Maugh stood on the rocky shore
and shook the rain off his ruff and pelt as he looked across the bay to the
village lights—so close and yet so far away. Clara was there, and he wondered
if she still kept a candle lit for his soul.
The crack of a branch and a whiff
of familiar musk warned him of Toque’s approach. Maugh didn’t turn around as he
drew his sword, holding it to point down to the rocks. He was unsure of his
reception in the pack, but any sign of weakness would ensure his death. Toque
stepped clear of the trees, sword sheathed. Maugh held his ground in silence.
Toque stood next to him, thick forearms folded against his chest, looking past
Maugh’s small boat to the dark waters of the bay.
“It’s been a long time, Maugh. Do
you expect a welcome?”
“It has been a long time. I
expect nothing. I offer my service to protect the village.”
“To protect Clara, you mean. You
can’t go down there”—
Maugh growled in irritation. “I
know. Nothing has changed since I left.”
Toque turned his snout slightly
to look in Maugh’s eyes. “Some things have changed. She is married now and big
with child.”
Maugh tried not to feel the pain
that sliced his heart. He told himself he was glad for her. “Who? Is he a good
man?”
Toque stretched out a paw and
clapped Maugh’s shoulder. “I suppose. He’s from the plains, not a villager.
He’ll never become one of us.”
Maugh looked back across the bay
to the village. “Good,” he whispered.
Toque tightened his grip briefly,
then lifted his paw and swiped Maugh across his back. “I’ve missed you,
brother. Come and offer your service to Drakon. I’ll stand by you.”
Maugh sheathed his sword and
reached out to grasp Toque’s forearm. “Thanks, brother. I’m ready.” He stepped
forward and pushed against his boat’s stern. It slid off the rock and bobbed in
the choppy waves. Maugh tightened his claws in the old wood.
“Return to your master with my
thanks for safe passage here.”
He turned back to Toque and
shouldered his pack. As they walked into the forest, Toque looked back at the
boat. He raised his eyebrows as it drew away from the shore and turned in the
water, then slid into the dark bay.
“Well, at least you’ll have some
good stories to share with the pack. I am ready to tear out Juntu’s throat if I
have to hear once more about his damnable trek up the fire mountain.”
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Dogs in house:
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Houdini, Brindle, Bacon
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Music:
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Daughter's piano lesson
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Time writing:
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25 minutes
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March word count:
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8268
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Prompt: Wolf warrior on the rocky coast
ReplyDeleteWaves crashed to Raynar's left, but the water flowed like smooth black ink around the rocks under his trotting paws. He slipped, raising a splash filled with multitudinous reflections of the crescent moon in water droplets. He froze, and the miniature moons fell, dissolving back into the dark.
The waves were far louder than his splash, yet caution was never wasted. He hissed breath softly over an extended tongue, taking the opportunity of stillness to let the night air pull excess heat from his body. He flexed his flanks, reassuring himself with the pull of the belt containing his knives. Not that they were much use in this form, but he would need them at his destination. His lost clothes would be easier to replace than his grandsire's blades.
Time writing: 17 minutes, sleeping lap baby