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."