Traydon River

This river is famously known for its fish!

[Drink deep of battle]
IP: 78.144.145.13
Posted on January 9, 2012 at 08:54:14 PM by Achilles, Robin, & Fyra

Valour, honour, and justice were three things he believed in. The boy was noble, despite beliefs of others, and once more, he was not his father. There were a lot of similarities with his father and he, but a lot of differences, too. Achilles was serious, but that was because he valued others and didn’t let anyone outsmart him. He fought a lot but that was the way he was, he “liked” fighting as much as anyone “liked” breathing. It was who he was. But he was not without sensitivity, and though when it came to women he was a bit of a show off… perhaps a little too lustful for his own good, he was a nice guy. Strength was the thing he valued most though, not strength of body, but strength of mind, and heart. He would follow most of his father’s customs in that manner, but not all of them. The sick or injured in the pack would be healed, but the permanently disabled would not be able to join, or if born within the pack would be forced out. Achilles would not go as far to kill weakling pups, but he’d throw them out; expect their mothers to find another home for them. And when it came to joining members, they would be chased out too if disabled. But Achilles wouldn’t kill unless absolutely necessary. The main difference from his father, was that his main aim would be to protect the pack. Not to gain power.

The boy with the ripped ear rode the dragon to Traydon River, as previously proclaimed. He supposed the dragon was his dragon, now. He also planned to get a couple more as the time went on, make his strength grow. His main worry at the moment was how the pack would feel about him becoming Alpha. It wasn’t like he’d earned the position, he’d simply been born into it. His father thought he could do it though. And for the moment, his main priority would be burying his father. Yet, not burying at all. Cremating. His father would receive a true cremation, Achilles had been taught of such all his life, in his father’s stories and tales.

As soon as they hit the ground, Strider’s body and head dropping to the ground, Achilles ran to the body and gathered it up as best he could, putting it together almost. And then at once, Redemption and he were silently rolling logs and such to the clearing by the river, pulling bushes and saplings together, weaving vines in-between their depths. They tied up gradually, a sort of platform together, and gently, once it was done, placed the body on it. Achilles firmly fastened the body onto the platform with leaves and vines, and once it was done, it all looked quite beautiful. The boy ripped a bloody tear in his own paw pad then, and squeezed droplets of it onto the platform, as an offering.

The year old grey wolf and the huge, sweeping one-eyed-dragon hauled their body weight against the platform and pushed it to the river’s edge. The river was large, leading to a couple of lakes and running downstream; that meant the cremation would go on for quite some time, perhaps around the whole of Wolf Mountain. His father deserved as much, Achilles believed. Many thought ill of his father, but as a son, Achilles loved the wolf. He had been the only figure he’d looked up to in his life, and one he’d held very dearly. Perhaps the only other he’d actually loved.

One more push, and the platform would be out to water. But he’d wait first. He’d at least see if his family turned up. He expected them to, anyway. Maybe not his brothers…. He wasn’t sure if they actually cared. But his mother, definitely. She’d be distraught. And his sisters. For now the boy collapsed on the body and wept as only a wolf could; through mournful howls and wet, snuffling nose-sniffs. His songs echoed throughout the land, and he wanted everybody to hear.

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An hour later of mourning of the father to his son, and both Fyra and Robin had arrived. Fyra was clearly changed, in fact she was very, very changed. Robin kept giving her sideways glances as they walked, slowly. Robin had always wondered about pups of her own, but when she had pups, she wanted it to be special. With a mate she’d love for ever. Obviously, Fyra didn’t have a mate, but she stank of male. And was showing, quite clearly, pregnant. Stop looking at me, Robin. spat Fyra, her flaming eyes narrowed to slits. Robin would have normally giggled in such a situation, but she only sighed and averted her gaze, under the circumstances. They were all quiet at this time. All upset.

The daughters approached the clearing with wide eyes. So it was true. Robin especially, hadn’t really believed that her strong father was dead. And he wasn’t coming back, either. The red-chested girl ran to the body at once, and covered herself in Strider’s fur, nuzzling up for the last time. Fyra stood back a little, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Who said wolves couldn’t cry? Because they could. It was possibly the magic of the mountain on that day, that made Fyra display a single shell of emotion.

When you send him off, I’ll follow him until it burns. Robin said defiantly, jutting out her chin. She really wanted to see whether anybody would attack the body, some selfish person with no heart. But Achilles refused her proposal. No, Robin. he said simply. And that was that.

All three siblings waited now, for anyone else who might turn up before it began.

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