The weaker, or perhaps wiser, found other places to go if they could this time of year, but there was a certain peacefulness in this endless darkness on the long winter night. It felt like an endless dream, especially with the way the colors might play across the sky. The Northern Lights, he’d heard them called. The aurora. This darkness might be frightening or overwhelming to some, but the dawn after such a long winter night was only that much more precious. There was always a light in the darkness, though one might struggle endlessly to find it.
That was merely part of the world, suffering and starvation merely obstacles to overcome or perish beneath. And the dark red dhole had no intentions of perishing, not yet. Not for a long while. He was a fighter, born and bred to survive when even the tough got going. He’d been touched by the gods themselves, and would not vanish like an insignificant moth in the frost. No, Kirai was strong. Even alone he would have found his way, but he wasn’t alone. Not usually. When he was, as he was now, his traveling companion would come to the forefront of his mind…but Ivanova would be fine. She was a survivor herself, they both were. Perhaps the only survivors, for he’d not yet found any others of the old blood.
But new blood was acceptable. It could pulse through the veins as hot and fierce as the old. Perhaps there would be hope of rebirth for his pack. The gods would surely be in their favor this time, for he had by now proven himself worthy of their touch time and time again, overcoming all obstacles, surpassing the odds set against him. He had survived. He would survive still. Even in the frozen marshes of the tundra, under the endless winter night.
Icy blue eyes drifted upwards, to where the strange lights played across the glittering stars. Lights in the darkness, distant and untouchable. But there still.
