And that was that. Vark looked around, at the meek, shocked and temporarily leaderless members of the Dahlia de Mai. He could barely see them, but he could smell it. Fear. Hopelessness. Contempt. The smell of smoke was still strong on the wind, and a wisp of it brushed gently past Varks nose. He felt old. The scars and the way he held his eyes showed that he had seen and done too much. Vark’s muzzle rose. He stood in the middle of the pack, though many over shadowed him. He was still stuck in his Secui form, bulky but not particularly tall. So that was it, thought Vark. He had just been part of a war. Funny, he thought. In tales of old, Wars involved hundreds of people. That lasted years. And yet, after a few short and brutal conflicts, it was over.
When he heard those stories, Vark had felt excitement. Exhilaration. Joy, even, when the ‘good guys’ killed the baddies, and won the day. Vark had used to play, pretending he was in a battle, killing the enemy with vicious and mighty swipes of his paws. He had decided, when he grew up, he would be a war hero. All the glory and fun. And.... he had got what he wanted. And he felt... dark. People had died. He, himself, had killed the small coyote accompanying the leader of the coyotes who had attacked Haku’s mate and her son. He had had blood sprayed over his face. He had felt flesh rend beneath his claws and fangs. He had gotten his revenge. Yet...... there had been no relief. No release of the painful emotion of the memory of his parents. And as for being a war hero. He had saved the ‘damsel in distress’, he and the others. But... no medals. No glory. Just blood. And pain. He had probably caused the family of that coyote as much grief as he was feeling now. In War, people die. And evidently, It was Haku who had started the war, for unknown benefits of his own. It tore Vark up. He had sworn fealty to his lord, the owner of the lands which he had sought sanctuary. Yet, when he had first met the demon, who could tell him for what he was. He had smelt of madness. And pain, and violence. Vark wanted to say he stuck to his word. But he had gone against his loyalty to his leader. He had defied, and helped his own son drive him from his home. Conor was now the leader of the pack. He was the Alpha Male. Vark rolled those words around in his mouth, as if trying for size. He decided. Conor was his friend. His best friend, even. So he would stick with him. He would keep to his word. Vark stalked through the crowd until he stood before his friend. His ears flattened back against his head, and he schooled his tail down between his legs, and gave a slight but graceful bow. Then turned to stand by his leader and friends side.
"I will follow and obey you to the best of my ability, Conor.” Vark said in a loud voice, so that everyone would hear. If he could, he would help his friend hold the pack together. He just hoped that people would follow Conor, and not turn on themselves.
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