03-10-2019, 11:37 PM
Tristan stared at the approaching woman like he worried she had lost her mind. He came to be standing at some point, though was unaware of the exact moment he took to his feet. Brenna slunk at his ankles, both curious and frightened of the visitors. The wolf – never – as Sierra named her, continued to watch him like he was batty for not understanding.
As he stared into the wolf’s eyes, he knew them for the gold that stared back in the mirror from his own. Thorn Paw was his only connection, but that was from the Far Realm: unreal dreams.
He put a hand to his temple, images, scents and feelings flooded furious. It was like falling under the ice, he froze to shock, inches from the surface, but unable to move and reach it.
Where he stood without realizing it, he gasped and sank to his knees immediately before Never’s snout. The wolf curled a lip like it might be laughing, but the glint of teeth did not frighten Tristan.
Through the crashing of image after image he focused on those golden eyes and pushed back one of his own. A fire that streaked through open fields, the prickle of wind flattening fur, paws pounding like thunder wyld as the runner sprinted.
Sierra’s word hovered the back of his mind. Kin to wolves, he thought, and it seemed one small chain snapped from the cage around his heart. A smile touched the corners of his lips as he laid a hand on Never’s head and turned toward Sierra. “I’m Tristan Ulfarson,” he replied quietly, “A kin for wolves.”
He nodded like it made more sense than any familial connection come before. The Hidden One was right, his true name awaited on eastern shores.
A chill crept through his pants about then, and he swiped mud from his knees. The images seemed to fade then, from a roaring storm to a distant rumble. “There are more wolves aren’t there?” He couldn’t determine where, but none felt near.
“You are kin to wolf?” he looked at her curiously. “Has Thorn Paw found you also?” He tried to share the image of the melancholy wolf to them both, but was not sure of its success.
As he stared into the wolf’s eyes, he knew them for the gold that stared back in the mirror from his own. Thorn Paw was his only connection, but that was from the Far Realm: unreal dreams.
He put a hand to his temple, images, scents and feelings flooded furious. It was like falling under the ice, he froze to shock, inches from the surface, but unable to move and reach it.
Where he stood without realizing it, he gasped and sank to his knees immediately before Never’s snout. The wolf curled a lip like it might be laughing, but the glint of teeth did not frighten Tristan.
Through the crashing of image after image he focused on those golden eyes and pushed back one of his own. A fire that streaked through open fields, the prickle of wind flattening fur, paws pounding like thunder wyld as the runner sprinted.
Sierra’s word hovered the back of his mind. Kin to wolves, he thought, and it seemed one small chain snapped from the cage around his heart. A smile touched the corners of his lips as he laid a hand on Never’s head and turned toward Sierra. “I’m Tristan Ulfarson,” he replied quietly, “A kin for wolves.”
He nodded like it made more sense than any familial connection come before. The Hidden One was right, his true name awaited on eastern shores.
A chill crept through his pants about then, and he swiped mud from his knees. The images seemed to fade then, from a roaring storm to a distant rumble. “There are more wolves aren’t there?” He couldn’t determine where, but none felt near.
“You are kin to wolf?” he looked at her curiously. “Has Thorn Paw found you also?” He tried to share the image of the melancholy wolf to them both, but was not sure of its success.