains ages ago-or had she? Night came to my eye quickly
after and we became partners in our travels. She led me here."
Sky lifted his paw off the stick. The Parliament members
stayed silent, staring at Sky with mixed emotions. Oak watched the
grey wolf before him. He tried to read his eyes, but nothing could be
found there except the wings of ravens. "A warrior of his time," Oak
thought. A warrior of past or present...both?
Oak respected this young loner and of which he did not know
why. This wolf he saw before him, Oak knew he had a greater future
ahead of him. That future was not with him, but merely started with
him. Oak could only imagine what was in store for this battle-worn
fighter, who seemed to indeed have white wings enfolding him. A hero
of love, war, time, travel, existence, space...to what extent? This wolf
who stood undauntingly before him, trained to have none, looked up at
Oak. Oak could see the blood, the turmoil, the experience in his eyes.
"A hero to save us," Oak pondered, "if to what love can brake
and of what so many have said can save us." Oak did not just see a
warrior, an outcast, a lover, or hero, but he saw a loner in the grey wolf
before him. "Is he to be forever a loner, as is in the way of gratitude
for such beings of valor...or is it not so?"
Oak raised his head slowly. The wolves around him watched
in silence as his eyes came to meet the stars. The Rael above shone
in his eyes when they came back to earth. Oak shook his crown off
his head and let it fall to his paws. He grabbed it in his jaws and
lumbered off the boulder. In cold silence Oak padded up to Sky.
The grey wolf twisted into the submissive position as Oak drew
neigh. For once Oak found this posture vulgar in his sight. Oak
ignored it as best he could as he placed the crown of Olive branch
upon the wolf's head. "We are all just wolves," he thought as he made
sure it sat firmly on Sky's head. When he let go of the crown he felt
an escence of feathered wings release him as he backed away. He
studied the grey wolf once more as he began to raise himself.
The council members, one by one, placed their crowns before
Sky in acceptance. "Skiota," Oak barked, "welcome to Oak Trail
Pack. We are feirce and loyal, strong and elusive. Our heritage has
been ever lasting in this wood. And now, before our ancestors who are
no longer here, may you be accepted into are Clan, to fight many a
war alongside your new brothers, and to share peace as well. Trust and
fealty will all come in time, brother. Until then, I grant you a place
in this pack as long as you stay. For now on your formal name will be
Skyria, for you are our brother until death do you travel once more.
As of Wolfian law demands and by my standards, you are free, but
follow laws of your own and ours. Do you accept us?"
Sky barked hoarsely, "I hereby follow you."
"Brother, you are accepted by us, you have my word," Oak
barked. He raised his tail. The council raised their voices in song.
a long, ceremonial song filled the blackened sky. It rang with the
warning and threat of a new hunter, new warrior to an already
powerful pack. Oak did not join in on the chorus. He looked into
the young wolf's eyes and saw blankness, a shallow pool of nothing.
"Nothing is deep enough to drown in," Oak thought.
