Four Seasons of the Warrior (chap 1)

Weakling Cub (chap 3)

Summer, 1st year of Kai'el's reign














         Heart sat in the corner of the pack house, holding the infant again, rocking and cooing to it.


         Gimlet swore in consternation, turned, and stormed back to the public room. Unwilling to accept, or unable to help, his mate's distress over the continuously sick man-pup.


         The runt had been a difficult birth, and he had almost lost Heart in it. From the get, the pup was sickly, weak, and...well, "wrong". There wasn't any deformity gross enough that the Pack leaders, man and wolf, would call for its death, or eject it from the Pack...yet. But neither would they help. Only Heart protected it, otherwise it would simply be left to fend or die...or possibly be killed by other young pups, man and wolf.


         Gimlet growled as he dunked his tankard in the ale barrel, and practically slammed it through the table, as he dropped himself on the bench.


         "Still won't give up, and let the poor, pitiful thing die, will she, Gimlet?"


         The speaker was Rael, a younger male, who had been adopted by the pack from the populace of the people of the Green Lands, instead of born to the Pack.


         Gimlet could wish the runt had been born to the people, not the Pack. It would have had a chance, then, despite being sickly. The people of the Green Lands could afford to be more gentle and generous with those less able than normal. Within the Pack, though, "normal" would excel at anything in the physical realm expected of the people, and to be less than normal, to be found wanting, was to be waiting to die. Heart was only prolonging the poor thing's pain, and dragging out her own heartbreak, with her continued efforts. Gimlet had no instincts to deal with this sort of issue, thinking more like wolf than man, and only avoided the cold gruffness of a direct order to abandon it to its fate by pretending not to notice Heart's efforts and distress.


         "Spring litter is going to be brought from the birthing dens, and into the pack, soon." Rael observed, "It's near midsummer's turning."


         "Aye, I've been to see 'em. Some promising pups in that lot. Hopefully they choose and bind well, we've many young Pack members with nought tied to them, riding unbound wolf." said Gimlet.


         "D'ja take a good eye on that miscolor? Wha' wit' being white, black, and orange, 'e'll never be able to 'ide in the Green lands, for a hunt, but he is a pure monster in p'r'portions. I've not seen the likes of him, at that age. An' only 'eard tell of anything close. My own Gram, she was a member, until she married outside the Pack, I'm told that's probably where I got my start, from Gram's line. Inny'ow, Gram told us, when we were little, about a 'uge monster of a wolf, all pure white, when 'e stood in the moon on howling nights, 'e could be seen for miles, when ridden in show, he glowed like the edge of a blade. Stood shoulder to shoulder with Pack men, whilst on all fours. Nonetheless, this creature could, apparently at will, disappear into the grasses, and stay so unseen as to brush his nose upside another 'unter's leg, as to allow his rider to lift their blade, unnoticed. Moved with uncommon stealth, and speed, too, Gram said. Said that was the only way lines with off colors like that would stay in the stream was if the owners of those colors was better, faster, stronger, any or all, than the others in the Pack." contributed Duyeh, planting himself alongside Rael, across from Gimlet.


         "Dew? Why's it that sometimes ya drop your aitches, and sometimes you dasn't?" Rael asked, for the eighty thousandth time.


         "Dunno. Guess some of 'em got pinned up better'n others?" All three broke up in the laughter customary with this long running joke, then emptied and refilled their tankards.


         Submerging his bitterness and helplessness in drink, Gimlet didn't return to his family den until night on the gray of morning, just before the rising of the sun. Heart was curled protectively around the girl-child, face to the wall.


         Gimlet laid himself down alongside Heart, belly to her back, and gently stroked her cheek with one hand.


         "I wish I could take this pain from you, love. I wish I'd never given you the seed that doomed this child. It had to be mine, because nothing from you is any less than perfect." He whispered, a single tear fighting its way to the surface, and sliding out the corner of his eye, unacknowledged, and unbidden.


         A cooing, along with a feather-soft stroking of a silken-skinned hand along his forearm gave him a small chill. He had never before heard anything like this sound from his daughter, nor had her reach to him thusly. It was almost as if she were trying to comfort him.


         "Ridiculous," he responded to his own thought, "the pup has yet to speak really, in 4 pupping seasons, and barely crawls. She is just slightly larger than a child of two puppings. The size of a man-pup of one full year."








         Gimlet was feasting with the other bound members, with their wolf-mates at their feet, during the great feast before the introduction of the spring wolf-pups. He cast a sorrowful eye at Heart, sitting at the table of the Unbound. There were some bound women of the Pack, seated there, of course, but only to accompany their unbound children.


         Gimlet prayed that Heart would be chosen for binding, this season, after having lost he wolf-mate shortly before becoming unable to ride, from pregnancy. Some whispers claimed it was the loss of her wolf-mate that precipitated the troubles with the child.


         He was all too aware that, though Heart and the runt were seated at the Unbound table, they were being treated as if they were not quite really there. And Heart seemed to be responding in kind, absorbed in her own world.





         The feasting was over, the wolf-pups had been gorged to satiation in the birthing dens, and all was ready to begin the introduction and choosing of man-mates. All of the Unbound moved, or were placed, in their own distinct area, on the open floor, that if any of the new pups were to choose them, it would be clearly evident.


         Once all of the Unbound were seated on their spaces on the open floor of the den's great hall, an expectant hush fell over the room, conversations ending, or becoming a low murmur. The doors to the birthing dens slowly opened, powered by the cranks located near the Pack leaders, man and wolf.


         As they began opening, an eager noise, consisting of small barks, loud, excited whines, and various scrabblings, was heard.


         When they were open enough for young pups to start squeezing through the door, the most eager pups came pushing through the door, excitedly sniffing the floor and air, yipping, and barking. Exploring, many of them rushing person to person, testing the man-scent of Bound and Unbound, alike. Some of them chose their Unbound rapidly, homing in on them after just a few samplings of scent, others too excited to do anything but try to smell everything, and everyone, as the gates opened further.


         The wider the gates opened, the more pups came through, though those behind the most eager that had pushed their way ahead were more reserved and tentative, some nervous and anxious, in body language and behavior. These were much more careful about their samplings of scent and sight and feel.


         It seemed the last of the Spring pups had entered by the time the gates were fully opened, but Gimlet had yet to lay eyes on the "miscolored monster" spoken of, in rumor, for the last several weeks. But then he appeared.


         Moving, head upright, body firm, with the majesty of a natural Alpha, he entered slowly, in a seemingly practiced measured step.


         At only 3 months old, he stood at the shoulder, fully to the bottom of the ribcage of the average male human Pack member. His coloration was striking, breathtaking, even if it was a miscolor. His belly was silver-white, all the way through the underside of his muzzle, with some of his black markings making their way partially into that portion of his thick, and apparently fine, fur. His tail and main body were a stunning copper-gold tint, marked with stripes, slashes, and bolts of black, some feathered with white or orange, some pure darkness. His head seemed to radiate the black markings from the nose, backwards, over the red-gold of the main color, with a blaze along the top of the nose that split into an almost mask around his eyes. Collective awe silenced the room for a moment, before excited murmurs filled it again, with a sussuration of noise.


         This regal beast raised his nose, and took several samplings of the scents in the air, before bringing his head back down to survey the room visually. His eyes belied a spark of intimidating intelligence. he lifted his nose again, sniffing in several directions, as he shifted his head, side to side, slowly pacing forward, as he did so, weaving his course for a step here, a step there, but generally in a fairly straight line.


         Gimlet recognized that this beast was making its way slowly towards Heart, with a hopeful start in his own center. Maybe Heart would be gifted by the binding to such a magnificent animal, a gift of such support that she might have the support and fulfillment needed to survive the eventual loss of her daughter.


         A rapid tattoo echoed in his chest, as the animal continued towards her, finally coming to a stop directly in front of her. Almost all of the other pups that would be Bound had chosen their man-mate, and settled, curled, in front of them.


         The wolf, beautiful, and dangerous, huge, and destined to be nearly as large as a breeder-bull of the pack and draft animals of the people's farmers, lowered his head, to sniff at the bundle in Heart's arms, and Gimlet's heart fell, certain that the animal would reject her, because of the surely weak and wanting scent of the girl in heart's arms.


         Instead, the wolf raised its head, and cocked it, seeming to consider Heart curiously. Moving forward, he sniffed Heart more intensely, face, neck, arms. His nose led back down into the hollow formed by her arms, holding the girl-child, and back up. Then stepped back, and looked with apparent concentration, stepped forward again, and buried his nose in that hollow, yet again.


         There was an unmistakable giggle from within, then this prospective king of wolves withdrew his head only slightly, and gave a great lick, tasting the child.


         He burrowed with his nose into Heart's resisting arms. Heart, clearly terrified that this beast was going to harm this weakling man-pup fought to hold the babe more tightly to her, but the strength of the wolf's questing nose slowly prized the girl from them, pushing the baby, surprisingly gently, to the floor.


         There was still a low and constant ebb and tide of murmured conversation, but now it was curious and disbelieving.


         The monster pup wandered in a circle around the child, who had shifted itself to a crawling position. Sniffing from every angle, the wolf seemed almost confused. Then, looking straight into the face of the child, he leaned in, and the most confusing of things happened. The baby, unable or unwilling, to this point, to use anything resembling words to communicate, said a single word, so quietly as to be easily missed.


         "Gentle." was that word.


         Gimlet's jaw dropped in shock, Heart's eyes flowed with tears, but they had turned to tears of tentative happiness.


         The wolf stepped forward, head directly above the girl's, and the girl reached up, over her head, grabbed a tiny fist full of fur, and pulled herself to her feet, widening the eyes of all around.


         The wolf stood stoic and still, as the girl, using grips of fur to support her untested and untried walk. Moving around him, stroking, petting, feeling. All the while, Shaian, Gimlet used Heart's name for the girl, to himself, for the first time since her constant weakness and poor health surfaced, was crooning a song, mostly wordless, that was more calming and soothing to all in earshot than any traditional lullaby.


         The crooning gave much the same feeling as lying on the grass, back against your contented wolf-mate, on a warm and lazy day, near a quietly moving creek or river, nothing more important than to occasionally pull in your line with another fish on it, the few words seeming like bubbles of motherly comfort rising to the surface.


         When she came back around to the wolf's head, holding to an ear to support her weight, she stood directly in front of him, staring into his eyes.


         Silence had taken the room in a wave as this went on, and the tension was palpable. No pup in living history had been so patient and stoic as a child pulled, tugged, and shuffled his or her way around. Most wolf-pups had to be taught, as did the man-pups, to bear with the behaviors and limits of their counterparts, and there would be many yelps, nips, growls, and crying, during such learnings.


         Giggling quite distinctly, Shaian exclaimed, very clearly, "Airik!". The wolf flicked its head forward, nosing her in the center of her chest, knocking her, squealing onto her bottom, on the floor. He then curled himself around her, as protectively as Heart ever had, and started to lick her vigorously, to the sound of delighted, and helpless laughter, and the sight of her little hands playfully pushing and tugging at his face, and fur.


         Amazed and dumbfounded clamor broke out throughout the hall. Gimlet didn't even notice, in his shock over what he'd just observed. The girl, chosen by such an imposing wolf, and that wolf standing stock still as she examined it, as if she would refuse the Binding, if she found flaw. Of her holding herself to foot, for the first time. Of her singing. Of her clear naming of her wolf-mate.


         What Gods had laid such a complex and indecipherable plan?


         He finally remembered his Heart, and looked at her, only to find her smiling as he hadn't seen since Shaian's birth, while tears, clearly joyful tears, flowed freely down her cheeks. He watched her with such burning love in his chest that it hurt, so glad for her to be happy, for any reason, at last.


         She finally looked at him, met his eyes solidly. She stood, and rushed to his arms, opened to claim her as she began her run. When she hit him with the force of a yearling pup at play, he gasped his air out in a grunt, unable for a moment to make sense of her burbling and rapid speaking.


         Momentarily, though, he began to make some sense out of the jumbled "She walked! She spoke! She sang! Chosen! By a great lord like that! She'll never face pity and accusations of being unfit for the Pack, again! Our daughter, Gim, our daughter!"


         He couldn't help chuckling, as he squeezed his Heart, more the reason for his life than the one that beat in his chest.