shiver my timbers, shiver my sides
yo ho, heave ho
there are hungers as strong as the wind and tides
yo ho, heave ho
He feels his leg wounds stretching as he makes himself force into a mile-eating lope. It hurts, but the victory settles well in his stomach. He will run free and wild with his brothers again, unashamed and unabashedly in love with the wilderness he had been called fit to rule once more. Maybe someday Sulan will return to them, throw off the garb of Diveen and join them in the years of plenty to come. Maybe Dusk will forgive her nephew for taking back the crown honor had bid him hand over to her. He shakes his head, blood still oozing from the gashes in his muzzle. He knows what he shall do first and as he crosses the threshold of Glorall he throws his head back and calls to his people as his grandfather once had done for Scotavia. A loud voice, a proud voice, a voice free of anger and righteous indignation. Salem will know its sound, Pan and Seven will come running. Mortz will help Ajax to come, his beautiful and gloriously patient mate will rise and hear his jubilee. He is home and he is king.
The island seems so much less a prison now, so much less a dungeon for a fallen king. He yearns for its ocean sounds, the wind and salty spray. He has pirated it away from the pretender king and it is his once more. The woods of the mainland are like long lost dear friends, the woodland animals scatter from before him and he is glad. He is hunter, he is death to them, and he is proud to return in triumph. He howls again, another note tossed to the sea breeze as it breaks inland. Black bloodied fur still stands on end at his hackles, adrenaline still unyielding after his battle with The Diamond King. Peace may have been his creed, but he fought with the knowledge of ages long past and it was simply breeding and luck that has put Weylin through his first true new Moladion battle. He is glad and he is strong in his joy. A third call and he stops in the semi-salted grassy stretch between shore and woods on the mainland.
Peace was a creed of the prior king and strength was to be the new law. Strength in self, strength in loyalty. No land would be exempt from their sights. If they had trade to barter - then barter they would. If they stole from Glorall, then it was War they sought. If they injured one, the wound was to all. They would rule each other with extreme prejudice and see only those within Glorall as worthy of gifts freely given. The way of the island wolves since his being kept within its watery embrace, that is the new way of this land and the Pirate King waits to meet his crew with baited breath and tail slung high atop his back.
The Pirate of Glorall's Island
[ male - five - 39 inches, 130 pounds - selene's soulmate ]
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