Leash The Magic

[Wolf]

Wicca

The femme stepped onto the street, and was immediately swept away by the bustling crowds. The air was alive with emotions, crackling tension, streaming fear, uncomparable joy. The beasts here were no more then exactly that, beasts. They were, and always would be. Only beasts could possibly handle such extreme emotions as these.

She sneezed, trying to block the on-pour of words, scents, sounds, feelings, and tastes that were bombarding her poor self. She tilted her head, and walked onward, letting the crowds move her. She was looking for some peace, maybe an authority who could help her find her way. All she knew was that she needed to be sorted, but the last time she had been sorted she had been under a year old, so it was virtually impossible for her to remember what she was expected to do. She remembered vagually the face of one of the Zielle, and how he had told her what was expected of her, how her life would be handed to her new pack, and so on and so forth. But where he had been, what he looked like, sounded like, anything else further then that small memory, zip.

She sighed, and started to head for the edge of the street. The crowds were shoving, pushing. It annoyed her to no end, and she was practically snarling within herself. But she held out, and was finally within a few steps of the curb. With a last surge, she pulled free of the crowd... Only to be knocked down by a huge black brute.

Her frustration almost snapped, but she figured it was just an accident. Sorry,

[/i] She started to say hurriedly, gritting her teeth hard to keep from actually growling. She fought her fur, forcing it to lie flat along her spine, but it still tingled.

Watch where you're going, you... The brute proceeded to call her some very nasty names, and actually pushed her back down onto the curb when she tried to stand.

She yelped, crying out with surprise at the harsh words and treatment. Never had someone treated her so! How dare he? That was all she could take, she just snapped.

Surging forward, she pinned him roughly, and tore at his flesh with her fangs. She dug their pearly curving tips into his shoulder, leaving a deep wound that would scar. Never would he forget the day he messed with Wicca, the Illusionist.

He cried out, and she stepped back. Her lips were curled, her fur bristled, and her eyes glared. She was a very beautiful creature, fur the color of varying molten golds and bronzes, and eyes the color of a hot day in the jungle. She had a heavy build, but at the same time was very compact, and she was obviously built for running fast, and fighting with some serious power. The black male looked at her, respect entering his eyes, probably for the first time in his life, directed to a female. She snorted, and growled, then stepped back up onto the edge of the road, grooming her unmarred fur, smoothing down the rough bristles that still shivered up and down her spine.

He had, however, provided a nice outlet for her frustration, so now she was calmer, and very confidently approached an authority she spotted about a block down from where she stood.

Hello,[/i] She said, warily watching the Zielle.[/size][/blockquote]

Comments: Sorry if this isn't the best, I'm still getting used to the site Any advice would be appreciated very much so![/size]

[»Ιmαgε]

PHRINO

Summer sun beat down upon the open grass, or what one might begin to call grass, the rugged field that this male called home. He stood from atop his authoritative rock, his eyes wandering the bustling corner of Dachau's city. Below him laid the entrance to the great capitol, garbed in the elegance that only nature could provide. Rolling out from the city laid the packs of the country, nestled deep within the protective features of the land. Somewhere out there to the southwest laid his previous pack. Both a blessing and a curse, they had been to him two summers ago. The place of sun and blistering heat, that had been his home. The flies circled over dead animals that did not make it. Buzzards of the largest size you could imagine scavenged day and night, ready to feast on whatever unlucky animal had succumbed to the sheer madness of the desert and it's unforgiving terrain. It had not been and was not a place for the wolf foredoomed with a soft-heart. . .

But that had been many moons and seasons ago. He had been a small pup then. Shipping him off to camp Attivarri was the best decision his worm-brained parents could have made at the time. All those days, learning battle moves, working in the sun with his comrades. Even though he had despised those days when his captain would order them to set up an invader patrol and run them halfway across Dachau just to run back and report that the grass had grown a quarter of a nail's length with no sign of any intrusions into their peaceful sanctuary. It had been fun, those long day of work, sweat, and somehow freedom. Freedom. What did that word mean to him anymore? Sure, he was just as free, if not more so than the wolves below or behind him. He was a leader in his patrol, a hard worker, a wolf of loyalty. Was there anything else worth living for? No. That had been decided a long time ago.

"Watch where you're going, you....!" It was then that a large yelp and a few snarls ripped out over the grounds, followed by a few more menacing growls and then silence, as had been before. Phrino made a quick leap off the granite rock, rushing to the scene just as a rather vexed-looking female of varying tan and khaki hues tore into the shoulder of another wolf. Of the male gender. She left a deep mark and the male was obviously taken aback as respect created by sheer fear blinked through his pearled eyes. Attacking of another wolf. Invalid response. Phrino's Zielle side kicked in as he began to assert his authority.

"What exactly in Brenn's name are you doing, little miss she-wolf?"

Phrino snarled out a quick warning before taking a verbal shot at the battered male.

"And you! Quit causing useless ruckus in the capitol! I should dismiss you both to the Zielle headqurters for creating such a sound!"

The male quivered with fear, a bit of blood sluggishly dripping from his new wound. He looked tired, bedraggled. Phrino sighed as he continued, his voice suddenly much more tired than before.

"However, I'm feeling a little gracious today. Off with a warning. But if I catch either of you again the consequences will be much severer, no doubt."

Phirno highly doubted the idea of him ever being in a "compliant" or "forgiving" mood would arise on the spot. These stupid lazy mongrels that wandered around the capitol in search of food or give-outs were a nuisance and an eye-sore to new wolves entering the capitol. But for some reason he found this male to have gotten what he deserved; that scar would be one that would not leave him even after he'd gone to the grave. Watching as the male bowed with appreciation and a quickly muttered "Dachau Above All" before scattering into the crowd, Phrino gave a large huff of air, trying to shake the events from his mind.

The male turned his head towards the female, giving a quick scrutiny of her physical make-up before introductions. She was a lovely tan color, sprinkled in beige hues in some parts, while others were a rich cocoa coloring. A thick body structure, yet her legs were a tad longer than most with her heavier set; running would certainly be used in combat to her advantage. With no more than a soft murmur, Phrino moved around her, beckoning with his muzzle that she should follow. This command was customary and a sort of hidden trial; would she submit or insist that she be questioned here? Most wolves would dutifully follow, unable to resist the idea of upsetting a government figure. But the rebels, they did as their name suggested and had a different set of mind. If they reacted badly a working camp in the harshest conditions would be in their close future.

"So you need a pack, then?"

Phrino began to settle himself on top on his rock as he neared the chosen place, watching as he tried to read the mind of the wolf he was to place into a pack. He ran through the options, almost surprised at the fact that he could only cross Kälte off the list of packs. This was obvious however; her brown coat would stick out like a sore thumb on the wintry slopes of that terrain. Maybe Dünen. . .

[Wolf]

Wicca

"What am I doing? Did you not hear what he was just calling me? He bumped into me!" The female cried out indignantly. Her green eyes flashed, imploring the Zielle to see the sense in this. She had had the right to attack him, just not seriously hurt. And so she had. The mark on his shoulder would scar, yes, but it was already drying out. It would be done bleeding in minutes. Nothing serious in any way whatsoever. He would be perfectly fine, but would always bare the remembrance of when a female bested him, and earned his fearful respect. She snorted. "Besides, he's not dying."

[/color] She pointed out, sniffing huffily. The Zielle had no right to blame her. Though he must have missed the beginning, and only seen her attack, or at the very least, the results. The bleeding shoulder, the bloodied maw and paws with red-tipped claws.

She seeingly calmed at his warning though. She didn't need to be sent to the Zielle headquarters for such a small scuffle. She wanted to be sorted, and then leave. This place wasn't exactly what she liked. It was too crowded, and busy. She felt trapped, enclosed, like the rabbit in a fox's mouth. It gave her the shivers, the nervous creeps. She didn't like that she had so little control over where she came and went. She wanted this male to tell her his orders, and let her go back out to the wide open spaces of whichever pack she was assigned to.

She sighed with relief when his tone softened a bit, and his eyes flickered to both wolves with a serious warning in their dark amber pupils. She looked him over while he continued to speak, and noticed that his coat was pretty similar to her own, pale tans turning darker, but instead of the rich gold on her back, his was varying shades of gray and white, with brown mixed in. His face was a mixture of browns, tans, creams, and grays. He had a fairly light build, with longish legs, and quite a bit of muscle. He obviously had experience in fighting. The scuffle he had just witnessed must be nothing like what he had probably seen in his life. Obviously, before he became a Zielle he would have had a life. To become a Zielle, that life had probably been fierce and rough training, fighting, and just living in general. Within seconds she respected him, for what she saw in him only. What she imagined from his appearance, rank, and seeming mindset drove her to believe he must be very worthy of her respect. So she gave it, at least until he broke it, if he broke it.

"Dachau Above All."[/b] These simple, and familiar words rung out in the silence following the Zielle's warning, and speech, and the black brute moved away, leaving Wicca and the Zielle brute alone. Well, at least as alone as two can be in a crowded clearing with wolves bustling around every three inches.

"So you need a pack, then?" The brute asked, and Wicca's thought trail snapped off, leaving her to fall of the cliff it had been creating, to fall back into reality. He watched her questioningly, and she let her eyes trail his body again. His eyes were a really nice amber color, she noted, almost close to her own golden gaze.

"Why else would I be in this hell hole?"[/color] Wicca snorted, then remembered who she was talking to, and coughed with embarrassment. "I mean, yes." She muttered, her eyes narrowed at the ground with embarrassment, and felt her ears heating up, though her light pelt was thick enough to hide the reddening flesh.

At his gesture she followed, eyes still on the ground, and when he settled down atop the huge rock, she did as well.[/size][/blockquote]

[»Ιmαgε]

PHRINO

"Why else would I be in this hell hole?"

The female's voice rang loud like imposing thunder throughout the clearing, her audacious voice unabashed and unashamed at first thought of her actions. At this Phrino glanced up suddenly, his pelt bristling with the weight of defending his regal country and his eyes beginning to smolder with anger. He was proud to live here, honored that he was able to serve his country as a Zielle of position. And it was becoming all too apparent that this she-wolf, however pretty she was, did not share his common ideology. Maybe her first offense hadn't been enough to send her to the headquarters, but insult to the land she currently was residing on was a one way ticket to countless moons of vengeance.

"Who do you think you are exactly? Sauntering in here, in this country of freedom, this country that denies you no home or pack to live with, like a wolf of some royal blo--"

"I mean, yes."

The vivacious male was stopped amid his torrent of words, his blood still very much up and his tail raised high in reminder of his authority versus this she-wolf's own, un-ranked self. It was an outrage! This stranger of no pedigree or relation dared talk to him with such brash words against his one true love. At least, that was Zielle policy to begin with. No mates. No reproducing into the wolf population. No relations with wolves of the opposite sex. It was a long time ago that these laws had been set down for Phrino. He was not to love, not to fall in love, not to wish to be in love. For the breaking of this pact would mean his country being lost. His country would be overrun by savages, mutts of every race, dogs, scoundrels of every birth would come and set fire to his passion. Dachau. That was and could only ever be his one true love.

Of course, all males found it in them at sometime or another to find love in means of mortal beings. Abhishri had been his. She had been stunning, the palest of tans in places and the most bright and burning reds in others. Even with a scar that tore up her jaw to the crease in her eye, Phrino had found her irresistible. But that had been at least a year ago, give or take a few moons. Where was she now? With a quick glance across the horizon, the male tried to conjure up a self-reassuring picture of her exploring Dünen's sand waves with ease, her long legged body and soft, warm fur in perfect harmony with her chosen environment. The night he had slipped out of duties to see her flashed through his memory as he regressed, his eyes wandering farther and farther to the southern border where he had seen her last. He had promised he would come back to Dünen one day, but by now too much time had passed. She certainly would have been assigned a mate in her young age.

Phrino clicked back into reality as a series of barks exploded from the center of the Sortiron. Four wolves were on the ground, biting and scrabbling for a hold, fighting with true desire. The sand-colored male was quick to let loose a sharp staccato note that sent two lower Zielles off to sort the scrimmage out. What a day. Amber optics dully looked back at this new wolf, analyzing her. She had no luster like his past love had, not nearly as much fire or determination. But she sparked an image in his head of her, an image clearer than it had been in a while. She was pretty, stunning no doubt. For all he knew Abhishri was dead. Females were never supposed to mean anything to him besides another mouth to feed, to command, control. That was his sole purpose now. Love? There was no room for it.

With his mind appeased for the moment, Phrino tried to analyze the wolf before him. Farbe? No. She was too tough, too harsh for those wolves. She would leave the authority there weak and her attitude wouldn't slip well into the pack. Asmeth brought up the same resounding thoughts in his head. Having already notched Kälte off the list, all that was left was Dünen. Oh that evil, oh so contorted pack! Why would it not leave him, even after his loyalty had been ripped, cut in two, never to be replaced? It was like a disease that would plague his for the rest of his life. No matter how hard he tried his thoughts were always of hunting rabbits on the sand dunes, the wind in his ears as he raced along the crest of earthen waves. His dreams were laced with the nights of cool patrols, watching, defending his pack even though he had always felt like an outsider, the last, unwanted pup. This job as a Zielle was only temporary. Dünen was his home.

"Tell me about yourself then. Your past. Where you want to go."

Where did he want to go? Phrino pondered the moment as he spoke the words, the two wolves lapsing into silence as cognitive thought overcame them. He wanted a family. A family that would comfort him in the low times. Accept him in the tough ones. A family to defend, to hunt with, to spend time with. He was tired of his job. He wanted out of this place. But where would he go? Phrino racked his mind to think of a time when a Zielle had been released from duty, in cases other than death. Never. It was not done.

"Tell me what you want out of life. . ."

With a strong sigh Phrino gazed at the she-wolf with admiration. She was lucky. She was not tied down to a place, another being. She was free. More free than he would ever be, he knew that well enough, however hard he tried to lie to himself at times. With a soft murmur, Phrino's mind began to fade out, and he asked a question, regardless of the fact that he already knew the answer.

"Your name, M'lady?"

[Wolf]

Wicca

She ducked her head, even more embarrassed now. "I didn't mean it. I am sorry! These crowds make me stressed out, the last time I was here I wasn't even a year old." She fished for a usable apology, extremely humiliated for making a Zielle so angry.

Wicca noticed his anger seemed to freeze, and his eyes flickered towards the horizon, full of longing. She wondered what a Zielle, forbidden to love, could possibly long for? Maybe peace? Prosperity? More power? She had no idea. At this she was at a loss. She simply gazed at him, wondering at the impossible thoughts that raced through her mind. And while he was in a seeming trance, she studied him. He was quite handsome, not ugly at all. But she would no doubt be assigned a mate soon, probably. She wasn't sure how the whole mate assignments worked, just that many wolves had it happen to them. Some liked their matches, some didn't care, and others absolutely despised each other. She hoped if she was assigned a mate, she would like him, and be glad to carry his pups, and not hate to see his face in the morning's dawn, in her pup's likeliness, beside her at night.

She snapped to attention at the snarls and yelps coming from below, and snorted as other Zielle's were ordered by the male beside her. They rushed to go stop the fight. She wondered if maybe wolves should be let to fight. A fight un-interrupted was a fight finished. One interrupted would most likely be finished later, elsewhere and much harsher. But maybe it was better this way. That fight looked like it was started of true, silly hate, and would most likely have ended in an unneeded death. "Stupid brutes," She muttered to herself.

She watched the tan male, turning away from the fight as the Zielles intercepted them, and noticed he was watching her intently. Studying her. Maybe deciding her future? She wasn't sure, but his look made her curious. "Tell me about yourself then. Your past. Where you want to go."

Where she wanted to go? Her past. Ha, a very beautiful past it was! "My past? I was born outside the known Dachau packs, to my mother and father, with a few siblings. My parents were found, and being known for rule breakers, and for not being in the right packs, they were taken into custody. My father was accused of taking my mother for a mate, instead of the femme he was assigned, and my mother likewise. They were split, my mother sent to Kälte, and my father to Sobibor. My mother died soon after, and I was put through the pack systems, and given to Farbe, where I forbiddenly fell in love with the Alpha. His mate challenged me, I lost, he kicked me out. Then I came here to be sorted for a second time in my life. That's my life in a nutshell." She laughed sarcastically. "Beautiful huh?"

"Where I want to go? That's tougher. I want to have a family, pups, a good mate. One I can love, and not shudder every time his face is near mine. Every time I think of him, or see my pups from him. Not one I was assigned, but one I have chosen. I want freedom, to hunt when I want, live where I want, be how I want. I don't want to be tied down. I want to travel. I want a real life. No offense, but I would hate life as a Zielle. I hate crowds, and responsibility. Well, I hate being in charge of others. If it were to a pack, pups, or a mate, or family, I'm all for it. Small places." She laughed, cutting herself off as she realized she was babbling endlessly and probably annoying him. She noticed him staring almost with admiration, and looked back with curiosity in her eyes. What could he possibly admire in her? He, who was at the top almost, to her, who was near the bottom. In this she was at a loss. She had no idea.

"My name? Wicca. It means witchcraft, or magic. Some call me the illusionist, because I am known for some bad habits." She looked away when she mentioned this, then looked back. "May I ask your name, or is identification against the Zielle code too?" She asked with honest wondering. Her eyes were full of wonder and questions, and she couldn't possibly start to ask them. For one, what did he think of her? Of her past, and wishes for the future? What was his life like? Did he have a mate, family, pups? A pack, or was this it? And what about her future? Where was she destined to be sentenced to? A good pack, or a living hell? He seemed annoyed by her, so probably the second option. It was probably what she deserved as well.

[»Ιmαgε]

PHRINO

"My past? I was born outside the known Dachau packs, to my mother and father, with a few siblings. ..."

From the time the she-wolf began talking, he was caught. Hypnotized by the lyrical voice that softly drifted into his ear, it was a simple yet indulging delight. He would not hear Abhishri speak again. Phrino's eyes were glued to hers, unable to break eye contact. He didn't want to come off as intimidating or somehow odd in the mind, but she radiated something he wanted, something that sparked an attraction. And the more he listened to her quickly summarized life story he was surprised to find that it similarly matched his own heart-tugging one. One of personal loss, one of long lonely nights. One of a forbidden love, torn, ripped out before there was a chance for real attraction to grow and mature.

"Beautiful huh?"

Phrino sighed, his amber eyes alight with sympathy. He could understand the loss of a loved one, the nights where a wolf could be so far down on his knees that he hadn't the will to keep going. How had she managed? Wicca was certainly stronger than he had originally expected, at least for what she had told him. The sand-colored brute relaxed a bit more as she continued on, her voice sounding a bit farther off as she vocally contemplated what she wanted out of life. A family. Pups. A pack. Everything he wanted. The she-wolf's oblivious understanding made him want to howl to the moon, and break away from his job. He wanted to let everything that he had thought would make him happy, but in the long run had not, go and simply drop it in a river and watch it, watching as all of his reservations and regulations on himself float, drifting away into the sea as he became a free wolf once more.

It wasn't fair! Why had Brenn chosen this path for him? Forget the god Zielles were supposed to stay partial to; this was obviously a punishing from his pack's patron. To be separated from a wolf that could please him, that would and could share the long winter nights and the blazing summer days by his side and wish to remain there; it was a downright lie. He had no quarrel with Männkiu or any other god of the wolves. It was Brenn, the one who had watched as he was birthed by both Misery and Deception into the desert, the one God that had let Hasden into his life with nothing more than a look of submission.

It took a moment for Phrino's rage to settle, for the boil in his heart to sit softly and lightly against his chest again. At that moment Wicca began talking again, her vocals daintily hitting the air, a sweet sound to his audits. The she-wolf held a look of questioning, her eyes glimmering right back into his as she told him what her name was. Maybe now was the time for him to move on. . .

"My name? Wicca. It means witchcraft, or magic. Some call me the illusionist, because I am known for some bad habits."

Wicca. It was a lovely name, and it suited the charming female as she sparkled before him, her coat aglow underneath radiant sunlight. And suddenly she bowed her head away, as if ashamed of the latter fact. Bad habits? What did she mean? Phrino cocked his head, a puzzled expression breaking his golden furred face. But before he could inquire about what Wicca had meant she looked back at him, posing a question of her own.

"May I ask your name, or is identification against the Zielle code too?"

Phrino glanced at Wicca, his eyes shifting a bit as he contemplated what to say. Something inside him decided not to pester the wolf about what she had been previously alluding to in her name, and so he presented her with his own namesake.

"My mother named me Phrino. For the desert."

The male's eyes were downcast, his shoulders no longer held as before but slumped, almost as if he was weighed down by some burden. His mother. Oh what a story that would make, the way she treated him all those years. And even after he had come back, she was still the bitter old she-wolf she had been before. Not an ounce of goodness in her to save her life, or her other, now dead pups. They had been lost to the desert years ago. Yet he could never scatter the nagging voice that hid in his mind and blamed his siblings deaths on him. It would never leave him, no matter how long he was allowed to walk this desolate planet.

"I suppose you want to know what pack you'll be living with?"

Phrino rustled his thin coat, shaking sand and other scraps from it as he stood up, not intending to bring up his own past at a time or place like the current. He'd never actually talked to it about anyone; no one in his patrol, no one he currently resided with, none of the other Zielles. He was alone. There was no one to comfort him at night, no one to talk to or have an excuse to visit in the packs; his dear old parents were long dead. Their departure had probably been for the best.

As the sun's heat intensified, the male's pupils contracted and he looked the she-wolf over once more before he spoke. Her long legs, and short coat would do perfectly in Dünen's heat, and she would blend in well with her multi-toned coat. As much as he hated to admit it, she was well suited to that environment. She would be well paired with him as a mate. What are you thinking? You cannot have another love. Abhishri was too much alone; and another female? Another wolf you find to be an angel? Oh shut up and quit lying to yourself, rotten excuse for a wolf. . .

There it was again, smacking him in the face for the emotions that raged like wild storms on an open bay inside him. He was usually calm, drifting where ever he wanted or was taken. But females, they stirred a certain restlessness in him. Was it just that she was pretty? Or was there something more? No! She's just a female you want some fun out of. Snap out of it. Remember the penalty if you get caught.

At those last words Phrino snapped, his face contorting into one of mixed anger and pain. That was it. There could never be a life other than the one he lived now. It was time to finally get used to the idea. With a voice devoid of any type of compassion or understanding that had previously been, Phrino announced Wicca's new pack.

"Dünen."

There was no point in staying. He would have Citlali take her to her new pack. Maybe he could talk to her, convince her that he was always rough on the outside. Citlali knew his reasons for being so arrogant, so pompous sometimes. Or at least most of his reasons. Stupid wolf pup! It will never work out. Move on. Phrino simply shook his head, a quick look of desperation as he swiftly turned away, his insides screaming for him to start talking, to not let her slip from his grasp.

"Citlali, if you would please take this female to Dünen. I am truly in your debt my dear friend. . ."

He refused to speak her name as he let the words slowly drop like lead balloons from his maw. Amber eyes glimpsed her one last time before he roughly shoved himself off the rock, falling into the crowd below. Her name had to be erased.

And yet, it was too late for him to ever forget it.

Wicca . . . .

[Wolf]

Wicca

Wicca watched with surprise. The male seemed to be entranced with her story, which confused her. What was so great about her story? To her it was depressing, unusual, and full of sorrow. Cruel and unusual punishment. Maybe that is what drew him; the uniqueness of her story. She knew it would probably interest her, as she tended to like to listen to stories. Any stories. She remembered when she was a pup, how her mother and father would sit with her right before sleep, the moon and stars shining brightly or dimly, or not at all; that didn't matter. The air could be cold, with them huddling close, or warm and gentle, where they would lounge around trying to stay comfortable and cool. Then they would tell her stories, either of their lives, their parents lives, ancient myths, stories they made up. Stories of great hunts, worthy enough to be written in the stars as shapes, of a great wolfess who earned her rights and became the moon. Any story. And then one night they told her the best story, a story of a hunt, a death, a great sorrow. Battles and love. And the next day, the Zielles had come. In great numbers, the Zielles and their helpers hunted down her family and dragged them away, her father's punishment was to be enslaved and sold to Sobibor. Her mother's was to be given to a new pack, and to be mated to her assigned male. She died before she would accept him.

The tan fae saw an intense sorrow in his eyes as she continued, filled with understanding. Understanding? It made her wonder what his life had been like. What sorrows and sadness made those eyes fill with such understanding it made her want to howl for him? What joys and loves, but especially loves? As she told her tale of falling in love illegally, he seemed to know exactly what sorrows she had been through.

That thought track got her to think of him. Rimigo, the shot black male who she had loved. Once an Alpha of Farbe, she had heard that since she left he and his mate, Delune, had left the pack, turning to the lonely lives of loners. He had been handsome, with ice blue eyes, and a personality to match. Now she wondered why had her soul let her fall for him? It was impossible for anything to come of her love, and when he discovered it, he had turned her away. Unlike many, he and Delune were happily assigned together, he loved her as much as she loved him. A happy couple, with happy cubs, and a peaceful pack. He broke her heart, and when she was trying to make her hurt esteem and soul heal, Delune caught wind of her love for her mate through Rimigo's murmurs to her that night. She went and hunted down Wicca, demanding a challenge then and there. Delune believed that if another's love were to be brought around, she must destroy that love, or destroy her own. Wicca didn't want to, but when Rimigo heard, he also demanded it. The challenge was a one-on-one fight, and Wicca quickly lost, for she was not a fighter. After that, Rimigo and Delune both chased her out, further hurting her heart.

Her amber eyes glittered, the sorrow in them fading away as she noticed his own filling with rage. She wondered why he was mad. Was it something she had said? She recoiled slightly, then relaxed as it suddenly disappeared from him, just as quickly as it had become known.

Wicca recoiled slightly more as she sensed the question building in him, then relaxed once more as he seemed to choose to ignore her comment on her name and bad habits. She was relieved he did, for if he had asked she would have told him, but she had a feeling he wouldn't approve of her habits. She had a terrible habit of lying, and deceiving. But she only did it when she felt it to be necessary.

He called himself Phrino. His mother had named him after the desert. What desert? She wasn't sure, but she liked his name. It was very unique, almost like her's. She preferred unusual names to normal ones, which you heard every day. It was just a thrill, she thought. She saw how the light seemed to die out of Phrino, at the mention of his mother. Maybe she had died? Or been abusive perhaps? She was not certain, but her heart seemed to quake as his shoulders slumped, his eyes glossed with sadness, and all happiness died.

"What did she do?" She pressed gently, her voice a soft whisper. She could understand, and relate, to a sad story. "Please tell me your story." She wanted to know why her story and his name had such an effect on him. She wanted to understand a Zielle, to know that they had lives before their authority, that they weren't all cold. That they didn't live for the law, for the chase.

Wicca sighed, sensing he would not tell her. Especially as he asked whether she wanted to know who she was going to be given to. "Yes please," She said softly. She would like to know.

The heat grew as he looked over her once again, examining her even closer then before. He was honestly considering where to put her. But before he decided, anger and pain twisted his face, causing the golden brown fae to jump, gasping with surprise. What had caused that?! It was out of nowhere, and she hadn't even been talking, so it couldn't have been her. Maybe he had some cause to be displeased with the pack he was going to place her in?

Dünen. This would be her new home. It didn't surprise her, that she was being placed into the harsh desert. The heat, the dunes, the long days and hard nights. Her fur color and weight probably made her perfect for it, and her long legs. Good for running. She sighed, accepting her future with a sense of finality. She had actually been expecting this, sub-consciously.

A wild look overtook Phrino's face, then faded into unfeeling. He stopped a wolf off to the side, telling them to take herself to Dünen. She was confused. Why was he just sending her away now? They had been having a nice conversation. It made her sad, she thought she had been starting to like him, and vice versa. It had been exhilerating. None had ever loved her, and she wanted to have a love who loved her back, unlike Rimigo.

Then, with a heavy breath, Phrino pushed himself off the rock and disappeared, while the stranger approached her. She sighed, and let her head and tail slump, with a small sadness in the motion. She would probably never see Phrino again, and now she was to be handed over to Dünen.

"Goodbye Phrino," She whispered softly, so that the wolf named Citlali wouldn't hear...

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[Pocket Kitsune]

"Citlali, if you would please take this female to Dünen. I am truly in your debt my dear friend." The utterance of his name alone had arrested the attentions of the fellow Zielle. Of late, his thoughts had been preoccupied. Both Alba and Star--two she-wolves raw within the ranks and still damp behind their proverbial ears--had been directly placed beneath his assignment. With the zephyrus sigh of winter's death rattle, bringing with it the cloying, drunken breath of spring, Citlali's months had been filled with the studious educating of the pair. Alba herself had proved a bit of an anomaly--she had come to Dachau, speaking a thick and foreign tongue. And though his intentions had been to sort her into the territory of Kalte, she had parried him with a blunt refusal.

She had chosen instead to remain at his side, and Citlali, helpless in light of the bitter iron of her will, had petitioned on her behalf that she become a Zielle. A petty thing, some of the officers had scornfully murmured among themselves. To appease a female who spoke not a single word of their tongue. Yet it had been easy for Citlali to lose himself within the lyrical lilt, the softer cadence of her strange speech. It ensnared and captivated him with such ironic grace and music, that he had felt compelled to do her this one kindness. If a kindness it had been. There were times where the male felt only guilt, that he had resigned her to this fate. For a Zielle had no true home, held no ties, no loyalties but to Dachau, and the comrades they made for themselves.

The hail, however, caused him to glance away from the two snow-pelted females with whom he'd been holding hushed conversation. Trivial things--primarily instructing them in the sorting process. The trio were stationed only a short distance away--upon a higher shelf of rock. His muzzle turned, gaze falling upon Phrino a scant few inches below. He could tell from the male's posture that he waged a war within. He exhaled lowly, a sudden sadness coloring his eyes from their typical and brilliant ocher to a duller color like the shadows draped over desert mesas. To read Phrino was in itself a gift. One that had come with time and patience alone. For though Citlali had long forgotten scent and name of his blood siblings, Phrino had long ago replaced them. He considered him to be, if not a brother by flesh-then by bond.

It was a curious thing, the bond between Zielle. It often ran thicker than blood, and had a pull stronger than the ties that united pack members. And so when Phrino put in the simple request, he muttered a quick apology to the two females, and dipped his muzzle at him in a silent nod of consent. "Of course."

In spite of his large frame, his bounding decent from the rock was graceful indeed, and soon enough his sure-footed steps carried him to ground level once more. His eyes sought Wicca's, and for a moment he said nothing. His ears, flaring nearly copper in their fox-orange brilliance, twitched once, quietly. "Come along, milady." He glanced over his shoulder only once, to ensure that she was following, before he merged with the crowd, shouldering some of the more stubborn wolves aside with a gruff word or two. Should she follow, her life would begin anew.



[We can either wrap up the journey in this thread, or close it out and start a new one in Dunen itself. Which would you prefer?]

[Wolf]

Wicca

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Wicca resigned as he left, realizing that he would not answer her question, and that she would most likely never see him again. That thought hurt a little, but she internally nagged herself. She had barely known him! But his name, his image. It would always be there, in her mind. She just hoped that if she were assigned a mate, that she could possibly forget him, or find a new place for him within her being. She doubted it though, for even those few minutes had left her mind, heart, and soul marked. Phrino.

The brute, Citlali, turned his head when Phrino beckoned, and the femme saw some understanding, some pain, in his eyes as he gazed at Phrino. She wondered what he saw in Phrino. What did he understand?

Citlali was a handsome enough male, with blond fur and gray to white highlights through his thick, curly coat. His ears were the most remarkable thing, a wondrous foxy reddish color. They were very strange, their brilliant hues extravagant against his pale body. He looked fairly powerful, with leg and muscle to spare, with a quite blocky looking build, but with just enough curve to give him the appearance of a well equipped runner as well.

He was surrounded by two even paler females, with fur the color of the snow. It almost reminded her of the Kälte pack, so she imagined that they were from there, but then she caught the accent of the one Citlali was talking to, and the language. Plus there was something to her build that looked foreign. They must be from a different country, come here. The way he was acting around them, less formal then Phrino had been with her, made her think that he was their teacher, and they his apprentices.

His bright ocher eyes were the second thing that caught her attention, as he turned to look expectantly at Phrino's call, and he came over just as Phrino's grace brought him off the rock with little to no effort. A familiar movement, from rock to earth, the life of a Zielle. She watched him go with a sadness in her eyes, but quickly turned as the new wolf came over, his movements just as graceful and familiar, so she quickly figured that he was another Zielle. Come to take the place of Phrino, obviously.

Wicca nodded, a firm understanding in her eyes as she quickly followed Citlali to her new home. She pushed through the crowds with more difficulty then he did, yet another reminder of how used to the area the Zielle were. Forever kept, locked, within the city of their homeland. Ever sorting, ever talking, never leaving. A living hell. She thought to herself, shoving aside a clump of wolves and racing after him.

[Eh, let's wrap it up here, so that my first post in Dunen can be with the Alpha or Phrino Thanks!]

[Pocket Kitsune]

The heartbeat of Zentriv was forever locked within Citlali's ears. This was the way of the Zielle--the murmurs and snatches of hushed conversation were the sighs of the city's lungs--spent hope and fever dreams exhaled in the shape of laughter, both mocking and warm--in snarls and the chant of the names of the reigning packs like the drums of war. Pulsing like a heartbeat--like a song of war beneath dusky earth and worn pads. The rythmic sway of wolves and their sun kissed bodies and exhausted stumble of paws--an inelegant dance to off-key music. The blood that coursed through the beige and cream and duns of the city's veins. And when you had known nothing but this strange madness since your first year, your steps made you graceful--attuned. Lord of the dance, indeed.

The chatter of the other wolves buzzed in his ears like a worrisome gnat circling his head--but he'd long ago learned to shut out these things. Instead, his powerful form only slowed when a Dachau hopeful blocked his path, muscling them aside with a gentle though business-like nudge of his muzzle to guide them out of both his and Wicca's path. When tempers flared and the flash of ivories met such a soft encouragement, all it took was flash of his eyes in kind and an impatient snap, ears flat against his skull, and they would cow, sidling off to the side, mute with contrition. He did not speak as they walked--but then, he rarely did. The soft-spoken male kept conversation to a minimum, unless he was Sorting or speaking to his comrades.


Every now and then, he'd stop, as if sensing that Wicca was having difficulty struggling through the crowd. Once or twice, when she took longer to press through the throng, he would circle back without a word, gently pressing his flank to hers in encouragement, and to thin the crowd and speed their progress. After all, time was short--and he had many duties to tend to. Within moments, the entrance to the city rose sharply above them--dark stone of the most vibrant and peculiar crimson, towering above their heads not unlike an accusatory fist against the blue of the sky. They passed through the twin pillars in silence, before his muzzle pointed west, and he swung sharply like the needle of a compass in that direction.


The western path, unlike the meandering roads to the other pack lands, was utterly flat. No sharp ascent or stumbling, pitted slope of earth. After a few minutes, the hard baked clay and stone of Zentriv fell away, replaced instead by looser soil of sand so pale dun in color it was nearly bleached white. Small pebbles, some transparent and tossing of small prisms of pure light--and others worn smooth and pink--were scattered among the sands. Citlali's steps quickened with excitement as the first bitter, sharp scent of sun-warmed sands entered his nostrils. Dunen. The lands that Phrino cursed and would not willingly go were, in contrast, a blessing to Citlali. For it was there his own life and begun to unfold when he first came to Dachau.

And he was well-suited to the heat. It was not long before those shimmering, restless dunes came into sight, a thin veil of shimmering heat dancing above them. But he dared not venture too far in, and so he stopped, turning to face Wicca once more. "This is where we part ways, I'm afraid. Listen closely to what I have to tell you. To the east--" and he gestured with his muzzle, "lie the main caves. This is where the pack sleeps at the height of the day. It is also where they gather to do anything else." He paused. "It is tricky to find them, especially if you're an outsider. So bear this in mind--keep the sun always at your left shoulder, and travel six miles. You'll find it." He took a breath, eyes lowering.

"The second thing you should know is that the late alpha and alphess recently...disappeared sometime late last summer. Do not expect to find them. However, you won't be entirely alone--there is, to our knowledge, still one wolf living there--Toshiro, I believe. Seek him out." He shrugged then, offering a faint, chivalrous smile to crease his lips.

"Other than that, if you run into trouble, I trust you can find your way back to the Capitol. Ask to speak to Phrino or myself, and we'll help any way we can." His muzzle dipped low then, in a bow of sorts. "Farewell, Wicca. And welcome to your new home."

[Wolf]

Wicca

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Wicca followed the male, watching as he governed the crowds with such ease. When a brute or fea dared to try and cut off his path, all it took was a sharp look or a soft growl, and then a push with his powerful shoulders, gently moving them out of their way. She gazed around, watching as the soon-to-be Dachau citizens pushed and shoved and various fights broke out, much like the one she had been in so recently. She really was lucky Phrino hadn't gone after her and punished her for both those incidents...

She jumped as Citlali doubled back without her knowing, and nudged her flanks gently, guiding her through a few tough spots in the crowd. Where he stepped, the thick knots of wolves thinned and stepped aside, letting him pass through. Respect shone in many of their eyes, fear in very few, and hatred in only one or two beasts. One of these angered brutes tried stepping in his way, simply to slow them down and cause trouble, but once again, Citlali made a gentle but to the point push, and sent the brute packing with no bruises or harsh words or anything. Wicca was amazed, and her dark eyes gazed around, watching with awe at the power of the Zielle, and of the city.

In her mind's eye she pictured Phrino making his way through the crowds with such ease, barely even glancing at the wolves who so eagerly pushed and shoved to be near him, wanting to share in his power that could set them free of such crowds, who would give them the feeling of a family, the finality of a home. His compassion would show through as he stopped fights, helped the wounded, showed those lost and alone wolves where they lived...

Twin pillars of deep crimson, the color of rusted blood, rose up ahead of them, and Wicca recognized them from when she had come to the city late last night. It was the entrance, or the exit. The way in, the way out. She smiled with a half joy half sorrow; happy to leave the crowds behind and meet her new pack, sad to leave Phrino behind. Even after knowing each other for such a short time, she just wished to see him again.

She smiled in surprise at the beauty of the path they took, heading west. At first it was boring, nothing unique besides the fact that it was one of very few smooth paths in Dachau. Then the clay disappeared, leaving an exotic array of pale sand with many pebbles of crystal and pink corral, it seemed. It was beautiful, and the sand was soft beneath her paws. The heat of the nearby desert hit her, but instead of shrinking away, she breathed in deeply. She felt a sense of coming home. The hot air didn't bother her, her short rough coat was made for the heat. Her legs were long, and her paws large, so that she would be able to run on the loose sand with ease, and her paw pads tough, keeping the ground from burning her. And for once, her coat's color blended in perfectly, unlike her growing up in the freezing cold arctic-like lands of the North. The Zielle who had sorted her there had not been paying attention, for he sent a short coat wolf to the North, where if not for her kind pack, and a lot of food, she would have frozen. And her brown coat had been a sore thumb in the land, making it almost impossible for her to hunt.

The fea listened carefully to Citlali's instructions and advice, and nodded, eager to be moving on. "Thank you Citlali," She nodded, doing a bow of sorts back, showing respect. Then she turned to the East and took off at a steady lope, her paws instantly finding their way, as if the desert was their long lost home, and they knew exactly what to do. And perhaps it was, for she was already adjusting to the sand and the heat, and gazing with awe at the amazing dunes that rose like pyramids into the sky, sighing with relief to be in a land that accepted her so easily.

[OOC: Should you reply back, or should we just close this and she and Phrino can start a new thread in Dunen?]