Altar of Fire Ex-factor

For @Chan!
Potential triggers: heavy injuries, abuse, family dysfunction
he's in a rough spot

A lone figure made its way slowly over the crest of the rise, each step seeming more likely to be his last than the one before it.

Zeal was beaten, he had wagered and lost;  been measured and found wanting. His family, if you could really call them that, had exiled him... fallen upon him and driven him across the steppes while the laughter of his brothers and sisters echoed in his ears. The ones who had raised him up and grown up alongside him had simply averted their gazes, or joined in. If we see you again, next time, you're really done for! They haunted him like fever-dreams even now.

Except the over-achievers had done the job well enough this time to finish him, it seemed. That or his gods had abandoned him along with the pack.

The young man's formidable pewter frame was bloodied - a fresh, angry scar written across his muzzle in a cruel mockery of the rank scar he had hoped to earn. Fervor had been kind enough not to blind him, but the wound felt hot, and had not begun to heal very well in the days and nights since the incident. His ribcage hurt with each step and breath, the telltale sign of a broken rib or three, parting gifts from Pride. Zeal knew needed to rest, to eat and drink and rest for gods' sake, but his paws and body ached from running, then loping, then finally walking day and night instead, well past the point of exhaustion. His tongue slipped from his jaws, parched and thirsty, and his nose was cracked and dry.

Every now and then, a stabbing pain would overtake him, filling his head until his vision began to blur before subsiding back to a dull but throbbing headache - his thoughts felt as tired as his feet, as if they were being dragged through mud. His gaze was fixed to the distance ahead, staring at nothing. The sun seemed too bright, even the damned weeds on the hills all around him seemed too bright, as if they were on fire. Maybe they really were, but at least he had finally left the Steppes behind. Whatever this place was, it was nowhere he had ever heard of before, and that was good enough for him.

When his gaze fell by chance upon a large, flat-ish boulder in the the landscape, he changed direction slightly and dragged himself doggedly toward it and the meager patch of shade it offered to him by its flank. It seemed as good a place as any to rest, perhaps even for the last time.

Finally, Zeal allowed himself to collapse gratefully next to its reassuring solidity, his gaze swimming up to look toward a clear blue sky. Spring was here at last, it seemed, wherever here was. "Fortune, if you truly must cast me aside, then at least grant me one last request," he implored to the heavens, voice cracking and rough, the desolate prayer of the forsaken. "A second chance...." his voice trailed emptily into the air.

(This post was last modified: Jun 16, 2021, 04:27 PM by Zeal.)

Chan had needed a breather. Every day the pups grew they earned more and more of his admiration, but the constant socializing and repetitive work was slowly wearing him down. Looking to alleviate the pressure before he was completely burned out, he'd approached @Aleister about scouting South for a few days. Check for prey, and other wolves, activity that was still very much necessary. He'd informed @Nash, @Moonshadow and @Nori before heading out, trekking the Mountain's length through the Heights before descending down into the fields below. 

When morning broke, he settled in amongst the roots of a lone tree that stood only a few yards taller than the grasses themselves. Slumber was quick to find him, and he got quite a few solid hours in before being woken by a faint scent that was all but creeping past his nostrils.

Blood.

Chan lifted his head, but of course saw little through the swaying yellow stalks. With deep breaths he tried to analyze the air for more clues, what was bleeding, maybe even why. Was he in danger? Nothing around him changed, and seconds stretched into minutes. Chan stood, and began to follow the cloying scent. It took him across the field, to a large, smooth boulder. Chan jumped atop it, frantically scanning its crags for information via smell, and his wriggling muzzle led him directly to the opposite side, where a battered wolf lay in what little shade the landform provided. His looming form cut across the sun, providing a significant increase to the size of the cooling shadows.

What the hell?

"Are you okay?!" Chan asked with alarm, dropping down into the loam beside him to begin looking the man over, as though he were a practiced paramedic. There was no concern evident about his own safety now, only empathy for the stranger's condition.

"Can I help you?"

It wasn't a pleasantry; he was asking for permission to begin caring for him. If he didn't promptly, he feared for the wolf's chances.

(This post was last modified: Jun 17, 2021, 04:05 AM by Chan.)

Zeal had lay there long enough for sleep to steal him away. The wayward soul was lost in a fever-tinged dream, reliving his lowest moment yet again, and his return to wakefulness and the world of the living was sudden, groggy, and painful. He stirred to life fearfully and angrily, wondering where he was and not knowing.

Someone was looming over him, their imposing form impossible to discern against the glare of the sun behind them. Zeal's instincts dragged themselves to life, synapses firing with the first, most important thought... to defend himself. He had been so on alert constantly of late, and so haunted by it all, that the thought that this might be a potential friend and not foe simply did not even occur to him in this state. Nor did he comprehend the words as they fell on his ears, the stranger's concern and empathy not registering, unrecognized. As the other wolf leapt down toward him, Zeal struggled to his feet, a snarl forming on his muzzle. His ears pinned flat and eyes narrowed suspiciously toward the stranger in a menacing glare, incoherent thoughts and words struggling to find the way past his lips in a slurred growl. "Who're...you?" The strangers words registered in his mind on delay, and he attempted to understand the questions. Something about... "Help?"

Zeal stared at the wolf for another long (to him, at least) moment, lips moving silently as he put together the events of the past few days, and where had had fallen asleep, and the rest of what he had been asked, and some form of answer, all as if it were the most complex problem he had ever had to work out. But when he arrived at the answer it was all simple enough. He had asked the gods or fortune for a second chance, had he not?

The tension melted out of Zeal's frame - he could not have bore the weight of it much longer anyway. Letting his legs bend slack, he leaned his flank against the stone, not quite willing to let himself lay at a stranger's feet even in this state, but acquiescent to whatever form of care the stranger was offering. A growl would escape him should the other get too nosy, investigating too closely near the worst of the painful spots on his ribcage - he was not accustomed to lowering his guard, but he managed not to snap his jaws at the other man and was too tired to make any real fuss.

(This post was last modified: Jul 06, 2021, 01:06 AM by Zeal.)

Chan found the stranger's reaction understandable, given his condition. Coyotes, maybe... ? The notion chilled him, far more than the wounded wolf before him could. When the other relented, the Eastfall was not fearful in his approach, only cautious not to hurt or otherwise upset this impromptu patient.

"My name's Chan."

Maybe he really should just become a medic, his scattered thoughts offered. There were far too many times he'd found himself without, just like now; how the hell was he going to get this man all the way up the mountain to @Aquene or Landen? Chan certainly couldn't leave him here to fetch the latter, especially if whatever or whoever left him in this state was still pursuing him.

"That wound needs cleaned," he informed the stranger, but wasn't so bold as to drag his own tongue across the open cut without permission; lest he got it bitten off. He also clearly needed water and food, the latter might be relatively easy but how could he bring water to this wolf? His mind was scrambling, and his nose wriggled as he searched the air for traces of some kind of liquid source. Even if it was just a puddle...

He was pretty sure he scented something, but it was hard to tell with the nagging stench of blood and infection so close to him.

"It stormed last night, there's gotta be water nearby. Let's get you to it."

Maybe even just a few yards, if they were really lucky...

(This post was last modified: Jul 12, 2021, 02:48 AM by Chan.)

Chan. The name barely registered in his ears, but he latched onto it and stored it away, and promptly returned to more pressing matters.

Zeal blinked dully back at the man and drew in a painful deep breath, letting it out in a huff as he steeled himself for the task. Getting to his feet had been a lot for him, and walking would be worse still. But he had asked the gods for help, and it seemed someone or something had heard him. He'd be thankful, if he had any room for such thoughts. Instead he latched onto another word that fell from the stranger's jaws like salvation.

"Water. Yeah," his voice was a rough growl, made more so by thirst, and he was in no mood to argue. "Lead the way," he managed, looking the other man up and down. He wasn't sure if the more lightly built wolf could support his weight, but Zeal was in no shape to walk very far on his own four feet. He was in a sorry state, and anyone with sense would leave him to die, but it seemed fate had other plans for him, so he would have to bear up.

It did not occur to him to offer his own name in exchange. For one thing, he had earned it as a part of his yearling trials, and had lost it as surely as everything else now. For another, talking seemed like a waste of what little energy he had left in him.

(This post was last modified: Nov 15, 2021, 07:40 PM by Zeal.)

Chan was relieved that the man continued to speak, scared that he might already be too late and that the other wolf's body might give out on him at any moment. What did he know about what the stranger had gone through, after all? What internal injuries might currently be plaguing him, how long it had been since he'd last had his most basic needs met?

Continuing to move with care, he placed himself beside the other wolf, perfectly willing to help him bear his own weight, even if he had to do so all the way home. Maybe the Backwater? He would hate to ask them to take on an unknown character, but if it meant life or death...

First thing first. Water.

"I've got ya," he spoke softly, enough so that the other man could dismiss the words if he saw fit. Ego could kill a wolf; he didn't want to trigger any resistance, but that desire fought with his instinct to communicate solidarity.