Panting, physically exerted and limp- Vaken collapsed beside Garmir. He sprawled himself out, laying on his side in a cat-like way. He rotated his ankles, stretching the muscles as they let out little pops. He was a young wolf, but he felt old now. His mentor knew how to work him. His stomach raised with each laboured breath he took, his tongue lolling against the cold ground. He tried to relax all the muscles in his body, sinking into the floor like a muddy puddle. He had never worked so hard in his life. His mentor’s words were background noise, white noise while the yearling tried to recover his strength. 


It took him a second to realize Garmir had asked a question. The boy was expected to respond. He fumbled for a moment, twitching his ears. Higher power? He lifted his head up curiously, then succumbed to weakness and placed it back on the floor. The boy couldn’t see Garmir’s expression, only his brown paws. "No." The words were straight-forward enough. It wasn’t a deep question for the boy, comically obvious. He did not believe in anything after death. It was never something he considered much at all, it felt foolish to. One day he would rot like everything else.

Garmir’s approval, even slight, was satisfying. The boy didn’t show it. His expression was blank while he watched Garmir’s laugh, but it meant something to him. He looked away, but the image stayed with him. It was only when the mentor mentioned a god that the yearling refocused. At first, he thought the man was joking. Gods weren’t real, and if they were you wouldn’t just meet them. He waited for Garmir to laugh, to say the punchline, but it didn’t arrive. Garmir was being serious. He had been younger than Vaken when it happened, still a pup. Silver Peak Mountain was a real place, they had worshipped a living god. The boy felt bile raise up in his throat.

There was no way. Vaken refused to believe it. His face contorted in disbelief, his eyes narrowing skeptically. “Sounds like they just had a real jackass leader,” he scoffed. It just made more sense. If a group of wolves started calling Vaken a god, he probably wouldn’t correct them either. That didn’t make him a god. The coldness of Garmir’s tone shushed him up though, his eyes softening in curiosity. Vaken was learning more about Garmir everyday. One thing he knew for sure: Garmir wasn’t a liar. That made his words even more frightening. He believed what he was saying, it was the truth. The discomfort in his stomach grew, tossing and turning. He wasn’t going to throw up, but he readjusted subtly, trying to steady his nerves out. A living god?

Stuff like that just didn’t happen, or it shouldn’t. It felt unnatural. The yearling couldn’t imagine following the rules of anyone, let alone otherworldly being. A pack following the word of a living god? He pressed his lips tightly in a line and shook his head. “Did you meet it?”

Wow. The yearling blinked slowly, letting the words float around in his brain. It was a hard concept to grasp. An entire pack worshipping the body of a former leader, speaking to him after death for generations. It didn’t make sense. Vaken was a clever wolf, but this? He couldn’t figure it out. It was a hard pill to swallow. A dead leader- a living god, that wasn’t living any longer. How was that even possible? That wolf must have really done some stuff in his day. It was unfathomable. What could he have done to deserve such honour? If it could be called that. There had to have been a lot involved. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, stumbling for the right words. “Ya think that pack’s still out there?”

It was a scary thing to wonder. It was borderline horrifying, the fur along his back standing up. He didn’t mean to ask for many questions during Garmir’s story, but he couldn’t help it. The words spilled out. He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer, the goosebumps along his body rising higher. He couldn’t stop from asking- he needed to know. He scooted closer subconsciously, seeking warmth and reassurance. It was a very pup-like gesture, but he didn’t notice it. He was thinking to much to realize his body was now pressed against Garmir’s.

Fight death and win? The idea was unsettling. It was impossible, you couldn’t challenge death, could you? Unconsciously his eyes narrowed in wistful consideration. If that was real, how would you do it? Could Vaken do it? Almost as soon as his mentor was speaking, the boy was mapping out a plan. He was an ambitious, greedy yearling and the temptation of being a living god was too good to pass up. Rather than focus on the fear, the unnatural disturbance of animal law, he was considering how it could be done again.

It was clearly not Garmir’s intent to put the thought into Vaken’s head so he attempted to conceal the desire brewing in his eyes. He wanted power. “Very interesting,” he added quietly, his nose gently touching the dirt on the ground briefly. It was cold and hard, causing him to flinch back and place it on his warm paws.

Garmir’s words stopped Vaken’s thoughts dead in their tracks. It was just a story, wasn’t it? As odd as it all seemed, the yearling had not experienced it firsthand. All he had was his mentor’s words. While it was unsettling, the idea of such a pack seemed too far away to be a threat. Sure, they were real. Sure, Garmir had met these people and watched their behaviour, but now? Who knew where they were. It seemed possible that their idiocy had killed them all, destroyed the pack. The fear that came along with the unfamiliar wasn’t strong to the boy. He kept his face on his front paws, eyes glancing up at the sky periodically. He let the quietness consume the pair of wolves, his breathing even softer than usual. “I hope I never meet any of them,” he grunted, breaking the silence with his harsh words.

“I don’t think we’d get along.” He rolled over onto his side, bonking his head on the ground.