they hear the call and to them, it was as though their big brother had won the most intense competition of his life -- or maybe even of theirs. there are whoops and hollers coming from all four - yes, even little herschel. three howls in answer to the one of their leader. even little constantine who had come to stay for a time - intermittently - with the boys he had met for the firefly competition. It is four brothers come to greet and congratulate...
Only, it would seem, there is a fifth who comes in the amount of footsteps to be counted.
The black brother is the first to break through the trees and arrive beside the four gathered already, Alexander with the flashes of his mother’s white throughout, with his white and blue eyes, with his zest for life and strength found in all things. But most of all his fearless (to him) leader. There is only one reason that he does not barrel headfirst into the older male, and that is that seamus paid him respect.
The red brother is next, barely behind Alexander and clearly only doing so because he meant to keep a close fix on the black male’s side. He throws up a second joyous howl, uncharacteristically animated in the heat of the celebration the four not-but-still brother’s shared. Vladimir gleams the same color as their leader’s haunch and it is clear when he slows himself that there is a direct gaze to that very place on their alpha.
A golden stranger, but a welcome one, is next. Neirin’s son is not used to battle, but he finds himself carried away by notions of some intense bravery and awesome performance -- moreso by this rumored peaceful man. Righteousness defended by fate - or so it is in his mind. Constantine paints grand stories of the fight in his own mind and play-bows at the victor from around Seamus’s greeting.
Usually last, but not so this time, Herschel arrives with a happy smile and a brightness to his eyes that emphasizes the tropical sunset color of them. He is whining with his merriment, then whining with a yip thrown over his shoulder when Vladimir slows to look at the wounded appendage. “we have met someone,” he begins, “you are so cool!” Alexender interrupts, “what a win, sir!” constantine pipes up -- only to be interrupted with a sharp bark of “hey!” and a following more calm, “go get the fellow, herschel.” and without delay, herschel turns to do just that, ears slicked to his head in nervous eagerness to help.
AND I HOPE THAT YOU REMEMBER ME
the second generation; the grandsons of the first packs
of scotavia | of solevion | of trenus | of ferrine
the freeman king | the executioner | the changeling | the astromancer
|
