The heavy instinct of fall to find a mate was what Chael had thought had driven him out into the free lands. But when he turned his cautious, cowardly eyes quickly to the dark wolf he heard approaching, the instinct dropped away. His fiery desire to find a mate and reproduce was blown out. Glowing. That was the only word with which Chael could explain the female wolf as he gazed upon her. The world faded into the background, leaving a silvery sheen around the black female as her indigo eyes intensified, seeming to cast a light around her features. They consumed his vision and thoughts. Chael’s heart skipped several beats as he held his breath, feeling the monumental shift in his mind. His brethren in Iromar, their code, and his life duty to them, was suddenly after this femme fatal who strode towards them. The Chael-that-had-been could be heard on some far off island in his mind shouting, “Taboo! I knew it was taboo!”, but the abrupt alteration in his mentality caused him to be unaware of the warning. All he could wonder was where had she been? Why was he only finding her now?
His shoulders relaxed downwards and for the first time since pup hood, Chael raised his head. His ears were held lightly forwards and the caution in his eyes at being out of his pack land disappeared. No one could touch her, Chael concluded. Not the stranger. Not himself. Not anyone. He listened carefully to her words and to the cold tones she delivered. He couldn’t see her preparation to defend herself, but rather he felt it. With this confused intuition, he sat down to show her he wouldn’t approach.
Finally, Chael’s eyes faltered and he looked at his red tipped toes. Panic began to ripple out from the island where the Chael-that-had-been was ranting. What would happen now?! Iromar had always been his life and his duty was to them. Now, it suddenly seemed he was unhinged and that all of that loyalty shifted to the scared she-wolf eying them with hostility. He couldn’t do that! What purpose did he have now if he wasn’t only for the Demons? Shivers ran up Chael’s spine in coming hysteria. Without his purpose, he was nothing to Iromar. They would call him weak. They would kill him. As he gazed at his demon marked toes, though, Chael settled. They were the proof that he was born to survive in pain. He could handle the pain of returning to his pack, and pain of keeping this secret. The pain of knowing she wouldn’t come with him, not this time. He returned his gaze to the black female and found calmness in the unsettling shift. The truth was that his purpose hadn’t changed. He was here for her, to be what she needed him to be, as he had always done for the wolves of Iromar. He was a servitor still, but now he was hers.
“No. With no females available at home, it is instinct driven to find a mate in the lands unclaimed,” Chael told her. Although his voice carried an accent whimsical by nature, it was neither malicious nor flirtatious. A fact, he’d stated. Then he continued to speak to her gently in his native Latin tongue, knowing somehow that she’d understand, “Veni autem appellationem fatorum. Ecce ego ad vos, o femina monstrum.” (But I have come by the call of fates. I am for you, my female monster.) A confession of love? No. He did not love the ebony female. She was simply what was most important. Without her, he’d float away and be whisked into a black abyss.
Chael was aware of the arrival of the young female, observing them and of the white goliath that watched with calculating eyes. But they hardly matter to him, not by choice of him, for Chael was still Chael, but his weak mind allowed it to be consumed by the potent moment of imprintation* as his system struggled to make the adjustment. Chael attempted to have other thoughts, but every path lead back to the black mystery before him, always ending with the same question: Who did she need him to be?
* MADE UP WORD ALRET: IMPRINT-ATION - N. THE OCCURRENCE OF A MALE FINDING HIS FEMALE SOUL MATE. *
|