Tracks Of the Wolf Part !

i would like to point out that the dragons in my story take a human form from the moment they are named, With training or luck they can retake dragon form on will and if they can, a name change is given. us, or ius is added to the end. If you have any questions about these dragons please don't hesitate to contact me.


“ In the beginning there was fire…

beneath the fire there was earth, above it air. And from that the first dragon came, fire bursting from his mouth, his body covered with smooth earth, his wings moving the air around him…”

So goes the story of the dragons, as simple as that, a creation of a greater race blessed by some great force. Always watching… always guiding.. the dragons called it the Eye. Humans gave it many names, God is one of the well known ones. Each represented the force powerful enough to form the earth.

“ the dragons grew on this hollow land, lording over soil, flame and breeze. Nothing else existed, nothing else was important. One dragon was different, he could not summon the fiery breath, he could not tame the sir and take flight, his flesh was soft and free of scales. The other dragons leapt upon him, destroying his weakness. They sliced his throat, spilled his blood. Clear blood ran from his throat, dripping onto the bare earth. From the soil sprouted plants, birds filled the skies and animals roamed through the forests and fields. Still his blood spilled. Clear blood covered the fires, putting them out, except for one which warmed the animals and gave them sight. Still his blood spilled. Clear blood covered the land, forming oceans and rivers. From the sky his blood rained. The dragons opened their mouths and drank his blood, and they were not one but many, Fire, Magma, Earth, Water, Storm, Air, Rock and Metal, they were light and darkness. Theidus, the god of life, died for the life of every other beast and bird, he gave the dragons power… and because of him they ruled…”

Fenrir stood at the edge of the forest, merely a boy of fifteen. A short bow was slung over his back, a shiny new dagger at his side. Dark brown, chin length hair covered his head and cloudy ice blue eyes. His father a tall stocky Earth dragon placed a hand on his shoulder.
“ Today my son, you prove that you are worthy to become a man. Remember your training and you will be fine...”
Fenrir smiled as he remembered watching a huge mountain cat, his father explaining what traits helped a creature survive.
“ Strength, never kindness, patience, not ignorance. Teamwork in some cases but never kindness, kindness loses you your meal, it may be your last if you do not get enough to eat and are too weak to hunt again.” He remembered seeing the cat stalk and kill a deer for up to an hour, before hunting it down with a grace and power Fenrir could never hope to have.
“ Respect, “ his father finally added, “ respect for he stronger, for the smarter. You stay alive if you don’t pick fights with the stronger creature.”

Fenrir tried to stand taller, he took a quick look down, then resumed looking forward, towards his goal.. the forest. This was not a time for fear, a feeling he hated with every fibre in his body. He took a big breath and exhaled, lingering over the scents he took in. The strong smell of grass and sap, the hint of perfume from the spring flowers. With out looking back he ran into the forest, no longer a boy and no quite a man.

He didn’t know how long he ran. Fenrir easily jogged between the tree roots, one idea in his head. He had to find the herd of deer that passed by here days ago. He paused every now and then to check tracks and trails, scanning for any sign of the deer.

His mother and father were earth dragons, they ran a farm, east of the citadel, near the mountains. It was just outside of a small town called Brokenash. Fenrir had not inherited their powers, sadly he had none, a fact he denied. His father taught him everything he could about nature, how to hunt and survive, how animals and plants function and survived depending on what they were. Fenrir watched the world, he grew plants by hand, and sometimes for fun, used sticks and string to change the shape they grew at. The garden was full of wacky plants he had trained. His mother loved animals, she even had a pet rat with one huge deformed stump for a hind leg. Fenrir hated the rat, it was fat and deformed without and grace of dexterity. His mother said the leg was bitten off by another animal. Fenrir doubted that the greasy, fat, black lump probably bit off it’s own leg so it wouldn’t have to do anything for the rest of it’s life. His father said that the rat should die, anything weak or deformed and not capable of survival should die. Fenrir thought that was evil, but it made sense and would happen anyway in nature, so in the end it was just the way it normally went.

Fenrir stopped, inspecting some tracks. These were the deer tracks, there were also boar tracks. Sighing he looked up at the sky, it was growing dark. If he could catch the boar before night fall he might have dinner. It was heading in the same direction of the deer and had passed after them. Fenrir began to run again, his hide boots making no sound on the forest floor, scanning the bushes an plants for edible fruit and roots.
The moon looked down at Fenrir as he finally came to a stop. He snarled and began collecting wood, breaking a branch off a dying sapling to help brush the leaves away and make a fire. He settled down at the base of a tree. Using flint he set the wood alight, scowling at the green wood and the smoke it gave off. He sat down and searched through his pack for the orange roots he had stolen from his mother’s garden. Hiding in the big trees roots, he settled down, wrapping his jacket around him… Fenrir slowly faded to sleep.

Fenrir Jerked from his restless sleep, something had disturbed him. He paused, trying to recognise the sound. It was an animal… or rather a pack of animals. He got up kicking leaves and twigs onto the dying fire, sending it flaring up like a beacon of fury. He picked up one of the branches and threw it off into the night. There was whimpers and a squeal, then the sound of many animals quickly escaping the hungry flames. The sky was beginning to lighten. Fenrir kicked dirt over his fire to put it out, then stumbled to the burning branch, putting it out as well.
“ I should catch them today,” he muttered to himself. Fenrir grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, then slung his quiver and bow over his shoulders. He search about in the half dark for the signs of the deer, then took up the hunt again.

The tracks lead him to a small stream, Fenrir dropping down to drink and fill a water skin at his side. The deer were eating as they moved, he had found several traces of saliva on the branches of the tree’s surrounding the tracks. Past the stream more tracks joined in with the deer’s delicate hoof prints. They were deep and that of a pawed creature. Fenrir did not hunt alone today.

Ever since the arrival of the dragons to Terra Du Auras, the natural creatures had been hugely affected. Over about 1000 years they had grown stronger and larger. The creatures developed a sense of language that the magic of the dragons could tap into and allow communication between different species. The wild horses had grown amazingly under constant contact with the dragons. They sprouted great feathery wings and organised themselves into three separate groups. The snow lions, plain cats and mountain cats as well as any other feline had organised themselves under the rule of a cat lord, a once-mortal-god. The birds of the sky flew under the command of a similar Bird lord. Only the wild silver wolves, great black worgs and brown, meadow jackals obeyed no god.

By midday Fenrir had caught up with the deer, tracking them slowly with his bow and arrow ready at any moment in case the herd broke. He wanted a stag, killing a stag proved you were a survivor, that’s what he wanted his father to see him as. Most of the stags were tall young bucks, in their prime with a magnificent set of horns on their head. There was one, an older stag that travelled towards the centre. He walked slowly, his horns to heavy for his tired body and they weighed him down. Fenrir had picked his target.. all he had to do was get him out of the middle.

A ripple ran through the herd, they panicked and began to gallop, wolves circling about the outer edges. The herd swerved and headed straight for Fenrir’s hiding place. Fenrir swore, then ran, leaping onto a branch of a nearby tree and climbing up into it’s heights. The herd thundered underneath, mothers, fawns and his stag bringing up the rear of the herd. Fenrir drew and arrow and set it in his bow, aiming down into the herd. The stags horns acted as a target, Fenrir pulled back on the string, the released the string snapping back into position with a loud twang. The stag doubled over, bellowing in shock and fear, an arrow firmly implanted in it shoulder. Fenrir couldn’t help a sense of joy running through his body, quickening his blood and filling him with a slight thrill he always had.

The herd passed on beneath, unaware that their ageing brother had fallen. Fenrir swung down from the tree, carefully approaching the wounded stag. It bellowed and struggled, blood spilling onto the ground. Fenrir knelt down beside it, looking into its deep black eyes, he put his hands beneath his neck to catch the blood. The deer seemed to relax as he stroked its soft hide, slowly its eyes closing as it was sucked into deaths sweet embrace. Fenrir watched it’s eyes close, he lifted his hand covered in the deer’s blood and touched its eyelid and forehead with its own blood. Then like a traditional hunter, lifted his hand to his mouth and drank some of the blood. It was warm and metallic in taste, but sweet and strengthening like his mothers herbal teas. Fenrir was completely unaware of the wolves that approached until too late.

The alpha male growled, deep and low like the rumble of thunder across and grey sky. The pack was small but solid, 5 adults plus 2 pups, the huge black alpha male a few steps ahead of the rest of the pack. Fenrir rubbed his hand in the dirt, then across the deer’s hide leaving burgundy streaks on its brown skin. The wolves watched with a hungry interest.

“ Pack kill…” growled the wolf, hie lip rose to expose lines of white sharp teeth.
“ I killed the deer, you go hunt the rest of the herd,” snarled Fenrir, trying to look as fierce as possible.
“ No! pack hungry now, pups starve…” The wolf’s back bristled. The pack joined him, the pups adding their own rasping growls. Fenrir did not move, he would not let his stag go to the pack. The alpha male leapt at him, and wrestled Fenrir to the ground. Fenrir drew his dagger and fought back. They rolled about in the leaves, snarling and biting at each other with tooth and blade. The wolf clamped his jaws around Fenrir’s throat, Fenrir dug his knife into the wolfs shaggy neck. Life blood spilled onto his hand from wolf and boy, blending together into one dripping red mass. Minds blended until Fenrir was unsure who held the knife and who wielded the mouth of teeth. He pushed himself off, he fell to the ground and rose triumphantly over himself. He fell into black oblivion and the two minds flew into the one body.. forever changed and dead.

Fenrir looked at his hand, then at the dead wolf at his feet. The pack whimpered and slowly stepped forward, licking the black wolf’s wounds and smoothing down his pelt. Finally the huge silver alpha female lifted her head and howled out her pain for her lost mate and pack brother. The rest of the pack joined her in the bitter sweet song. Fenrir ripped off his jacket and wrapped it around his throat, gasping for air. He fell to his knees and coughed up a mouthful of blood. The wolf blood raced through his body, through his heart, through his mind. He still remembered, two minds as one mind… forever, he would remember. Fenrir closed his eyes and howled out with the wolves, a terrible and savage song, feral and inhuman, the twisted scream of a man an howl of a wolf…

The wolves stared at him, they seemed enchanted by his howl.
” you kill, you leader, wolf-blood,” barked the silver female.
Fenrir smiled weakly, then collapsed into darkness.