Dragonveil Fold rise and rise again

Kjors was--  Kjors was ignoring him.

As far as the younger dragon could tell, his brother wasn’t fleeing so much as he was running towards something.  He couldn’t catch what the wolf was muttering, running as quickly as they were.  Some small corner of Kjell’s mind twinged, squirming uneasily as he powered after the other male.  This could be a trap, it kept trying to insist.  He could be leading you into your own demise.

Nah, though.

Kjors wasn’t that kind of wolf.  He was like Kjell.  He was like Søren.  They were greedy, all of them, proud wolves from a line of dragons; if he was going to take this kill, he was going to do it all on his own.  It was something else.  Something Kjors considered more important – but then, that wasn’t much of a surprise, was it?  There was something always more important than Kjell when they were boys.  Just the same as their father treated him.  He bared his teeth and sprinted forward as Kjors stumbled, spotting his opportunity as it appeared.  They hurtled the fallen tree almost in tangent, and three strides later, he was upon his brother. 

Throwing his shoulder to the right, he slammed into the older male’s blindside, sending him hurtling down the side of the hill.  Kjell stumbled after, careless in his hurry, and slamming his weight on top of Kjors.

“Be a good little fucker,” he snapped, “and lemme show you what it’s like, huh?  Don’t you fuckin’ ignore me when I’m talkin’ to ya!”

He should have been paying attention to the wolf behind him – after leaving Kjell for dead once already, it would be foolish to assume his younger brother would simply realize it was an emergency and let him be.  Oh no.  When had the selfish animal ever done anything for anyone other than himself?  Even has pups, it was a constant ‘look at me, look at me!’ – and here he was, doing the same.

Kjors hit the ground with a startled ‘oof’, unawares of the dragon’s sudden surge of speed until it was too late, and the other wolf had thrown his weight into him.  Legs went over belly and back under again as he spiraled down the side of the hill, sending rocks, blood droplets, and snow flying through the air before his wild flailing was enough to stop gravity’s pull downwards.  His head spun as he tried to gather himself, and then Kjell was upon him again, swearing and cursing like a troubled teen in his ear.

He snapped his teeth.

“Grow up,” he hissed, sides heaving as he tried to fill his lungs with air. 

This wasn’t about Kjell.  Frankly, he didn’t give a shit about Kjell.  Somewhere, somewhere around here, there was a mountain lion, and it was terrorizing his baby girl.  For all he knew, it might have her already, and he had only moments to change her fate.

With a mighty roar, Kjors heaved himself up, shoving his weight back into his brother and throwing the wolf into the snow.  He reared on hinds legs and pushed down for good measure, and then he was off, again.  “Bennet!?” he roared into the mountainside, answered only by the echoes of high whines and angry hisses.  Oh, hell.

“Bennet!  Ah’m comin’!”  He could hear the spray of snow behind him, and ignored it.  Kjell would have to wait.

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

Grow up?

“Like you can – oof!”

Kjors gave a mighty shove and the second dragon fell away into the deep, powdery snow, giving way under his frame like a feathered pillow.  Almost immediately, he began to struggle, only for his brother to bounce on his shoulders and push the larger of the pair further in.  A muffled scream erupted from the snow, but by the time he wiggled his way back out of his temporary prison, Kjors was several lengths away and screaming for some Bennet.

Who the fuck was Bennet?

Again, Kjell gave chase, though this time, his brother was too far ahead to catch; until the other wolf came to a screeching halt, that was.  He almost slammed into his brother’s rump – the idea wasn’t terrible, but that was not exactly a tactful assault.  Instead, he went skittering to one side and swung around, only to find what the older dragon was actually looking at.  “A cougar?”

Was he serious?  Why the fuck was he—

But the man never even finished his question, for amber eyes found the cub not moments later.  Bennet, he surmised, and realized this was who’d been crying and distracting Kjors.  But Kjors?  Having a cub?  It seemed impossible to believe – though he wasn’t going to for much longer, but the looks of things.  Kjell skittered back and furrowed his brow; did he really want to let a cougar do his work for him?

 

Thankfully, he seemed to have some teeny, tiny little modicum of luck left, and Kjell did not catch up with him again – not until he arrived at the scene of Bennet’s cries, at least.  No disaster, not yet.  No crime, not yet.  Trespassing, perhaps, but at this point, Kjors would be happy to take his cub and leave; whatever his brother did with the mountain lion was his own damn business.  “Bennet--” he croaked, trying to crane his neck to look at the girl, praying no serious harm had befallen her whilst they were separated.

Unfortunately, the cub was not the only one who could hear him, and a pair of beady, golden eyes fell upon the elder dragon prince a moment later.  The cat gave a blood curdling yowl as it shifted, evidently feeling two grown wolves to be much more of a threat than the pup it’d been chasing a few moments before.

Beside him, Kjors could see his younger brother skitter sideways.

“Y’were always a coward,” he hissed under his breath, dropping his shoulders as he flagged his tail.  If he needed to bait the cougar so Bennet could find a safer place to hide, so be it.  He’d done it before; he could do it again.  “Watch an’ learn how a real dragon does it, boy.”

He might have had more to say, but the cat was clearly done waiting.  Its tail lashed through the air like a bullwhip before leaping across the snow in three easy strides, upon the adult wolf in a blink.  Kjors barely had time to shift sideways before it pounced again, the male snapping his teeth angrily at its face.  How dare it try to take Bennet from him.

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

The matter of whether or not cougars ate wolves grew less and less clear-cut the longer they ran, for she could think of no good reason why it would want her dead so very badly. She hadn't threatened or insulted it or caused it to lose its meal, she'd just been the innocent bystander, completely there by chance, and look what it had earned her; a danger she would not be able to outrun. It had already nearly caught her once, and she'd been saved by nothing more than luck. A swipe at her hindlegs had caught its claws in the flesh if her hocks and she'd screamed in terror, but then her paws had been fortunate enough to find solid ground under the snow where the cougar's had fallen through and slipped. She'd gotten out of its clutches, racing wildly to where she prayed her father would be, because it only took moments for the cat to regain its balance and pursue her once more.

This went beyond dislike, maybe even beyond hunger. This was what hatred looked like.

Hope came to her as a gruff bellow on the wind, the sound of her name in his voice sweeter than anything else She could dream up. Bennet wanted to shout back, to cry out her delirious relief, but her mind was consumed by the need to flee and she could spare not one muscle for anything else. He knew she was coming. He knew she needed him. He knew how to protect her.

The two dark wolves came into view and where she might have stopped to consider the strangeness of it, to question it - question why there was blood on her father's face and his ear was missing and that the stranger looked so familiar - there was no time for any of that either. She felt the presence behind her shift, change, as though she could sense that its attention was moving away from her, but she didn't stop running until she was able to loop around and tuck behind the dark legs of the stranger who looked and smelled like her father - and that was enough in that moment, because even as she turned to look, the cougar was rushing at the wolf she adored so much, and her heart was pounding and her ears were full of it and her breathing was ragged and her body ached all over -

But she was okay now, her dragon was going to protect her.

Coward?

Kjell scoffed.  There was a difference between being brave and being a damn idiot, and it looked like his brother had crossed the line.  Maybe it was his senectitude catching up with him – not that the younger dragon had much room to judge, being only one year his junior, but he certainly did not act as mature as the heir of Ered Luin.  If he wanted to be pelted by a mountain lion, so be it. 

He might have said something, had not a dark brown, almost black blur suddenly stuffed itself under his legs.  At eight months, Bennet wasn’t exactly small anymore, though she seemed to be built like her father, and his father before him, where Kjell himself had taken more after his damn.  The tickle of fur against his belly caused him to glanced down at the cowering child and--  Aw, hell.

What was he going to do, abandon her?  Hope that Kjors fought off the cat on his own and they went off on their merry way, call it even?

And what would he tell Pip, exactly?  Oh yeah, finally found that jerkwad brother of mine – left him and his kid to fight a mountain lion.  Not really sure what happened to them, though.  The sea wolf wasn’t going to be impressed by his lassitude; she liked puppies, didn’t she?  Not like he had anything against them, but-- 

This was his father’s line, ultimately, wasn’t it?  He had no intentions of rebuilding Ered Luin, but some small, tiny little fragment still wished to make Søren proud, even if he’d joined the halls of their fathers’ years and years ago.  His ears flipped back and he rearranged himself, trying to huddle over the pup as sunset eyes fell back upon the unfolding scene; Kjors was barely keeping himself away from the damn cat.

Did he intervene or just—

Wait?

Kjors had never taken a mountain cat before, and he was quickly coming to realize it was not even remotely similar to taking on another wolf (or two).  The man had plenty of combat experience before now, gathered from his father, harnessed as a young wolf on his own, and beaten into him since his time in Relic Lore.  He’d taken plenty of prey animals, small and large – some of them even fought back.  Running a hunt on a moose or a caribou always held a risk, but it was nothing like this.  Nothing like facing an angry animal – arguably larger than himself – with teeth and claws and unbelievable speed.

It dawned on him then that he now knew exactly how those prey animals felt.

Ears flipped backwards, fresh blood still dripping down the blind side of his face.  Again, Kjors was forced to jump sideways, to leap over the snow, to move, to move, to move.  The cougar was swinging left, and right, and left again, so quickly that all he had time to do was dodge away before the next blow was coming.  It could handle the snow like a bulky wolf could not, forcing the man on the defensive when he otherwise wouldn’t have chosen to be.

Suddenly, his claws caught stone beneath the snowpack, and Kjors lunged with a roar, gaping jaws catching the mountain lion in the face.  It yowled its shock, but she was not a helpless kitten – blood streaming down the animal’s face, it grabbled with both paws, raking razors down Kjors’ sides; but he would not let go.

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

Shivers ran down his spine, forcing the dark wolf to shake out his coat as he tried to ward them off.

Was it the cougar’s bloodcurdling scream, or was it Kjors’ silence as he was practically flayed alive?  The scent of blood was almost nauseating, and for a moment, the younger Sørenson was struck by the urge to steer the child away.  Her father or not, no youngster needed to see this much violence.  But if they left him, surely, the mountain lion would get the upper hand.  And then what?  He just…leaves Bennet in the snow?

Yeah, sorry ‘bout Kjors.  The mountain lion’s probably tired enough t’ leave you alone.  Good luck, kid.  Try not to fuck it up!

He snorted softly.  Yeah.  That’d end well.

“Look, kid…Bennet--”  That’s what his brother had been calling her, yeah?  “This ain’t gonna be pretty.  I gotta--  I gotta--”  He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.  Or was that his pride trying to make a comeback?  “You gotta go hide behind those bushes, you got it?  An’ if this starts goin’ south, you fuck off fast as you can and don’t look back, got it?”

Nosing the pup towards the shelter of rocks and scrub brush, Kjell bounded forward through the deep snow.  If there was anything to be thankful for, it was that Kjors was currently holding the cat by its skull, and thus, holding it’s full attention.  The wolf made not a noise as he threw himself into the air as he’d scene coyotes do before, bringing his full weight down on top of the cat’s hind limbs.  It went down like a sack of bricks, screaming bloody murder as Kjors was forgotten, the creature trying to whirl to face its second, sudden enemy.

 

It swung.

Kjell did not see that coming.

He did not see much after that, either.

Claws raked across the right side of his face, catching fur and flesh, and--  And his eye.  The pain seared through him like the wildest of fires and he screamed, stumbling backwards as his vision was cut in half.  Blood spattered wildly as he shook his head, trying desperately to clear his vision, but no matter how he blinked, it only hurt.

“Kjors!”

In all his life, Kjell was the last wolf he would have expected to come to his rescue.

Well, now there was probably a list, after the bridges burned at Hearthwood River, but still – a mere hour ago, he had no idea the younger Sørenson was still alive, having thought he put an end to the boy’s life ages ago.  Now, now, the larger dragon had flung himself upon to the cougar, unbeknownst to himself and the cat both, it seemed.  His relief was obvious, shoulders sagging a bit as the claws released and the feline tore away (not entirely undifferent from Kjors losing his ear before arriving here.

It took a moment or two for the elder dragon heir to right himself, to shake his head and set his bearings.  He could, perhaps, take Bennet and run, but he would only slow the girl down.  If he told her to go and find her mother, would she, or would she try and fight?  It was not a risk the man was willing to take, and so he set upon his haunches and took the cat from behind as his brother had, moments before.  (Perhaps he had a good idea, every once in a blue moon.)

The cat took this as kindly as it had before, screeching as long fangs sunk into its hind limb.  It was crippled, essentially, but adrenaline coursed through its blood hot as molten iron and it rounded about, surging forward and swiping at Kjors’ chest.  It caught something, and the man gasped, staggering backwards on shaky limbs.  He sucked in another sharp breath as pain blossomed, and he tried to growl, the noise bubbly as he shifted his weight.

He would not fall to a mere cat.  Dragons were better than that.

The injured cat lowered itself, preparing to spring--

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—

Shoulda minded yer own damn business!

This is what he got, trying to ‘do the right thing’, keep this kid from getting eaten.  Why the fuck did he care?  Wasn’t his.  Was his father’s line, sure, but what the hell did Søren ever do for him?  Other than, you know, the whole sperm donation, but he clearly liked Kjors better and—

Taught him how to hunt and—

How to be his own wolf and—

About the Mother—

“Fuck all,” he huffed, shivering slightly as he turned, the motion exaggerated as he gauged the lion with his left eye only.  His head was swimming – or maybe the world around him was swimming?  The shadows seemed to dance and laugh it him.  Was he dying?  Was this it?  Who would tell Pip?

Ducking his head and hunching his shoulders, the wolf barreled forward with all the strength left in him.  It was not quick enough to keep the cat from retaliating against Kjors, but as it coiled to spring, the younger dragon slammed his crown into the animal’s ribcage.  The meaty thump of flesh on flesh echoed in the small area and the cat screeched, the sound growing fainter and fainter still as it tumbled--  Tumbled off the side of the small ledge, away from them.  Away.

“Thank fuck,” Kjell muttered to himself, puddling in a heap.  He shifted slightly to try and focus on his brother, noting the dark blob on the ground.  Kjors must have done the same.  “I’d say we’re even,” he grumbled.  “Lemme go, yeah?”