Author:
Auburn
[ Edit | View ]
|
Date Posted: 21:49:27 09/11/05 Sun
Lionel stared in disbelief at his mentor. “What? You two are actually going to tell me about my parents?”
Aoife sighed and repeated for like the 10th time, “Yes.”
“Who were they? What were their names? What were they like? Did they love me? How did they die?” Lionel asked quickly, question tumbling out of his mouth, one after another.
Shaheen grinned and turned towards Aoife, “This is going to take a while. Good luck.”
Aoife glared at him, “You are going to help me explain it to him.”
“How? I didn’t know Lionel’s parents that well. Actually, I barely knew them at all,” Shaheen replied.
“We’re no going to tell him,” Aoife spat back at him.
“Then how? I thought you were going to … oh no. No...no…no way! Absolutely no!” Shaheen cried out, realizing what Aoife had meant.
“This is the easiest way,” Aoife replied with a glare at Shaheen, daring him to object.
Shaheen looked hesitant and then put up a brave face, “When I said no I meant no!”
“Please? For Lionel?’ Aoife pleaded, knowing Shaheen’s weak spot and using it against him
“Fine,” Shaheen said reluctantly.
Aoife gave a small smile and whispered a long stream of words.
The words, a rippling silver stream, circled the three wolves. Making smaller and smaller circles, the silver stream finally weaved itself into a small pool of silver words, almost like a pond full of silver water. An image appeared slowly in the pool showing a small clearing in the woods. Tall oaks, birches, and yews surrounded the clearing, protecting it. The clearing itself was bare except for a stump near the edge of the clearing, a small badger hole near the stump, and the snow that laid everywhere and covered almost everything. A harsh wind rustled past the trees and into the clearing. The three wolves that stood silently watching the scene could hear it. The picture seemed so real and lifelike that it seemed that if Lionel, Shaheen, or Aoife touched it, they would actually feel something other then air and water.
"where's my mother and father?” Lionel asked, turning his head to give Aoife a confused look. He was puzzled because he could see nothing but the clearing.
“Wait my dear,” was all that Aoife said.
Lionel nodded his head and turned his gaze back to the silver pool and its image.
The silver pool gave a small ripple and two wolves, one carrying a small bundle of fur, burst side by side into the clearing. One was a large gray male with a white chest and four white paws. He had an unusually tufted tail, marking him as a wolfdog or a wolf hybrid. He had dark chestnut eyes the expressed his emotions clearly, courage, belief, anger, love, fear, pain, and pride.
Lionel gasped and turned his head quickly to stare at Aoife. His piercing eyes anguishly looked at Aoife as he asked, “Is that my father?”
“Yes. His name was Ysonne. He was half timberwolf, a quarter Siberian husky, and a quarter arctic wolf. As you can see, his dog side was clearly apparent. His father, your grandfather, was a pureblooded timberwolf, heir to the timberwolf throne. Yvonne’s mother, your grandmother, was half pedigree Siberian husky and half artic wolf. She was royal-blooded and was heir to the Siberian husky throne and the artic wolf throne,” Aoife said gently. However, seeing Lionel’s confused look, she explained, “The arctic wolves and Siberian huskies get along quite well and don’t mind having one hair to both their throne.”
Lionel said nothing but his face showed his awe as he turned his gaze back to the silver pool.
The other wolf in the image was a pretty red-pelted she-wolf. She had vivid green eyes that seemed to stare across space and time to look at Lionel. “My son,” she whispered silently.
“Mother,” Lionel said quietly, testing out the new word.
“Her name was Ariel. She was a full-blooded grey wolf and one of the last full-blooded red wolves. She was heir to the grey wolf throne and the last queen of the red wolf throne,” Shaheen said sadly in his deep voice.
The bundle of fur that Ariel carried in her mouth was a small wolf pup. Carrying the pup gently in her mouth, she set it down on the ground. The pup awoke from its sleep and gazed up at its mother, adoration and puzzlement both evident on his face.
<a rel=nofollow target=_blank href="http://www.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/956094">http://www.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/956094</a>
The pup was oddly familiar to Lionel. Finally, he realized who it was. “It’s me,” he said incredibly.
At that moment, a large crash was heard coming from the woods. Pawsteps, howls, and growls could be heard. A few dark shapes were to be seen slowly weaving their way through the bare trees covered with snow and coming towards the clearing.
“They’re coming,” Ysonne said simply. He turned to Ariel, nuzzled her comfortingly on the shoulders, and then turned to face the direction of the noise.
Ariel nodded her head slowly and nuzzled her pup who was whimpering, “Be careful,” she whispered softly to her mate. Turning, she picked up her pup and headed to the old badger hole.
A few moments later, six wolves burst into the clearing. They were grouped in a pyramid, one wolf in the lead, two wolves behind the lead wolf, and three wolves in the last row.
The one in the lead, an unusual orange-red wolf, growled at the sight of Ysonne. “Get out of my way! We want only the cub.”
“No! I will not Saneth! You will be allowed over there over my dead body!” Ysonne cried, crouching in defense position.
“Ysonne, please. We want only Lionel. We don’t want to hurt you,” a silver wolf in the last row pleaded.
“I will not let my son die in front of my eyes Gareth. Even though you are my best friend, I cannot let my son die and will kill you if I absolutely have to,” Ysonne replied, spitting out the words.
“Then so it will be. We will have to attack you,” Gareth said mournfully, the words escaping his mouth slowly as if they weighed a ton to say.
“This is your last chance,” the Saneth warned with a trace of fear in her voice.
Ysonne refused to say anything but growled out a warning.
Silence and suspense settled in the clearing. All six wolves refused to move or let a sound escape into the still air. Finally, a strong gust of wind blew into the clearing, awakening all the wolves from their stillness.
“Attack!” Saneth yelled out, nodding her head at Ysonne. Her voice held fear, anger, pain, and sadness. However, her face showed no emotion, making her seem emotionless only on the outside.
Some of the wolves hesitated, including Gareth and Saneth. Only two wolves actually trotted towards Ysonne, but they were moving very slow and were clearly hesitant about attacking Ysonne.
Ysonne’s brown eyes looked disapprovingly and sadly at the two wolves approaching him. “What is the world coming to?”
The two wolves, one gray and one red edged closer and closer to Ysonne. Within 5 feet of Ysonne, they both stopped and looked back at Saneth for commands.
Saneth gave a tiny nod, barely perceptible.
The red wolf, her keen eyes seeing the nod, spoke to Ysonne. “I’m sorry, but we must do this. Do forgive us, please.”
Ysonne nodded bleakly, “Of course I will. It’s not your fault that you must follow your orders.”
The gray wolf muttered, “I’m sorry,” and then leaped at Ysonne. The gray wolf seemed to hover in midair as he dove slowly at the spot where Ysonne stood, or used to stand.
Ysonne sidestepped the attack quickly. With a large white paw, he buffeted the gray wolf head over heels gently. The gray wolf rolled through the snow to crash into a large birch. Snow fluttered and fell in bunches from the branches, covering the gray wolf with snow.
The red wolf leaped at Ysonne’s unprotected side as he turned to hit her companion. Her claws scratched Ysonne, leaving a shallow but long cut. Her eyes widened in fear at the sight of the injury she had caused. “I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically.
Ysonne’s brown eyes looked at the red wolf gently, “I’ve had worse injuries.” With a sigh, he lightly rammed into the red wolf, sending her flying into the air. With a small thud, the red wolf landed in a huge bank of snow.
The thud seemed to rouse the other four wolves.
A large timberwolf with tan and white fur loped around Ysonne, trying to attack him from behind. His amber eyes were narrowed, looking at Ysonne as if he were the prey but still showed his fear.
Ysonne started turning around in circles, trying to keep the timberwolf in his line of vision. As he spun around and around again, he finally realized that he could not see the timberwolf anymore. He tried to turn but it was too late.
The timberwolf had leaped into the air, landing on Ysonne’s back. With a growl, he slashed with his claws, leaving deep scratches on Ysonne’s back.
Instead of crying out in pain or anger, Ysonne did an unusual thing. “Do not stand on my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep,” he cried, his deep voice resounding loudly in the clearing. He shook the timberwolf off his back and picked him up with his sharp needle-like teeth. With a snarl, Ysonne threw the timberwolf straight into a tall yew tree.
Crack!
The timberwolf had hit a lower branch of the yew tree. It had made the branch break and it fell to the ground with a thud.
Sides heaving and gasping for breathe, Ysonne continued relentlessly, “I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glint on snow.” His brown eyes, blank, stared out at the air, as if he was seeing something beyond space and time.
The last wolf, a small black tundra wolf, and Gareth attacked together. Dashing side by side, they approached Ysonne.
Ysonne, eyes glazed, was pretty much automatically defending himself. His thoughts were on other things, like his son and mate. Even though he was pretty much mindless, he somehow knew that his best friend was finally attacking him. “I am the sunlight on the ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain,” he cried with sorrow and regret in his voice.
The tundra wolf sprinted at Ysonne’s face, fangs bared. With a sharp claw, he swiped at Ysonne’s eyes.
Ysonne ducked under the flailing paws and gave the small black wolf a deep gash on the left shoulder. “When you awaken in the morning’s hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, of the quite birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night,” he shouted as he attacked the black wolf mechanically. The words were filled with emotion and seemed as if they were his mind’s last farewell to all those he loved. It seemed that Ysonne put all his heart and soul into that poem, those words, that his body was defending itself automatically.
Gareth, slow and hesitant, whacked Ysonne softly on the right hind leg. Then, he backed off quickly out of Ysonne’s range in case he decided to attack.
That seemed to wake up Ysonne from his mindless state. His eyes lost their blank look and he stopped his last poem to his mate. Ysonne turned to look at his best friend. “You too?” he asked softly, disbelief and sorrow in his voice.
Gareth did not answer. His golden eyes answered for him. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. In this case, Gareth’s eyes showed grief, pain, regret, and guilt.
Ysonne sighed deeply and gave a mournful howl to the moon. His eyes brimmed with tears.
At that moment, Saneth attacked. She leaped at Ysonne, snapping at his left hind leg. A large crack was heard in the clearing as Ysonne’s right leg broke.
Ysonne quickly turned around to retaliate. He swiped at Saneth, leaving a deep and long cut from her right ear to her left cheek. With a snarl, he bit Saneth’s right shoulder, hard. He could feel the fur, muscle, and bone beneath him. With his sharp teeth and strong jaws, he quickly bit down to the bone.
Saneth, suddenly afraid, backed off quickly. She licked her shoulder, trying to stop the flow of blood. “Get him!” she yelled, glaring at Ysonne with her yellow eyes.
Ysonne sat down on the ground, broken leg underneath him. Blood leaked out of the bite marks on his leg, coloring the snow red. He tried vainly to stop the blood gushing out of his wound like a spring. However, it was to no avail. Finally, he gave up and lifted his head, muzzled colored red and pink from his own blood.
All 6 wolves were gathered around Ysonne in a circle. The gray wolf had finally dug his way out of the pile of snow. He stood next to the red wolf who had climbed out of the bank of snow. They stood side by side, their furs matted with snow and ice. The timberwolf stood glaring defiantly at Ysonne, a large bruise starting to showing on his right side and hip. The small black tundra wolf stood weakly on three legs, breathing deeply and giving out small yelps of pain whenever his left foreleg touched the snow covered ground. Gareth stood silently and mournfully at his place in the circle, eyes peering at the ground intently as if it were very interesting. Saneth, on the other hand, stood directly in front of Ysonne, eyes narrowed and growling at the gray wolf in front of her.
As Ysonne slowly turned his head to look at everyone in the circle, he said nothing, knowing that that was his last stand.
The timberwolf attacked first, lunging at Ysonne’s flank. His amber eyes flashed and he snarled ferociously.
Ysonne turned quickly to nip at the timberwolf’s muzzle. His sharp teeth made contact with mostly fur and a bit of muscle.
The timberwolf backed up, a small gash on his face. He shook his head, spraying the nearby snow with blood. With vengeance in his eyes, he attacked again, this time at the Ysonne’s face. With a heavy paw, he clawed at his enemy’s eyes.
Ysonne turned his head, trying to avoid the attack. But he was not quick enough and the timberwolf slashed open a wound right above his eye. He turned quickly, ignoring the pain in his broken right leg and plowed right into the timberwolf. Ysonne watched grimly, blood streaming down his face, as the timberwolf flew through the air to land with a loud crash.
The tundra wolf rushed in at the moment to attack, tail straight out behind him. His ears pointed forward as he rushed at Ysonne. He swiped with his claws, hard.
Ysonne bellowed in pain as the tundra wolf slashed deeply at his stomach. He lashed out blindly, hoping to hit the tundra wolf somewhere. He heard a squeal of pain and knew he had hit his target. But that was soon forgotten when the gray wolf and the red wolf attacked him together, again.
The red wolf, faster and more nimble, darted at Ysonne’s flank. She flitted back and forth, trying to confuse her enemy and attack at the same time. She crouched low, almost belly to the ground and her ears strained forward. However, it was more of a diversion than an attack.
Ysonne fell for the trick, almost. He batted the red wolf aside, sending her rolling into a bank of snow. As he spun around to face his other adversary, he felt claws rip into his side. Ysonne knew that this wound wasn’t like regular ones. This one was life threatening, just like the huge slash in his stomach.
The gray wolf sighed with relief, thinking the battle with over. He did not expect huge jaws to clamp down on his paw as he turned to leave from the look of surprise on his face. Nor did he expect Ysonne to fling him aside roughly instead of killing him.
The timberwolf returned, this time more wary and more respectful of his opponent. He zigzagged back and forth, trying to confuse Ysonne.
Ysonne watched his foe, sharp eyes trained on the moving wolf. After several minutes, he began felling weaker and more tired. His sides heaved as he took deep breathes of air, trying to stop the spinning in his head.
|
Feedback: 
