It was the strangest of dreams. He saw those from his past so often in his sleep. His Mother- mostly, forever worrying over having misplaced on child or another or grooming his fur in all the wrong directions as she had with her loving haphazard care. He saw Faerie often too, his betrothed in the days when such a thing was common, a tradition long since died out and perhaps for the right reasons though he had maintained a friendship with her for years all the same. He saw Scarlett too, the daughter of Zeivah and his imprint for so many years before her leaving had shattered that bond between them and perhaps severed his last reason- beyond Devil himself, for existing still within these lands. Tonight however his dreams were interrupted, Hazard faded from his side, stepping back into the shadows of his mind as if she dared not linger too long in this space before his images of Scarlett and Faerie seemed to halt in their play- both suddenly seeming to lower their heads in a bow of sorts that saw the boy confused, even within the realms of his dreams. He felt himself stiffen, readying himself for attack before Scarlett and Faerie faded entirely, as did the field he had found himself in, the very dream seeming to shift and change to…..night…no….caves. A place with caves. Someone was here, he was entirely sure and yet whoever it was seemed determined not to be seen, forever lunging out of his vision. A white wolf, a fast one too, his dream self-turning hurriedly in an effort to capture a glimpse of whoever seemed to play this ridiculous game with him before something….wet seemed to run along the back of his head.

Amber eyes flicker open rapidly, Risk given to sit hurriedly upward within the den in Diveen he had taken over for the evening, having chosen to rest this single night in his brothers company before travelling on, the light of day beginning to spear through the cracks in the den as the wet, damp moss above dribbled further morning dew atop his snowy fur. It had been a foolish dream to have, nothing more than wisps and wonderment and yet images of caves and rocky places seemed to hold strongly within his thoughts. It had been a fortunate and yet prosperous meeting with a wolf of red ears that had directed him onward and towards the grotto, the only area he knew- he swore- that held such an image as he so described from his thoughts. It was nothing more then memory, he was sure, his return to Moladion surely drawing forward memories he had long since forgotten and seeing them play out within his dreams. Surely no other reason for his presence here existed this day and yet he had felt compelled all the same. He had lived to long and seen to many things to discount a dream so readily, however and for that reason he had made the journey today, following the directions of the one they called Hyrule.

It is rare, truly, to meet a child whom is….different to others and indeed Risk does not belive himself to pertain any great skill in looking upon a young wolf and seeing any true potential within and yet he had understood much in that moment as he looked upon the boy child and listened to his words- words he had not heard in many years, not since Heyel and perhaps in that moment Risk had come to a certain realisation that allowed a knowing smile to grace his lips and nothing more as he had turned silently from Diveen to find this grotto. He desired to see the lands all the same and whether this journey proved fruitful or not he found he hardly minded. He had time, after all and found himself content to explore.

It was rocky, vast, cold beneath his brown-flecked paws and yet unremarkable as a whole. Once one cave had been seen, so had the others, a haven for loners surely and yet he hardly begrudged them that. He had changed in all these years, lost so much of his nervous energy. He still held a need for order and rules, a love of strategy and planning and yet he had settled over the years, that battle scared frame having learned other ways to manage his own internal battles as he did his outward ones. He had been within the grotto for well over an hour before he heard that first taint of a voice he had once known well, ears pricking forward atop his skull, amber eyes drawn wide. Surely it couldn’t be….

“Devil? Devil?!”

The word is very near shouted as that muscular, pit-bull of a wolf hurries forward atop heavy paws to lope around a larger rock formation, searching hurriedly once more before the black wolf came into view. He was so very aged, so very worn, speaking to someone though Risk could not truly see who it was as he stood atop the small rise- looking down upon the wolf whom had forever been his King, his mentor, a father figure of sorts so many years ago when they had strode side by side in the jungles of Paracon.

“Devil…..I…..surely you do not recall who I am for it has been so very long. Sir, it is Risk- son of Hazard, your once Sword of Paracon so many years ago. Do you remember? I have searched for you since arriving here and it pleases me greatly to see you still.”

He waits for the male to turn to him, to offer some sense of recognition before he moves to step forward now, stride purposeful yet calm, ears folded back in the submission he had forever offered his King before his whole head is merely given to bow in acknowledgement at his approach, paused now before the giant black creature, meeting his gaze levelly now- one battle worn frame to another as he feels a swell of sorts within his chest, a pride perhaps, to stand before one whom is spoken of in legends- in the same breath as King Heyel. He is aged perhaps, greyed about his muzzle and worn with time yet to the eyes of Risk he is as he has always been. He does not see age of tiredness or weary limbs. He merely sees a King, remembers him as all he had ever been and surely such an image cannot be changed, not matter the words Devil may offer.

“To whom were you speaking, Devil? I believed you to be alone.”

He thinks no more upon the strangeness of his dream- for he had been brought her for a purpose, one so very clear in this moment, so much so that the how of his arrival no longer seemed important. For he stood at least before the hero of his mind and heart. He is aged now himself, worn and battle weary and yet…so things remain as always they have, the student forever in awe of the Master even if a lifetime has passed between them.



r i s k
15 Years ~ Lover of None ~ Stalker of None ~ Father to None ~ Sword For Hire