Bright, early morning sunlight gleamed upon the newly thawed landscape, shining from the pale, luminous, brilliantly-colourless sky. The sun, recently ascended over the horizon, hung just above the swooping gap between two jag-peaks of the mountains, etched against the eastern rim of the land. Tall, spindly, tapering and pointed as thorns, they were silhouetted black now against the magnificent radiance behind them.
Their base flowed evenly into the broad, curving, shadowed expanse of a shrub-patterned plateau, which circled around their front. Water roared out from a deep, twining cavern in the ragged lower face of the prominence and streamed over a lip of rock, descending to the high ground below. On the right flank of the peaks, a dry, unprotected, yellowish scrub-plain extended onwards to the margins of the horizon, bathed in the full, unobstructed glare of the sun.
Directly in front of the summits, below the steep, abrupt cliff-face of the plateau, vibrant, dense thickets of lush grass soon vanished under the rambly shroud of skeletal, spidery, scraggily knotted trees, whose ranks reached to the east and west some little ways, and sprawled southwards through the plunging gorges of the narrow, sheer-sided valleys for a fair great distance. On the left periphery of the mountains there was nothing except a very slender band of land, beneath which beat the steady pulse of the ocean, tugging back and forth against the beaten rock face. This strip of ground branched outwards, curving in a slim arch away and then back towards the precipitous, untrustworthy coastline. Where it touched solid landmass again a wood stopped a little before it, bare now so early in the new warmth of spring, sloughing off its slimy coat of wet from last night's rain in a steady dripping pattern.
A near-silence held for a moment. Suddenly, ferns rustled, breaking the quiet air, and a white face emerged into the open. After a heart-beat, the wolf pulled the rest of herself into the small grassy turf. She was small, still not fully grown, but no longer overly cub-like in appearance and already sturdy and strong. Her fur was not truly white but off-tinged, very slightly greyish, darkening a little along her back, the upper side of her tail, her neck, ears and around the sides of her face and forehead. The wolf's yellowish eyes were now gazing out at the dark surface of the sea beyond, thinking.
Calatone stood there, staring for a moment at the cold, midnight-coloured water of the ocean, patterned constantly with breaking white crests. There was nothing very interesting in it – she had gotten over her amazement at the sight of open water quite a while ago – but she needed to take her mind off her thoughts, and off the crawling of apprehension in her gut. She flicked her ear, annoyed at the slow tickle of a train of water slipping down it. She huffed, jerking her equally bedewed coat, but it didn't have much effect. Traveling through the soaked, trickling woods hadn't drenched her, but it had made her pelt damp and sticky with moisture, Calatone's least favourite condition of wetness. Fine sight she'd make, too, to be packed off to. A tendril of unease tautened inside her and she glanced away swiftly, trying not to let those sort of notions spring her into full-blown gnawing-her-claws-off mode. She didn't understand, entirely, why she was so worried. After all, she reminded herself, no one's allowed to hurt you. Still... Being run off to a pack of recently hostile strangers couldn't help but wake misgivings in her. Though this was a peace movement, she couldn't really anticipate how she would be received, no matter what formal acceptance she was supposed to be shown.
Calatone realized she was letting her gaze meander off towards the ugly mess of Thornwood. She'd pass that on her way over the land-bridge. Another thought hopped into her mind, but, just then, there was a sound of passage through the foliage behind her, and she swung round as a whitish, grey-ruffed head slipped into view.
“Ras!” she called, grinning suddenly at the sight of the she-wolf, “Don't sneak up on me like that, if I was a bit more skittish you'd had made me jump!” Koras, tall, muscular, solidly-shouldered, with a back and upper tail and neck solidly grey as a storm cloud, squirmed herself fully out of the tangle of greenery and flicked her pelt, sending droplets of water dancing everywhere. “Well you're not, so who cares?” she replied, grinning back in a friendly, mischievous way, yellow eyes glimmering. “What took you so long anyway?” Calatone asked cheerfully, feeling her heart lighten now that Koras was here, if only for a little while. “I was here ages ago.”
“Rubbish,” shot back Koras, still smiling. “And anyway, Fall me if I didn't have to break through every single thorn-blast-it slimy twig in the forest!” Calatone blinked and smirked. The young she-wolf was just as slick with wet as herself. Calatone leant forward and up on her tip-toes, trying to spy any sign of another figure emerging out behind her. “Where's Mother?” she asked, still peering around her. Koras gave a little shake of her head. “Kilodra's still coming. You know how Mother feels about treading through mud.”
Calatone blinked. It no longer really felt strange for her to call Kilodra her mother. Koras wasn't in actual fact her sister – she was her cousin. Kaiault, her mother and Calatone's aunt, had died birthing her, and Kilodra had looked after her and Calatone herself when she arrived six moon-turns later. Kilodra hadn't always been comfortable with Koras acting as such, not wanting to steal the title from her lost sister, but she had always assured them that she did not remember Kaiault, and that Kilodra had always been that figure in her life. And anyway, Koras was and would never be anything else but her elder sister, no matter what they truly were.
Koras sniffed suddenly. It brought her back to the present. She looked up, finding that the stormy-grey-backed she-wolf was peering intently into her face. “How you feeling, Cal?” she asked quietly, holding her gaze sympathetically. Calatone smiled awkwardly and glanced down at her paws. “Nervous. I don't know what to expect. And I'm really going to miss you,” she admitted, raising her head and staring heartfeltly at her foster sister, feeling an ache rise in her chest. Calatone was only very little past six moon-turns old. Although she had naturally fallen into an easy, confident connection with the rest of the clan, Kilodra still had a great effect on her life, still could be drawn on for such comfort and caring words, still could be counted on to be there when she needed someone who knew how to make it seem like tomorrow would be a better day after some miserable taking-down. Yes, she was going to miss her mother with a hard, hard longing after she left, especially since she didn't exactly envision being welcomed with roses like some long-lost cub. And of course, it was the same with Koras.
Her sister smiled sadly. “And I'm gonna miss you, too, Cal,” she replied earnestly. Calatone swallowed the lump beginning to constrict her throat. Irritation suddenly sparked in her, watching Koras's quiet, wishful face, irritation and desperation. “Errgh! I don't understand why I have to go! Why can't they send someone else? Why me? Why make me sacrifice six moons of my life? Can't she come to some other arrangement?” she blurted angrily, in a pouring of feeling and thoughts and agitation, whisking her tail sharply. Koras's expression softened even further. In her quietest, kindest tone, she said; “Oh, Cal, I think you do understand. Things are very bad right now. It's very hard to trust the Ravens at this point, or for them to trust us – so hard that this is really the only thing that will work. I don't like this any better than you do, but...” she veered her gaze off for a moment. “Try to be brave, Cal, that's my sis. Think of it like this – you could very well save the whole pack, just by what you're doing. And anyway...” she added, glancing around her with exaggerated secrecy, grinning mischievously. “Why, you'd be like our little spy. After you come back, you could tell us everything there's ever to know about a pack of ravens. We'd catch them out at anything.”
Calatone somehow managed to find it in herself to grin back, grateful of Koras's endeavours to lift her spirits. “And anyway,” continued her sister with a frank, amused, lets-face-it look, “they could never send Karieda.” Calatone chuckled, unable to help herself. Karieda was her best friend, and in an amiable, good-natured way, rival. She supposed she had to admit that she and the young thick-necked she-wolf weren't entirely much alike. While Calatone, if she considered herself, was, she guessed, fairly tough and resilient, smart and quick-thinking; but not hugely brilliant or visionary, calm enough to deal with, Karieda was bold, totally outspoken, sharp, imaginative, and most of all, able to completely sweep you off your feet. Taking others utterly by surprise was one of Karieda's favourite past times. She also had a very stubborn trait of challenging authority figures who she didn't believe wholly deserved so much respect, which was precisely why she wasn't being sent off to be fostered with the rival group the Ravens for six moon-turns. They were trying to cool a tenuous, touchy situation, not inflame it.
Perhaps this sharper, meaner-looking side of Karieda could put most wolves off of her, but the truth was that was only her most impulsive facet. Karieda could also be kind, even gentle, understanding, and most of all, she knew instinctively where Calatone was hurting, knew the reason why, and knew what to say to draw the pain out. She sighed under her breath. She was going to be in sore want of her friend's snappish, stead-fast defence, she suspected.
She was about to say something herself, when another approaching ruckus of the underbrush being tossed and butted about, branchlets splintering underfoot, and muffled, grunting, annoyed puffs of breath heralded the arrival of Calatone's mother, who, with a final cross huff, pulled herself into full view, yanking her caught left forepaw along with her. “Hi, mother,” she said cheerily, smiling. “You're only like...” she paused, lifting her gaze to the brightening sky, play-considering for a moment. “Ten seasons late.”
Kilodra wasn't paying her very much attention at that precise point. “So would you be, if you were trailing half a tree-load of mud behind you,” she muttered distractedly, busy smearing her muck-spattered left paw on the grass in some fruitless attempt to restore it to its former clean, dry self. Calatone caught Koras's eye and winked playfully. Her sister just closed her eyes in a smile and shrugged her weighty shoulders, as if to say, Well, told you so.
Calatone looked back again to her mother, and suddenly, without warning, she felt all the liveliness and chirpiness fade from her face, felt sadness and a strong, twisting, yearning anxiety well up inside her and threaten to stop her breathing, as if Kilodra might all of a sudden disappear, or die on the spot. She didn't want to leave this beautiful, kind-eyed hub of generous, constant, never-failing love. She didn't want to be shoved off. It was all too frightening. Who would stand up for her there? Who'd be a friend in the weird sea of faces that she'd be besieged by for half the moon-season? Stop it, she snapped angrily at herself, but it was no use – at least, not much. Funny, or perhaps weak, as it might sound, she could only truly face things when she was out of the heat of her emotions. She would find that that courage rose inside her when she'd set her paws on the road, but it riled her that she couldn't be tougher then that.
Calatone blinked, drawing in a deep, steady breath, endeavouring to calm herself down. She didn't want to waste her last moments with her family all worked-up and distracted. She focused again on her mother. Kilodra had stopped attempting to clean her paws now, meeting her only daughter's eyes, concern and love mixing in equal parts. “I'm sorry, Cal, I know I should have got here already, but -”
“No, it's alright,” Calatone put in quickly, flicking her tail to cut her off. All at once she felt awkward. Kilodra, of course, was not like Koras, not a reflection to be dealt with, and she felt like she either wanted to sit on her or hide. Calatone watched her, feeling tight as a constricting snake's coils, for a breath. In her heart of hearts, she knew she was not precisely a spitting likeness of her mother. Even at this early stage, it was plain that she was and would be stockier, greater built – although likely no more powerful – in her body, shoulders and haunches, neither as lean or as long-legged. Her mother's fur, too, was more inclined to a slight hint of creaminess then Cal's own silver tinges, although there was the same reflected patterns on their upper bodies. There was one thing, though. The one thing that belonged to them both. Cal's eyes were her eyes. They were neither yellow nor green, but both – hazel-yellow. Bright, perfectly viridescent-otherwise-tinted yellow, and beautiful – well, at least on Kilodra, as far as Calatone was concerned. She wasn't as smitten with her own face as Karieda might be to start flattering herself.
Calatone breathed through her nose, coming back to the present situation, feeling just about as uncomfortable and tight inside as she ever had in her entire live. Kilodra, funny enough, seemed almost as uneasy as herself. Cal drew the air deep into her chest, dreading and yearning for the next moment in a brief, fierce, painful combination that was enough to make her feel dizzy. Yearning, because she wanted to hold onto these last heart-beats for as long as she could stretch them, and dreading, because this was going to take awkward up to a whole new level.
Her mother huffed thickly and slowly through her nose, running a paw over her muzzle absently, gazing off into the rising sun. Cal waited. “Well...” she began hesitantly, then suddenly picked up pace, as if snapping herself out of a dream. “Ninth pass already. You're going to have to be pretty swift on your paws to make it there by midday.” There was enough lightness, and steadiness in her tone that it made her lift her head a little. Kilodra believed she'd be fine – she could do this. Still, there was worry pricking her pale, pretty face as she observed Calatone.
“You sure you're going to be alright?” she asked, frowning in concern. “Look, I've always said Fostering was a little on the nuts side, we could ask Calidra to -”
“Mother,” intervened Calatone, before she could press on, “Calidra's not going to change her mind. We've been through this twelve hundred times already. Anyway, Rak's expecting me to hold up our end of the deal. I'm not going to look like a coward,” she asserted, meeting her mother's gaze. In her heart, she knew that was true. Even though this whole thing was slightly intimidating, well... She'd cleared her head enough to resolve not to be afraid. She wouldn't have had the courage to call herself a Northener if she couldn't muster that. And, anyway... she kinda of liked the challenge. A little. “Not to sound pushy, but I was hoping you'd say that,” her mother replied, smiling with pride, even if there was a tiny margin of sadness to it. Calatone grinned back. “Anyway, you know, it's all that...” She stared up, trying to grasp the appropriate words. “Uh... “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?”
There was a faint, muted sound of disbelief over to her right. She looked over. Koras was goggling at her with wide, shocked eyes, as if she's just sworn something terrible. She winced, realizing belatedly that thatwas probably not the best thing to say. “Um, I mean... it's all that character-building stuff, that's it,” she corrected quickly, smiling sheepishly, although she couldn't restrain herself from grimacing at the end.
That was exactly what Calidra, leader of the Northerners, to whom Calatone belonged, had said when she justified this waste-the-most-important-six-moons-of-my-life venture. Calidra was known for her cruel streak, and Cal had never entirely liked her in all the moon-passes of her young life that she had known her. Kilodra blinked.“Well,” she began briskly, giving a minute little jerk of her head, as if to chase bees out of it, “I guess then you'd better be on your way.” The pale-pelted wolf fixed her with serious, although not unkind, eyes. “I want to run through a few things, before you dash off, though, just to make sure -”
“Mother,” interrupted Calatone, not able to help herself. “You do know we've been over this more times than I can remember already?,” she said, smiling. Kilodra rolled her eyes. “Cal, it's a mother's thing. Do me a favour and come over here.” Calatone snorted, amused, but trotted over to her anyway. Koras, following her, caught her eye and grinned mischievously. She returned the gesture, a little uncertainly, puzzled at the content. She could guess that her sister wanted to say something, but she couldn't quite imagine what. She halted in front of her mother, waiting patiently for whatever last-moment prep talk she wanted to offer, savouring the few more heart-beats presented in her company.
Comments