Restlessness left Chael pacing the border between Iromar and Susil Crags. Even for Chael, the spirit of the approaching mating season was strong and it made him debate for weeks over crossing into the free land, if only to have a look at the females in heat. For the past week, Chael had approached the border and paced and paced then felt wretched for considering passing on his weak genes and then returned to his den where, he stayed for a day, tossing and turning, and missing even the touch of a female’s nose on his pelt, though he had never been touched on kind terms by a possible mate. As a result of his debate, he had worked himself into a blind panic and found himself placing a solid bite on his own leg to bring himself off the adrenaline.
And now, here he was again, the wound scabbed over and healing well, and staring at the rocky terrain beyond the swamp. Just a look… just for fun, Chael told himself, but he flattened his ears and turned away to pace again. It was taboo to cross the invisible line! And he, a lowly ranking male without the drive for aggression, couldn’t possible make a good litter. The pups would be scarred with white and worse, doomed to existence at the bottom of the pecking order in Iromar – for Chael assumed they would live with him until they were old enough to make their own way. However, the thought of pups was fading quickly from Chael’s mind, instincts continuing to drive him towards the lands were a she-wolf might consider him (for no she-wolf of Iromar would consider his genes).
And finally, instinct wore Chael’s fears into a thin unconscious thought, and he stepped quietly over the boarder of Iromar and into the crags. Chael’s heart skipped a beat, convinced he was being naughty and sure that one of his pack mates would jump him. He flinched, but when all was quiet, Chael’s eye gleamed with mischievousness and he cantered up into the rocks. For the first time in months, Chael moved unhindered by the requirements of submissiveness. His gates were long and strong and his paws found their footing silently. He paused atop a boulder to cast an excited gaze out on the crevices of the steep slopes. Wind ruffled his thick fur and he took the opportunity to breath in the cold scents of stone and water.
He detected the musky scent of another male out on the crags. The wolf was close. Chael lowered his head and tail as he watched with cautious eyes the approach of the smaller male. He stood silently, unwilling to engage in interaction, for interaction could lead to a competitive fight and in a fight, Chael was already beaten. He was so trained to roll belly up that one snarl would cause him to do so. Instead, he made it clear through his passive stance that he wasn’t going to interfere with the male’s chosen path. Hopefully, this was enough to pacify any aggressive intentions the male might have had upon seeing Chael, who was upon first glance a worthy opponent. To encourage goodwill, Chael greeted him, “Good morning, traveler.”
|