Word Count → 1,121. Erm, I apologize for the length. orz; Wolfgang is in Optime form and along the Inferni-Dampwoods border.

Wolfgang would awake to soft ginger curls touching the tips of his black nose within his dazed state. His blue eyes would blink twice before they narrowed with a content grin upon his dark lips. His girl lay beside him, sleeping away deeply. His pink tongue would roll out from his lips to lick the top of them until he leaned forward, a hand brushing through her ginger hair and he kissed her cheek to which she hesitantly opened her eyes like a Princess being awakened by her Prince. Hushed, he whispered a ‘good morning’, to which she smiled and mumbled one sleepily back before rolling on her side, leaning her back onto the man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his nose between her ginger curls, breathing in her scent before he closed his eyes once more.

Those were the morning until recently. His eyes were drawn to slits as he turned his head to look up to the morning sky, the colors just changing from darkness into soft hues of blue and gold. Wolfgang was posed forward, his back upon a pine with his left knee perched up while the other leg laid flat against the ground. His left elbow leaned on his knee, his lips clenched shut, wrinkles under his eyes due to lack of sleep. He looked as if at any moment the man would fall over with the weakest gust of wind. Dangling from his left hand were blood worn bandages over his knuckle, then curling over the rest of this hand until it reached his wrist. The ends were loose and swayed gently in the wind. He leaned his head back, staring before him instead of the sky before he closed his eyes. He was not dreaming, nor was he calling for sleep to come to him. Merely, the hybrid was thinking. Thinking of what could possibly be with him in the future.

He drew back his lips, sneering slightly before he regained his composure. The Vorrakess were a stoic Kingdom, no expression was allowed to cross their lips. It was a forbidden, especially with a wolf in such a position as he. No, he was not the Crowned Prince. In truth, he wasn’t even very much a Prince. His father, Vorrakess Manuel, was the Duke. Wolfgang was his only child with his Second Wife, Karin. His Grandfather was Vorrakess Ekkehard, High King of Vorrakess. He led besides his Step-Grandmother. Yet, the peaceful times of Wolfgang’s birth were left behind quickly as the neighboring rogue Kingdom of Zheynche started war. The first attack had been an ambush. They had somehow tracked within the higher mountains of the Vorrakess territory before descending down into their city. The attack had cost them many men. And in return, the royal family mostly went into hiding. The old King, Ekkehard, however, charged off to war, leading his troops into battle without fail. While his grandfather was aged, none of Vorrakess could doubt his skill with the sword. It was skill that none of Vorrakess had seen before. His father, Manuel, took off to battle as well as the children – Princes and Princess – were captured like cattle to hide in a secret area.

It was then, within the cold cambers that he had to ultimately forget about his love, for she was not just a normal gal that could crawl into his arms. No, she was the wife of his uncle, Wolfram. He was the Crowned Prince, making her the future Queen of Vorrakess. Their affair was never surfaced to the world, but no matter how much he loved her, he could never completely have her. With his ears drawn back he spoke to his closet friend, a man named Klemens, who was also his beloved personal guard. With permission granted from the High King, he took off by horse, fleeing away from the Vorrakess Kingdom with the enemy hot on his trail. It was the perfect plan. He would sacrifice himself for the country and person he loved, and become a hero only by name. Yet, somehow amidst the plan, he lived and arrived in this place.

He drew in a deep breath, panting still from the running on foot when his steed had been shot down by arrow. A dark brown cloak over his body, a wound not bandaged on his shoulder and a deep cut on his right leg, just above the hock. All night, he ran. Only now did he sit to take in the full account of his wounds. His ears flicked back, his lips opening to help him breath. He pressed his hand on his cut. And after a few more minutes of resting, he hoisted himself up, his hands on the back of the tall pine until he could stand. The blood dripping down from his left shoulder and right leg onto the ground, he limped forward, walking in a slow pace. His right hand clenched his left shoulder. The area of the clock was soaked a darker color. His breath visible in the cold air and every five feet or so, he would turn and zigzag just in case the enemy was still on his trail. It didn’t matter much, as the blood drops were already a clean enough trail for them to follow. But he had seemingly lost them hours ago… near three am. Or perhaps they had given up.

Before him, pathways and trails curled around with the thick scent of a pack. Wolfgang was cautious, watching the area for any possible hostile movement. His vision, however began blur, white spots faded in and out. Narrowing his eyes, he moved his bloodied hand, wiping it on the ragged cloak before he backed to a tree. There was hope that the pack he had seemingly ended up on the border of was not hostile; that they were not allies somehow of the Zheynche clan… but then again, it would be a peaceful and quick end to the Prince. His body sank to sit along the roots of the tree, blood still freshly dripping as he eyed the skulls lining the border a dozen feet away. His breathing still heavy, heaving as if he could not swallow down a breath to keep his body pleased. His heart beat fast against his ribcage, but he didn’t dare call for those within the pack. No, for if the enemy was still searching, they would recognize his voice and they would crowd the border of the pack he was now at. Of course, there were only three… but it would cause unnecessarily trouble for them. And they could easily decide to feed Wolfgang to them without worry, or even join in for the kill.

Word Count → 513. No worries and thank you!

Each time he exhaled, it became visible in the air before him. The temperatures were slowly, but surely dipping and yet, the hybrid was used to this weather. The Vorrakess Kingdom had been in the mountains and constant snow floated down from the sky. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. Wolfgang, however, thought of himself as cold at this moment. His body shivered a few times and he curled the bloodied cloak closer over him. His hood hid away much of his face and large sized ears. A minute had past and still, his breathing did not calm. ‘Is this what it was like to feel as if you were dying?’ He wondered, drawing his untouched hand over his heart to feel the very organ beat under skin, muscle and bone.

Playing in his head were memories. Memories of much sweeter times, perhaps sweet enough that one by just hearing would gain a tooth ache. His ears flicked back, though due to the thickness and shelter of his cloak, it was unnoticeable to anyone who just may be watching. Otherwise, it seemed like the tawny man was on his last few breathes. Perhaps this blurry sight he saw in front of him would be his last. It was in a strange land next to a stranger’s castle. And just maybe, he would become one of those skulls lining the border so many feet away. At least someone would know of that he had come here, even if they would not know his name.

His wishful thinking – if you could call it that – was interrupted by a masculine voice. His blue eyes squinted and his head turned slightly to spy through the undergrowth at the pale owner. In hand, he noticed the long spear. Though, the stranger probably wouldn’t need to use it on Wolfgang. He could barely move let alone threat another’s life within the current state he was. He gave a nod of his head, and that motion was most obvious even within his cloak as his long, thin muzzle stood out. “Hello,” he murmured without much emotion, but kept polite. His lips parted, about to speak but the man cut him off with questions. He blinked, taking each in and thinking of how exactly he should answer.

“I am Wolfgang of Vorrakess, a Kingdom quite far from the lands you must call home. Inferni, was it?” He paused, breathing in sharply and gasping near the end of his words. “I am bleeding because the Vorrakess Kingdom is at war with those by the name of Zheynche –” Gasp. “I offered myself as bait and ended up here. I apologize for my state.” Pause. “I do not believe so. Hours ago, they had lost my trail and I have not seen, smelt nor heard of them since.” He shifted every-so-slightly in a small attempt at standing but kept his seat after thinking more about it. If he moved, it could be seen as a threat and his eyes would begin to blur even more so. It was smarter to stay as he was.

Word Count → 408.

The man approached him, sticking the spear into the ground and then, knelt before him. Wolfgang, though surprised, did not express this emotion. His mind wondered what he might be doing so close, or if he would be calmed or hostile. The glaring look of before, however, seemed to be replaced by another emotion as Wolf noted. It was rare to find someone who expressed these emotions, so studied them, staring with keen ears as he introduced himself as Aemon de le Poer. Of course, the name was utterly unfamiliar to the injured man. “It is nice to meet you, Aemon de le Poer,” he breathed in sharply and for once, could not contain the hiss of pain that followed after. Pausing, he made a noise as if clearing his throat. “If I could gain your assistance, it would be much appreciated.” He murmured, his voice beginning to become hoarse.

After his reply and a heavy sigh from Aemon, the coywolf sent out a call, for what he assumed was for the rest of Inferni to hear. At the sound, he was tempted to twitch his ear, but instead, he merely stared as if trying to remember the sound of his possible savior’s voice. His lips were now contently closed and instead, he breathed rapid breathes through his dark nose. He didn’t wish to look any less like a nobleman in front of the pale man than he already has, or for that matter, the leader of inferni that just may come to investigate their member’s call. His hand dropped from his bloodied shoulder just as the man began to speak and question whether he could make use of his legs at all. His eyes first drew downwards at his legs stretched out and then, to the side from underneath his black fringe. Nearby was broken tree branch, or that is what it looked like through his blurred eyes.

“Perhaps with some support,” he replied, motioning his head towards the broken branch in hope that it may have been a smart idea. Wolfgang did not think of the other man leaning his shoulder or helping the man up in the least bit. No, for it was something uncalled for within the home he had grown up in. His eyes then, trailed back to the area the coywolf had previously gestured at, and squinted them in hope of seeing something more. But all he saw were trees and trails.

Word Count → 315. Apologies for the delay! :< Thanksgiving was busier than first expected. And, um, Happy Holidays!

The pale Aemon picked up the branch to which the Vorrakess man thankfully took with a firm nod of his head. His eyes watched curiously and cautiously as the man before him began to remove a piece of long, thin fabric from his bag and then, began wrapping it around his shoulder. Most would flinch due to the pain when it was tightened, and Wolf was most definitely tempted to do as such, but he tried to keep a straight face. His blue eyes narrowed, staring at the now wrapped wound as the blood began to stain the fabric in hues of bright red. He turned his head to the side, his lips on the side that would typically remain unseen to Aemon twitched before he shifted back, bracing his hands on each side.

“Let’s get you to the Mansion,” spoke the pale man as he stood and curled his hand gently around Wolfgang’s left arm. Of course, the hybrid blinked in confusion. He hesitated for a moment, sitting where he was as practical dead weight before he awkwardly pushed off the ground – as he was left handed – with thanks of the branch now in his right hand. The first few steps were wobbled, his legs still shaking from exhaustion and the cut along his right did not help it. “Thank you,” he murmured though his voice lacked the typical emotion spoken with the phrase as they crossed the border into Inferni territory.

His vision began to blur once more, white spots and those of different neon color fluttered in and out of view. His jaw tensed and his forehead furrowed while his blue eyes remained in their narrowed state. Even with the looming building of the Mansion so close, he could barely focus. His feet began to fumble underneath him and he clamped his teeth together. “Rest…” The cloaked tawny male managed to say.