((Total Word Count: 1912))
It had taken a great deal of time and energy to move the strange wolf from Antianeira lands, out beyond the borders where strangers could be allowed. Very near to an hour, perhaps more, went into dragging the wet lump of limpid fur toward a shady little copse that sprung up along the river somewhere between her own pack and that of YMCA. Their neighboring pack… and a place of general immunity. If there could be any thanking Varia, Isobel thought it would be for the intense training that had given the smaller wolf the ability to haul such an immense beast as far as she had, without breaking her own back in the process.
She didn’t bother to think about exactly what she was doing - she only took consideration to the work she was doing, and did it with a thoughtful mindlessness that was almost soothing, somewhat theraputic. How long had he managed with such thick fur, she wondered, marveling at his wooly double-coated side as she spread him out in the shade of a weeping willow. And such wide paws, as well… a somewhat short snout, and rounder ears, but in all he gave the impression of a plushness that seemed more suited to harsher climates than the ones associated with her own homeland. She thought the weather to be balmy, with the promise of a cold winter and plenty of snow.
And yet, he was literally steaming as the warmth of his body counteracted the cold water still clinging to his fur. He was coming to, slowly, and as he did so his great pink tongue promptly flopped out the corner of his mouth and he began a deep-chested pant, his ears flicking intermittently and his limbs giving reflexive twitches. He groaned, lifted his head, and for a moment their gazes met - and then he let his head fall back to the cool grass, eyes rolling away as he whimpered. “Are you alright?” Isobel asked softly, pushing at his cheek with her nose. “Are you injured, or unwell?”
He grunted, trying very much like a turtle to get back onto his belly with straining limbs and a great deal of pressure. Isobel trotted about to his side and gave him a good shove, until he rested nearly upright, marveling at how even off his paws they could nearly see eye to eye. “You are quite a large stranger, aren’t you?” she chuckled sweetly, taking a softer, more harmless posture that would have been frowned upon by her Sisters. “You don’t seem to belong here at all, I’d wager. How are you feeling?”
The big plum wolf gave an open-mouthed grimace, still taking in deep breaths and looking quite unsettled. She wasn’t sure what to call that emotion that twisted at his features - something almost threatening, but not quite there yet so long as his tongue remained spat out as it was. Discomfort, definitely, but also something that should have put her on guard, or at least have made her uneasy.
And yet, she didn’t feel these things. She saw he had a need, and wanted to do her best to see it fulfilled, so long as it meant helping out the needy. How he was still so warm baffled her, as with the fall of the afternoon the temperatures were beginning a steady decline, but with the air of one who innately understands, she gave a curt little nod. “I’ll be right back.”
She returned to the river and set her front paws into the chilly water, an involuntary shiver running up her legs as she settled herself into the shallows. She was no thick-furred ruffian, and her own silky pelt was remarkably poor at holding water for any length of time, but setting herself be soaked nearly to the bone seemed to keep a decent amount stored around her ruff and back, and upon her return she promptly began shaking it all off, so that thin droplets hung in the air and settled about the plum wolf’s body. He blinked, squinting a bit and pressing his ears to his skull, but soon visibly relaxed, his breaths evening out as he gave herself another good shake. She returned to the river and repeated the ritual once more, until she thought maybe he might have regained enough breath to speak.
He remained firmly tight-lipped, however, watching her warily and with a level of brooding distrust that quite nearly broke her heart. She was doing her best for his most obvious needs - and he wasn’t voicing any others.
She tried to take the friendlier attitude, despite how thickly he lay on his glowers. ”My, but you gave me a pretty good scare!” she sighed, sitting a respectable distance away and smiling. “You came out of the river, and I was convinced you were a monester of some sort! I mean, not that I still think you are or anything - but you were knee-deep in Antianeira lands, and so I wasn’t expecting to see a stranger. I’m sorry if I startled you into… well, falling out the way you did.”
He wrinkled his nose, but averted his gaze and lowered his head. A sign of embarassment? “Anyways, I’ve taken the liberty of removing you from pack lands so that the other Sisters would not take actions against you, as I can bet this was all just a little mistake due to heat exhaustion. Do you need something to drink? Or maybe a little more mist, to help cool you down a bit more?”
She was being horribly accommodating, and wondered just what her father would think if he could see her now; his brave warrior daughter, treating a male stranger as if he was an honored guest and she the subservient one seeing out his blandest requests. He would probably die on the spot.
And for that, she herself felt a wave of remorse. She faced down the glowering stranger and lifted her head a bit higher, letting her tail level out. The plum male took notice, curling his paws underneath him and giving a small shake of his head. “If you’re certain, then alright,” she shrugged, tilting her head back toward pack lands. “Antianeira is a warrior pack, so I should warn you; to the west of this river lies only danger for yourself. Our neighbors to the east are more lenient, and will gladly give you a place to rest your head should you really need it. They’ll fill your belly with good food and entertain you as a friend should you be the sort to allow it. You haven’t come this way looking to fight, have you?”
It was a valid question, given his girth and the whispers of unhappy packs in further reaches of Telk. But, at her words, the wolf’s golden eyes widened and the look of discontent fled his features, his head shaking again - a little more earnestly, this time. “Mmmph,” he grunted negatively, though still quite wordlessly.
She was beginning to think he was mute. “That’s good, then,” she replied, regardless. “Our females are amongst the strongest wolves in all of Telk, and we defend our own quite well. But, if it is not for conquest… then what are you doing here? What sort of errant wind blew you to this neck of the woods? It would be nice if you could tell me, if only to selfishly alleviate some of my own personal worries.”
Very carefully, she watched the way his breathing changed. His chest hitched and he drew his tongue back into his cavernous mouth, nervously shuffling his paws and turning his gaze to the grasses. ”I would understand if you could not speak,” Isobel said quickly - but, clearing his throat, he denied her words just as fast.
“I - I can speak well enough… thank you.”
Haltingly, and in a deep, baritone voice that nearly shook the earth like thunder, he continued. “I am here - with a reason. A purpose. Ha-ave you perhaps seen a… red-eyed… gray she-wolf, in this area? Maybe?”
Isobel raised her eyebrows, then felt the spread of her most charming grin take to her cheeks. Well, if he wasn’t just about the softest-spoken thunder she’d ever met! And he spoke the way small, shy wolves did, looking away as a proper slave should when addressing one of the Sisters. She began to wonder if male subjugation was a more widespread event than she was originally led to percieve. “Oh, so you’re questing!” she mused, her tail thumping enthusiastically behind her. “For a friend, perhaps, or a lover?”
A bolt of lightning wouldn’t have shook him any stiffer than that offhanded suggestion, and he very desperately denied it with yet another shake of the head. ”N-not at all!” he cried. ”No, no, not a lover…”
Isobel tilted her head. “Then whom? A family member? Someone who means a great deal to you?”
He sighed heavily, then in a somewhat louder voice replied, “A stranger. I made a promise to a stranger to find her… red-eyed wolf.”
“Aaah, alright. You didn’t know this wolf at all? Do you know the name of whom you seek?” Isobel pressed, her interest peaked.
“No…”
“You don’t know her name at all. And I suppose you don’t know the name of the wolf you gave this promise to?” It sounded a bit odd, and a little dubious, but it was an interesting thought.
“Through miscommunication - I made her believe the red-eyed wolf had perished. But she might not have, so I am looking for her.”
Isobel nodded sagely, noting the way he steadily strung longer and longer sentences together. But, a red-eyed wolf? She chewed on her lip, and tried to string together all the wolves she had ever known. She wasn’t a warrior, or else Isobel would have known her intimately; Antianeira rarely entertained visitors, and those who had been allowed to breach the borders were usually from YMCA. She had heard rumour of a gray wolf milling around these past few days, some sort of storyteller who wanted to know more about the Sisters’ way of life. But she hadn’t seen this wolf, and could not in good conscience say she knew the colour of her fur.
But it was worth a shot. In the very least she suspected the storyteller had met many faces throughout her travels, and could help point the big wolf in the right direction.
“How long do you plan on staying in the area?” she asked quickly, climbing to her feet and trying to figure where such a stranger would be at this time - or who would know how to find her. “I might know a way to help you, but it might take a while. You’ll need to be patient.”
He nodded solemnly, looking about and settling where he was; he wouldn’t move, it seemed from that exact spot. That was unnecessary, but Isobel figured she could let this strange wolf do what he pleased. “Alright, then! I will be back within a few days - maybe less, if I can manage it. Good day, then!”
She turned to move away, still wondering who she should see if she couldn’t find the storyteller on her own - and was quietly stopped by a gentle cough. “Ah - madam -” the plum wolf managed, lowering his ears meekly.
“Yes?”
“Well - thanks, I suppose…”
Isobel smiled.
