you don't know about me - Printable Version

It was a perfect morning: the sun was low in the sky still, giving off light the colour of butter that did not yet carry the heavy heat of summer with it. The humid forest was clothed in a thin veil of fog, the foliage was plump and damp with dew, and the whole forest smelled of fresh soil. The birds were just rising with the first snatches of light, but were still singing quietly, so as not to disturb their fellow forest-dwellers. In the background, the constant bubbling, churning sound of the river was, as ever, present and comforting. It was a picture of perfection, and probably should have stayed that way.

However, it didn't. The quiet stillness was broken by a thin, wavering howl thrown abruptly into the center of it, and the birds tittered ever-louder in both disapproval and excitement, or at least he figured that was why. Mace, ever exuberant and full of energy, burst through the ferns and shrubs just beyond the communal den, somewhat oblivious to the racket he was causing. His paws directed him straight down the slope toward the river, and he moved now with more sure-footedness than ever. Every morning he did this, it became easier and easier to make it down there without stumbling.

When he reached the river edge without losing his footing once for the first time ever, the boy whooped a laughing, victorious yell, and then turned to continue his morning jog along the powerful river, and was even more pleased to find that he was doing it faster than he had previously, as well. The effects of growing older were becoming apparent every single day, and Mace loved every second of it. This was what he was good at, it seemed, and he would make sure through these morning jogs and adventures that he was really good at it.

Life had been slow within Darkwater Rapids. @Angra, the boisterous loner who Maksim had a strong disliking for, had come and gone without a word. Ava had given him a chance despite his shaky start and he had wasted it, stepped all over them like dirt. The Baranski wouldn’t stand for it, wouldn’t let it happen again for if it did he would surely dish out punishment like no other. All Darkwater Rapids wanted from its members was loyalty. They should’ve seen that Angra had no concept of it from the start. Should the cocky shit dare show his face around their home again, the guardian and second of the pack would gladly send him running with more than a few teeth marks in his ass.

Regardless, it was a calm day. Clouds rolled lazily across the sky, trees swaying in the gentle breeze. Maksim himself was focused on getting a meal, licking at his dark lips. Striding down the riverbank, the green eyed guardian knew exactly where he was heading. The river slowed and became shallow in certain areas, became prime fishing grounds for any hungry pack member. Salmon were plentiful in this river, as well as catfish. They truly were blessed to have such a resourceful place as this to call their home. It was unlikely that they would ever truly go hungry.

The second’s train of thought stumbled though when a hollering laugh caused his tipped ears to twitch. Glancing over his shoulder, Maksim was met with the image of Mace, the boy he had saved from the storm, charging along the riverside. It warmed the man’s heart to see. The guardian had been privileged enough to see the boy grow stronger (and bigger) each day. The same applied to all of the youngsters. Calling out to the Attaya youngster, Maksim couldn’t help the slight amused tone in his rough voice. “Good morning to you, young prince.”

Beneath his capable paws, bits of loam and forest debris flew up, creating a swath of destruction behind the boy that would put a bulldozer to shame and would look shameful for any accomplished hunter or scout, but he was still an unaccomplished hunter, and so he didn't care or notice. It made him feel powerful, to think the very earth could heave in his wake and bend beneath the strength of his legs and his feet. He revelled in this, allowing the feeling of pure fortitude to surge through his body and awaken his senses. To him, this was the nature of life, this is what it was to be wolf.

As he tore along the edge of the forest, gaining speed all the while, in his throat rumbled a hearty growl to greet the twigs that whipped against his sides and the roar of the rushing water in his ears. Never before had the Attaya embraced his own strengths like this, nor let himself go like this; he wondered if this was what Rowan had felt like, chasing down the hare he had caught. He wondered if this is what his parents felt like when they exerted their dominance over their wolves, or when they found a loner on the border and made him feel insignificant beneath the weight of their rule.

Still, one could not run wild forever, and his headlong charge was slowed by the sight of agouti fur at the edge of the wide river that separated Darkwater Rapids territory from the rest of the Vale. He put the brakes on hard, first skidding on the ground a little and then breaking into a comfortable trot to approach the Baranski. He was greeted as prince, which sent a flutter of delight through his tummy, but regardless of this, Mace dropped his head politely upon approach; Maksim was the pack's second, and one of Mace's secret idols aside. His accomplishments and service to Ava and Kade commanded much more respect than Mace's title-by-birth ever could.

Good morning, sir, he greeted in kind with ears smoothing back over his skull, attempting for a moment to be mature and dignified before a huge, goofy grin overtook his face; he couldn't keep his success, however tiny and moot it was, a secret for long. I ran all the way down to the river and I didn't trip, not once! he exclaimed, practically beaming at the pack Guardian as though for some reason that should be impressive. His tail waved all the while, partial submission and partial excitement.

Mace skidded and for the briefest moment, Maksim was worried he was going to topple over and crash face first into the ground. The boy managed to compose himself, however, and approached the large male. His posture was submissive and the guardian gave a few, slow wags of his tail. Such submission from one of Darkwater Rapid’s heirs was unnecessary, though it was appreciated. Mace was a smart boy and his wits were already beginning to show. Truthfully, Maksim had high hopes for the lad, positive he’d mature in a strong man much like his father. A huge grin cracked along the Attaya’s face and Maksim listened to what he had to say with a bemused expression.

With a wagging tail, Mace effortlessly expressed his pride in himself. With all good reason, too! He was getting good on his feet, especially in such a territory. Being born and raised so close to a river meant that Mace’s paws were already adjusting to the environment, much faster than the second before him, a wolf born and raised on a mountain side. The Baranski often found himself losing his footing on a wet rock should he walk too close to the river side. On one occasion, it had ended with him stumbling, landing with a harsh ‘smack’ and a rather out of character yelp; a rather shameful show from such an impressive brute.

The enthusiasm that radiated off of Mace was almost contagious and Maksim couldn’t help but chuckle. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed the company of pups so much: they were so innocent and full of joy. “Oh, is that so? Well then, we certainly need to think of a way to celebrate such an accomplishment!” What would that be, though? Well, seeing as he was already on his way to perform a task … “How about I teach you to catch fish? Would that satisfy you? It’ll certainly impress your parents and siblings should you bring one home.” Hopefully, that would reel in the growing lad and gain himself some company simultaneously.