Generation to generation

[Skoll]

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Skoll copied the black wolf's caution with the bow, treating it with a reverance he had not afforded it before. He didn't know what some of those terms meant, sealing, hardwood...but he was grateful for the analysis, anyway. He hadn't been too far south, most of his travels had transpired in the North and the west, but he was glad to know that the bow would survive the cold; there was plenty of cold in the places he had been. "Indeed, traditions make a culture, and culture can be very important. It can make or break a society, really." He'd met groups that were pacifistic to the point of being unable to take care of themselves, and others that were so lenient about murder that they let it happen to their own children and still did nothing to rectify the problem. The cult that he and his army had slain(to their best knowledge...they had managed a resounding success in the last leg of the war where guerilla fighting had been prevalent), had been the worst he'd ever seen, slaughtering adults and children alike in grotesque rituals that involved giving them 'wings' and burning their eyes out. Storm's tradition of neutrality had kept its members out of trouble, though; StoneTree's tradition of expelling its hardiest members(the youngest adults were often selected) had kept the group alive through many a winter, and traditions of seniority in packs all over the land (usually) meant that no one became alpha who the group did not trust. "So, you came back here for traditions' sake. I take it you lived here before?" It was no surprise they didn't know each other if that was true. Skoll's life as a guard on Storm's border had been upset a great deal in the last few years, between going off to war on madmen and their cultist army and being expelled for getting involved with Inferni, he had been here there and everywhere. He had never been a truly social wolf, duty always came before pleasure, and the border was always there for protecting, but he had met quite a few new faces in recent days. It was nice, after a fashion. His return to the life of a vagabond had its perks. ~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.

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