“Start wid’ yo’ name an’ well take it from there,” J-Dub replied.
From watching the facial expressions of the other, it was evident that there was a familiarity between them perhaps not personally but the significance of knowing ones previous pack was enough to smooth over the tension which teetered on the brink of bloodshed. There was a comfort that seemed to wash over the trio as they laid there, their forms melding into the blankets and pillows beneath them. Anger had been quelled and, quite frankly, had it escalated any further it would have clearly spelled out danger.
Silently, the black feral nodded. “Name’s Cellen—I use to call the Outrider pack my home." Home. Even the word felt strange. Sadly, he couldn't even recall the last time he had ventured into the pack lands. "I was born into the pack but never got the opportunity to meet fellow pack members.”
In reality, he had barely met anyone aside from those within his family and nor had he expected anyone to remember him. The question even now still remained; was anyone from the Outriders still alive? Was his family safe? The Outriders had a loose structure—Mokai could come and go as they pleased so long as they obeyed pack laws and kept themselves true to their lineage and to the legacy of those who came before them.
“We did too,” Rust began. “Well, that was until things started getting out of control. Humans found the pack territory and either loaded up Mokai in large wooden crates or dragged them back to their settlement—their own pack territory.” The thought of where the Mokai who were corralled into those large crates made her stomach twist and turn with a sickening sensation. Wherever they were to be taken, Rust was damn certain that it would only lead to heartache and a means to an end.
“J-Dub and I stuck together but ended up getting caught and dragged back inside the humans’ settlement.”
"We los' a lotta good souls back 'dere," J-Dub sighed. "An' I don' think we'll see 'em anytime soon. Dem humans are really tryin' ta' snatch up all the ferals and make 'em pets. s**t like da't ain' righ'."
"The pack's probably obliterated now---I don't think anyone's left."
Cellen swiveled his ears slightly. If there was one thing that he cherished about the Outriders it was that the land itself was a sanctuary as well as a blessing for any forlorn soul. Perhaps it was the emphasis on valuing the individual and ones inherent feral instincts which became enticing for others to live life as it was meant to be lived; to be free. But times had changed. That alone was more than evident.
"Not even the Elders have sought help?"
"Hasn' helped a damn thing," J-Dub said, with a jerk of his head downward. It shouldn't be possible to put that much bitterness into a voice. He hadn't known what he wanted out of life, but it sure as hell hadn't been this. The dynamics were changing and there was an Elder who seemed to stir up controversy amongst ferals of the wild. His brows turned downwards, and he hunched his shoulders, head lowered. His muzzle bunched slightly with a hint of aggravation painting itself across his tone. His lips lifted as his canine teeth became exposed and visible. “If anythin’ dat’ ol’ spirit is gone an' One-Eye ain't givin a s**t."
“There’s nothing that’s keeping us from bringing the Outriders back to life,” Rust commented. There was a pleading tone in her voice, one that was convinced that something sure as hell could be done.
Cellen crossed his forepaws as his tail thumped behind him.
"If One-Eye is tainting the way the pack has always functioned then we need to bring about a hell of a revolution. Sometimes you need to put your trust and life on the line for what you want; stand for something, live for something or you’ll be a damn fool who will fall for anything.”
Within his life, Cellen has been strewn about a crash course on how to fight, how to survive the unimaginable, and how to stand up for yourself. His philosophy was engrossed within believing that the feral instincts were far superior to those conjured by domesticated Mokai along with the idealism that life was for living—and in order to live, one must value the many reasons which made life all the more beautiful.
"Dat's jus' a s**t ton o' rainbows and sparkles but I"ll be the one ta' say that I ain' goin' back out into the wild. I'm not gonna be slaughtered or sold to some human--it isn' worth riskin' the life I've yet ta' live in attempt to revive what once was." J-Dub crossed his paws and looked between Cellen and Rust. "Call me whut'eva you want but 'm stayin' 'ere. I'd rather pummel a foo's a** as a fighta' 'den end up as a trophy."
The wild was becoming unruly and unpredictable. If more humans were lurking farther into the unknown and encroaching upon Mokai territory then there was no telling what would befall the Feral Mokai next. Life was turning out to be quite the Russian Roulette spin---it was a topsy turvey ride which Cellen desperate sought to bring an end to. There needed to be actions taken against the humans who intruded upon Mokai lands; were they suppose to sit back and allow those two-legged fiends the right to plunder and steal their packmates, friends, family, even their mates?
No.
Rust shifted uncomfortably. Her ears fell against her skull. "Listen Cellen, as much as I would be gung-ho to join you out there I--I can't. I want to stay here. I don't think I can bear to be put through something like that again, let alone potentially die for something that may be an inevitable failure."
"It's your decision" he replied. It would be senseless to force either of them into something which they wanted no part of. To a degree, Cellen agreed with them yet out there, amongst the wild, there were places even humans nor their beasts of burden dared to cross. One had to be receptive of the world around them to understand what was speaking to them, what the land was telling them. Change indeed had come yet there was change both in favor of the Mokai which would help alleviate their disadvantage against the humans. A cheeky grin caught hold of his maw as he mused an interesting thought.
"Besides, I'd feel safer knowing that Keegan and Talonth were protected---humans aren't estranged from causing harm to their own kind and having some damn muscle in the house makes me feel at east."
J-Dub grinned, giving a broad flash of his pearly whites. "Damn straight! But y'know, brotha, we got yo' back. Yo' part of the pack 'ere so yo a** is welcomed to come through dat' gate anytime."
Rust nodded. "Hell yeah! If you don't have any luck making your own out there, even if you do, you'll have a place here too. We'll keep the spirit alive."
Cellen yawned, curling tighter into his makeshift bed as a low rumble emitted from out of his chest. He was pleased, relieved even, to have made unlikely acquaintances, friends even, who had his back. The more allies within the settlement the better. Both he and Reisx would need them in case any sticky situation would arise. Lying there, he exhaled deeply.
The three Mokai were no sooner whisked away as they succumbed to nights binding grasp; sleep had come upon them yet whatever awaited the next day would be conquered. Relentless and reckless, the three of them were going to be friends. Good friends. It was strange as to how life's unexpected twists and turns could throw oneself into the most unlikely situations and cross paths with those who were unimaginable. Was it a coincidence that all three of them had resided within the same pack at one time in another?
Perhaps.
But, in the grand scheme of things, maybe life had something greater in store for them and, between the three of them, they each would help build a foundation for something remarkable.
