Use caution when the Wolf comes aknockin; Posted on October 14, 2020 at 02:59:44 PM by Rougaru
Monster had said to give Medusa her freedom; deep down, the mahogany beast knew she was right. While he would always view the spirited princess of Paradise as his young filly, she was a filly no more. Truthfully, she was even old enough to have foals of her own though only the gods knew how much he hoped that at least for now she did not feel the urge to make him a grandsire. One day… one day he would relish the knowledge of his offspring bringing forth young of their own. For now, he was content to instead let his own seed be the ones drifting across the islands.
However, as reassuring as his conversation with Monster had been, Rougaru could not shake the urge that nagged at his thoughts like the heavy growling of the wolf’s voice. Tinuvel called his name like the full moon summoned the wolf’s blood. Too long his alliances on the frozen tundra lay dormant, hidden as though buried beneath a layer of ice and merely waiting for the beast’s warm prints to thaw its permafrost. While Solomon had not been an ally of his long, Rougaru saw the stallion more than once on the main island to know that he was doing as he must, spreading his lines and growing his herd. What troubled him today was the fact that neither hide nor hair of his longtime friend had been seen. Warsaw.
Whispers ran rampant on Atlantis. Faint hints of the ice lord’s son a second in command to the fierce priestess Xiomara. Ironclad’s presence had not missed Rougaru’s keen nose or sharp eyes. However as of late, the prince had been absent, causing a new rouse of concern to placate itself. Bjorn’s name had arisen sharp and strong, but like a great firestorm it faded quickly and it was not long until not even the winds whispered the stallion’s name. Rumor had it that he had returned to Atlantis… but Rougaru could not find any truth in that. While the twins Xiomara that she sported at her heels mirrored the bear king much in appearance; their sire was absent. Of that, Rougaru nor the wolf could decide whether he felt relief… or suspicion.
However what brought him onto the pebbled shore of the Inlet today, was far from rumors and gossip. Sea-darkened head lifts high to catch the course zephyrs that billow across his proud face, bringing with it scents both familiar and new. Warsaw. Faint as it was, once more the proud gray stallion’s scent marked the borders of the Inlet under his reign again. However it was the scents of his sons that now blanketed their sire and caused Rougaru to linger near the border. While he knew that he never needed to bother with formalities for his friend’s sake, what he remembered of the two foals was vague and unfamiliar. Truthfully, he was not sure he could pick them out of a crowd save for the faint scent of Warsaw that mingled with their own.
Emerald green eyes glitter in the bright sunlight that cast warm golden rays from between the plumes of white puffy clouds above. Summer on Tinuvel is far different than the dismal gray and whites of the snow blanketed lands in winter. Bright green grasses cover where once snow and ice lay in deep furrows. Dappled sunlight glinted through deep green branches that shifted and swayed by the invisible pull of the cool breeze. For the first time, the differences between Atlantis and Tinuvel did not seem nearly as pronounced as usual. In truth, Rougaru found himself enjoying the cool air that billowed and teased the drying ends of his damp silver mane. The warm sun on his chocolate hide was not nearly as hot and unbearable as the summer sun could be beating down on the shores of Atlantis and he would have no doubt enjoyed himself even longer, were it not for the faint foul odor of sickness that caused his whiskered lips to wrinkle in disgust.
Curiosity fueled his movements now as small ears perk amid the tangle of creamy caramel colored locks. Thick saucer-like hooves leave firm impressions in the moist earth as slowly, like the hunting wolf, he makes his way beyond the shores of the Inlet and further inland. Though he had his fair share of time in the past years, visiting his friend and ally, so he knew for the most part the general layout of the land. However, never in spring and rarely in summer. Like himself, Warsaw had always found those months the most time consuming, caring for newborn foals and their mothers. It was a stallion’s duty after all.
He took his time, his pace languid and meandering as he allowed himself to follow his nose. Though it was not his place, even he could not pass the urge to assist his ally in discovering the source of the foul odor. What he did not expect was the scene that lay before him.
Ears swivel at the sounds of Warsaw’s gruff voice as the mountainous hills give way to deep crevices. Muffled voices bounce off the rocks, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where. Emerald green eyes scan the jutting rocky ledges until the subtle movements draw his gaze.
Warsaw.
It is not the Warsaw he is familiar with seeing. Where once the gray stallion stood tall with large muscles bulging from use, now lay a weak stallion of bone and little more. Festering wounds dotted his skin like a spider’s web between overhead branches. The sight tore at even the hardened wolf. No war lord should suffer such fate.
Thick hooves shuffle beneath him to alert the young stallion that hovered uneasily over the gray skeleton. Piercing gaze shifts from pity to something more akin to indifference. Warsaw would not expect his pity. He deserved more than that. A wolfish grin ghosts across his ashen lips as the jungle wolf halts himself a few feet from the cave mouth, his gaze transfixed upon his friend. ”You look terrible…. brother.” he speaks, his voice light and jaunting despite the gravity of the situation that he had come upon today.
Leaf-litter flutters to the floor as the great mahogany stallion flicks his tail idle against supple flanks. Proud head cocks sideways as he blinks absently against the thick shadows. ”Care to spare a few moments?” he inquires, the question lingering in the still, fetid air.