just go with the season
#7
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Word Count → 713 :: first two paragraphs are needless babble! Tongue

There was something easy about talking to the new white man, although August was was significantly younger than Shandom. It was strange, really, being in a pack like this again - while he loved it, and could not think of a place in 'Souls that better fit him, Shandom realized that, aside from the two mated women, he was the oldest in the pack. He had almost completed six turns of the seasons, and, with a bit of shock, realized that he would be approaching his time to relinquish his throne, had he stayed in Etienne. That concept was strange, and felt foreign in his mind - though Shandom thought of his home often, it was always in the context of him being the leader and continuing on the Qi'Vaex tradition. What would happen to his bloodline, with him gone? It was strange to think that Odin might have assumed the title of Alpha, though he was almost certain that was what happened. Odin shared the same life-blood as Shandom; both had identically illustrious pedigrees, but the younger Qi'Vaex had, for one thing, been slightly more golden than was traditionally accepted. While the New Dawn man was confident it wouldn't have prevented the pack from accepting Odin as their Alpha, it would be strange to see the color of the Qi'Vaex line shift to a darker hue.

Then again, if he were being realistic, the same thing would have happened if he had fulfilled his supposed destiny and mated with Lea. Fur as dark as hers could not be denied; it was highly unlikely any of their children would have been blessed with the traditionally strong Qi'Vaex white. It would have led to potentially interesting color combinations, and Shandom, having thought about it as much as he had, wouldn't have been surprised to see children shot through with silver or greys or were a motley assortment of blacks and whites. Regardless, it would not have been white, as was expected from the Qi'Vaex Alpha. Shandom could not help but hope that Orin had taken control of Etienne, and mated with a white female (though he could not recall any close to their age that would have been viable). Tradition was important to the scarred man; it was a leading reason as to why he chose to leave the Court and come to New Dawn. Thinking of the Court reminded Shandom he was actually talking to someone, and was now showing incredibly rude manners by not responding. A sheepish grin spread across black lips as the older male refocused.

I lived in the Court for a short time - from the beginning of the turn of leaves until the first snows fell. I was never comfortable there, though, and did not spend time with the rest of the clan. Terra is.... The male had trailed off, chuckling a little bit with a bit of sarcasm in his tones. Terra is quite the girl. She's a sweetheart, really - but, ah, a little too rambunctious for this old man. His smile was cheeky; Shandom did not really consider himself to be old, that title was reserved for wolves with muzzles shot through with gray. However, he could not help but wonder what his lifespan now was. He was changed in the middle of his life, and while he felt more youthful than he thought he would at this point in his life, he could not grasp the notion that the virus he both hated and loved was also some strange fountain of youth.

Shandom wasn't uncomfortbale with the discussion of scars, and returned to that for a moment. I understand scars, he said, with a shocking lack of bitterness and a proliferation of simple acceptance. But they make us who we are, and tell us who is truly our ally. The white man did not elaborate, but simply shook his large head before shifting his attention to the idea of food. But I am hungry, brother, both for food and the incredible thrill of the hunt. Shandom's feral smile was wide and predatory as his stance automatically and perceptibly shifted into something more dangerous, more deadly. Shall we find something large and wonderfully delicious, and then perhaps bring it to our other brothers and sisters?



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