Again, Mapplethorpe had been spending his time well away from the pack den, isolating himself somewhere between the heartland and the outermost edges of the Keep. His daughters, now on the cusp of their yearling days, now had no place at the forefront of his mind. They were old enough to fend for, think for, feed, and look after themselves. They didn't need their "Appa" anymore, just as they had a year ago, which thankfully left him with very little to worry about besides taking care of his mate and still deciding on the list of names he would present to her for their sons or daughters. Asphodel, the name of the plant that particularly reminded him of home, would fit well - or so he believed. Even if Nova and Aponi's names didn't particularly fit the "floral template" Naira had started with her first set of cubs, Mapplethorpe felt it was about time for the naming convention to make a comeback, if only for tradition's sake.

Asphodel.... Asphodel and... Hmmm. Well, at this point "Hermione" just wouldn't do anymore; he would have to find another sort of plant that matched Asphodel. His brows came together in thought and he touched his nose to the crook of his wrist when the scent of another youth came to his senses, and along with it the name of whom it belonged to: Karpos. Karpos... The Leader's head came up and immediately he searched through the trees, peering between the dark trunks and wherever else the sunlight weakly managed to filter through. He rolled his eyes, but no matter how comfortable he had gotten, he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to get back up. If it hurt just trying to sit up at first, oh how it stung and smarted and ached! His lips came up as he winced, revealing his clenched teeth as he sat up at last.

Now to stand... Oh... Damn.

If he managed to get himself to this particular spot, surely he could get out and away from it. If logic served him right. Summoning what energy he had, he finally stood up and limped forward, ears and head up, and body as straight as he could manage. Then, a smile, the best one he could muster up. "You're early," he called through the trees. "Wasn't expecting you to come this way until sometime later."

The boy had risen early to think. But think about what? Mapplethorpe couldn't possibly think of anything Karpos could have been so preoccupied with - perhaps aside from worrying about his performance as an upcoming Guardian - but he quickly brushed the musings away as he was pitched the same question. It was impertinent, really, but the Leader, for once, appreciated it, considering the question as one of genuine concern. "Thinking, myself," he answered. He eased himself back down into a sitting position, the pain shooting up from his lower back up to his shoulder and neck. Oh, might as well lay back down....

With a soft thud of his elbow into the earth to keep himself propped up and his skull level, he sprawled out on his side, still facing the young Slayer. He dared to let a smile grace his usually solemn facial features and he gestured with a nod that Karpos was welcome to come closer for a chat if he had the time to spare or the need for it. Mapplethorpe was certain he was willing to lend an ear or two and grant the boy more words of encouragement should he have a certain craving for it like he had before. He sighed and let his head lilt idly to one side as he fully came to relax again. The hollowness in his belly, he had yet to fully realize, was less noticeable when he was at rest. What he had yet to realize was just how thin he had become - nearly likened to a skeletal creature who had had a pelt draped over their too-thin musculature - and how severe the slight shaking that had started in his shoulders really was.

Again, he tried to give the apprentice Guardian an uncharacteristically kind smile, the tips of his ears quivering as his eyes focused on the boy whom he had once doubted and had now held in high esteem.

Mapplethorpe watched as Karpos made himself comfortable, lowering his backside first before stretching out to lay on his stomach with his swarthy limbs splayed out before him. It was nice, he had to admit, having company, even if only for a little while. "Just..." he began before pausing to really debate whether or not he wanted to disclose such private or personal information. He felt he owed it to Karpos though; the boy was nearing his yearling months and he was no longer the rather pitiful or ridiculously naive cub he had first met at the foot of the mountain. "Just the future," he continued after a few seconds' silence. "What's to come in the next few months."

Again, a grin tugged at the lines beneath his eyes. In truth he thought about the warmer Summer days, the day he would first set his eyes on children of his very own (something he once believed he had been robbed of earlier in his life), the crispness of the autumn air, and the stories he would tell Asphodel and their siblings. He even imagined the day when he would be flanked by two fearsome Guardians, cloaked in black. He might have thought of Gent as a third protector, but he had yet to connect with the other yearling; instead, he had placed all his confidence and aspirations in the yearling he was closest to - the one that was sharing this very moment with him.

"You seem to be doing well," he off-handedly commented, his tail sweeping across the earth once before returning to its previous position. "Obviously, I've thought of how the pack will fare in the Spring with the new cubs to look after, but I will admit to also looking forward to the day you are promoted as a Guardian of the Keep."

Karpos had always been seen as the modest sort, and even as he accepted Mapplethorpe's compliment, the sentiment remained. The Leader's gaze went to the boy in all his humbleness and modesty and for a while, he admired the boy's youth and strength. His grin grew wider. "You know," he mused thoughtfully. "You remind me of a legend that was often told to my sisters and me when were were about your age. If you'd like to hear it." He let his eyes roam Karpos' dark face, prompted to recall how he had always imagined the creature and being that had given him the inspiration to become something more.

"They called him... Spring-Heeled Jack. My pack and family had once thought of this man as one of their Guards but none of them would take credit for the killings of intruding foxes or lynxes in the area. They said there was someone else on their borders with a coat was a black as midnight. Some said the man was coyote-like, others claimed he was fully lupine sort of wildling; my father warned that he had possibly seen him and that he was very bear-like in stature with broad shoulders and a hefty frame. But, my grandmother said that there hadn't been any bears in the Greying Glades for several decades." He moved his right elbow to a more comfortable position, pausing briefly for some sort of dramatic flair.

"Now, I don't mean to give you fear or worry," he gently added, "But let me tell you that the Spring-Heeled Jack never step foot on pack territory or spoke with anyone of our members. When my youngest sisters finally had the chance to lay eyes on him when they tested trespassing my parents' margins, they didn't even scream when he looked at them before leaping away." His brow quirked as he recalled what he had imagined the day Lautrec and Monet told him of the rogue who leapt up and through the trees without even a second thought. "I've never seen him, but the stories that followed after were both terrifying and awe-inspiring. In one instance he was spotted fishing in the streams by dashing through the water, pouncing on any disturbance on the surface within a blink of an eye. In another he triumphed over the pack of coyotes who constantly kept harassing the pack by chasing them off and ambushing them from the treetops, delivering a bite to their necks in one quick move and laughing in triumph with their blood upon his lips. Outposts were eventually set up beyond pack lines and, soon after, the sightings of the burly creature with thick fur and a high-pitched laughter decreased.

Even much later after that, we found that we were suddenly at peace. No more bears, no more rogue wolves or pestering coyotes. The salmon population in the river thrived and the deer herds became plentiful again, and in turn the wolves of Vigilate Keep thrived. No one ever saw "Jack" again, but it was said that on very still nights, his chortling could still come to unwary ears on a sudden gust of wind. It reminded us of who had kept us safe and inspired us to be stronger and quicker. Fearless. For several months my mother attempted to draw Jack back towards the Keep, leaving gifts of hares and deer legs at the place where my sisters had seen him, only to find it gone the following night."

Mapplethorpe quieted to smile at the young Slayer, "It was later assumed that Jack was nothing more than a figment of the elders' stories, fabricated to fashion my sisters and I into wolves who heeded and respected the ways of the unknown... to have care about other things and beings beyond ourselves. I used to think maybe they only told us that it was imaginary to give us sound minds and distract us from the fear that really laid in wait over the borders. I heard the cackling when I left, drawn to it by curiosity, jealousy, and a hope that perhaps... I could be like him."