Almost a year had passed since Dirk had left his homeland and his pack behind and to find himself now surrounded in a pack environment again was a bit disconcerting. He’d grown used to keeping his own company, but at heart, he needed the company and camaraderie of others to function at his best. While the guilt of his loss was still there, much of his old self had returned. He was a warrior at heart with a penchant for raiding and kidnapping. It had been the way of his people. He’d yet to indulge in any of his skills of late but the fact that he might derive pleasure from any of them was a good sign.
For too long he’d been reluctant to find pleasure in anything, feeling like he wasn’t deserving. He still had things about his past that he wasn’t entirely sure about and was working through, but the sense of purpose a pack tended to give was going a long way to helping.him feel more balanced. Of course he’d yet to find his place in the pack but even being around others and helping where he could was comforting.
Dirk was just putting the finishing touches on his den, eying the entrance with a critical eye. It was just large enough for someone his size, perhaps a little larger. He’d made sure that he’d hollowed out a decent size on the inside as well, more space than he needed really, but ever since that winter afternoon in the crags, he’d found his mind wandering. All his life he’d been told that he should desire a small, demure female; it was all he’d really ever known despite his own mother being a bit strong willed. Muireen had been meek and delicate. She was not.
He was just shaking the dirk from his fur when a voice called out. Arturio! Dirk lifted his head and turned to greet the wolf, his own head held high. ”Ah, laird. I’ve just finish my wee hole here. I hope the spot wasnae intended fer anything else. Figured it had a decent view, might be appealing to some.” Despite having been told to call the white brute by his given name, Dirk struggled with it. Their relationship as packleader and pack member was still to new for him to take such liberties. Perhaps one day in the near future he’d be comfortable enough but for now, laird it would be.
Five years old. My heart is my own. My soul is my own. I pledge my fealty to Asteraia.