Midday and while they could not boast being entirely in health, Constantine aching where an antler had cut him earlier in spring, they were still making enough noise to shame elephants. The fields were lush and green, the banks of the lake more welcoming now that mountain run-off had slowed a little more. They are a veritable rainbow, covering most wolven hues in hide or marking. Even the most neutral of them, Herschel, was fairly striking. The giant star on his face, the grieve-like bars down his legs, and the leucistic skin.
He is even laughing today, louder than most ever thought him capable of, as they break through trees and underbrush and bolt headlong towards the water.
Alexander, the black brother, is the first, of course, his strides uneven with his bounding gait. He rams into Vladimir, red and as indiscernible as ever, who adjusts and charges only faster with a quietly dangerous grin that might make one wonder if he intended to kill the black brother this time, truly. Constantine, with a loping gait, hangs back with Herschel, the golden brother so eager to join and yet unwilling to agitate a wound that was almost healed - not even a scar to be noticed unless one touched beneath his concealing fur. Herschel bounds in circles, unused to the golden brother not being able to keep pace when it was his greatest talent, his endurance was.
They are quickly to the shoreline, streaming like an avalanche on either side of the young girl, acting like the young men they were-- off duty and enjoying life. Being the Far Walkers of Taviora was fun, of course, but this was the time they had no obligations and could be and do as they pleased.
They splash into the lake, making a mess of the shore and sand on which Liah stood, and bounce and wrestle with each other in the waves they make. Alex, then, cannot hold back the elation of youth. His head is thrown back, his throat opening to let loose a howl that quickly urges Constantine and Herschel before at last Vladimir closes his eyes and throws back his own head to howl with a voice deep enough to resemble summer thunder. They harmonize in voice the way they seemed to gravitate and harmonize in their bodies.
And then, as if an afterthought, Alex stops, blue and white eyes turning to the shore where Liah is, and shoulders Constantine the way some boys do when they spot a pretty lady and are just seconds away from whistling a cat-call.
It was only too lucky for them, none of them had the gall. At least not yet.
“Hello, then!” the golden and blue-eyed brother, third of their number, calls. “What has you staying on shore? There is nothing to get you in here… and the mountain run-off has lessened so that it is not too cold.” the black brother adds on. They stare at her, the group of them, before looking to each other and back to Liah in expectation that she might speak. “She is my half sister. Out of her Imprint.” the vibrantly red and gold one says, shaking himself despite still standing in the water. “You are Liah, yes?” he asks, then, not seeming to see much reason to greet her as normal siblings might.
The boys were surprised, it would seem, to know what Vladimir told them. “Ah! You are from Spirane, then? They do not much care for us there. Turns out the Alpha wouldn’t let our Uncle stay with Aunt Natu. They moved to Taviora and then got taken to Glorall… though I hear Alex’s mother preferred the move, for some reason..” The three brothers look at the leucistic one with a small bit of surprise, blinking at how much he had spoken to a near-stranger..
THREE YEAR OLD FAR WALKERS OF TAVIORA
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
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