SSWM Word Count: 2,682 → Private thread between myself and I. Basically, Skoll gets some books. :|

“This? Only an old storybook!” the trader cawed, thrusting the objects back at Wayne and crossing her arms. All around her, the family cried out their wares and goaded some of the passersby into checking out the stores of seed packets and spices and salts—but few could outshout Sydney Symone. “I’m lookin’ for something bettah than some kid’s story about some make-believe jungle. You can have the one packet of seeds for the othah stuff, but that’s all!” Her dark paws clamped down on them as if expecting the cowboy to make a grab.

Loosing his breath in a sigh, the Labrador mix merely tipped his hat to her. He hadn’t walked ten paces away with the vegetable oil when he heard Sydney shouting at someone else in her heavy Bostonian accent. “Come ovah here! That looks wicked heavy; let me take it off ya hands!”

Escaping from the tents, he clamped the pair of books under his arm and tossed the seeds into a pouch he’d taken from Casa di Cavalieri. Already he had traded what he could from the meager goods he was willing to part with and some of the goods that Casa could share as a whole. The outcome was pitiful: the seeds and some animal- and vegetable oil were all he’d gained, though at least the trades had been fair. The pack would not be disappointed in him, at least.

His only issue was the pair of books. He had hoped to gift them to one of his comrades, but the thought of getting something even better and more useful in return had drawn him to trade them at the festival. Unfortunately, none of the merchants he’d spoken to so far wanted them, and at this point he just wanted them taken off his hands. He was tired at staring at the torn covers and leafing through the yellowed pages as if he could gather some secret from them. He was an extremely slow reader, and the letters swimming across the page made his head hurt.

If only he knew his comrades better, he might have known who would like them. The thought gave him pause, a frown tugging across his lips, but before he could return to the warrior pack tent to throw the books at the nearest Cavalierite in exasperation, something heavy bumped into his legs and made him drop his things.

Several Court members had come to the festival to trade and socialize and feast, and with the most recent group came the two princes of the pack. After a lot of whining and begging, the boys had been permitted to go—but not without reminding the paler child of his run-in with the bobcat. They did not mention it outright, but the memory was pressed upon him every time they gave him a small and disapproving glance, ushering him onward without letting him dive off to explore or run ahead, while Hati padded without fuss nearby. They seemed to think that there would be mountain lions and grizzly bears and all sorts of big mean monsters at the festival from their attitude, and they seemed to think that Skoll would repeat his mistake. Well, the last part was probably not too far off the mark, but why did they have to keep an eye on him at all times? The outgoing puppy was itching to run around the tents and meet more cool new strangers and have the most fun he’d ever had in his short life, but…no.

“I hate this stupid tent!” the young Haskel barked rebelliously—though, despite his protests, he still sat obediently in the corner of the room. “Hati, isn’t this stupid? Hati!” He glanced over to see that his dark brother was watching the dancers in awe, the luperci floating across the room with their partners. There were few here, as the real event began only in the evenings, but the hosts were willing to accommodate a few friends from other packs. And it looked like the darker prince wanted to sprint out there and join them.

“We’ll get in trouble,” Skoll informed him darkly as he guessed his thoughts. “You ’member?” Haven hadn’t been too happy when the child had leaped out onto the dance floor and tripped up one of the couples, and so they’d been ordered to sit and watch quietly. Hati seemed fine with watching, but to Skoll, it was all very boring.

His slightly smaller brother threw him a glare. “You’re the troublemaker, ’Kol.”

Green eyes widened in disbelief at this insubordination then narrowed. With a growl too high pitched to be quite ferocious, he leaped on the dark child and nipped at his scruff, trying to roll him over onto his back. Hati squirmed, but in the end, a couple of sharp pokes and shoves flipped him so his belly was showing. The moment only lasted an instant before his pale forepaws shoved the golden puppy away. “Meanface!” he blurted, and with a swat of his grey tail ran over to Princess to be reassured.

Skoll watched his blue-eyed brother go, one ear twitched back uncertainly before they pinned to his head. He’d never really fought with Hati before, even though they would push each other around for dominance as all puppies did. But he didn’t think Hati had called him a meanface, and that stung the boy. As cocky and pushy as he could be, he liked to think he had a good heart—a good heart like the King. A King was not a bully.

Shame overcame him as well as the realization that he would be scolded for this latest transgression. With the gate of a coward rather than a prince, he quickly turned and dove under the flap of the tent out into the festival—and, rather than being charmed by the scenery that had been denied him since he came here, he simply ran blindly—then barreled into a set of legs. Something dropped on his head and caused him to yelp, and quickly he shook the object away, watching it land in the dust.

His emerald gaze darted upward to see a huge doggish luperci staring down at him, and with a slightly parted mouth he took a step back. There were big wolfdogs in his pack, too, but none of them looked as hard and gruff as this one.

“Sorry!” the child managed to squeak, and he whipped around to flee.

The creamy-blonde puppy did not get far; the dusty-colored man quickly reached out and grabbed the kid, drawing him in by the tail. Brown eyes cast around to make sure that no one would come in at the wrong moment and think this was a kidnapping attempt, but the one wolf that looked back at him seemed amused, so he proceeded to plant a foot on the boy’s thrashing tail to keep him from running anywhere.

“Where are you goin’ in such a hurry, pup?” the man asked, playacting sternness. He might as well have fun stalling for time—stalling for time until this boy’s parents came and got him. He didn’t look old enough to be here on his own—probably not old enough to shift yet. “Runnin’ away from someone?”

Bright green eyes stared up at him, the child craning his neck at an almost painful angle. He still looked shocked, but something indignant and dominant seemed to bubble up in him: his pale chest puffed out and his gingery ears rose to attention as he declared: “I am Prince Skoll Haskel of Cour des Miracles! And I not runnin’ from anybody! Now leggo!” He squirmed then whirled as if to bite the man before thinking twice about it. The so-called prince lowered his ears and, though he continued to glare daggers, made no further moves.

“Well, Mister Haskel—”

“Prince Haskel! I’m no mister, mister!”

The Labrador’s mouth quirked before he could catch himself. “Prince,” he echoed, about to tease the puppy, before realization struck him. “One of Vigilante’s young’uns?”

“That’s right!” Skoll yapped. “If my daddy were here, he’d whoop you!”

Wayne gave his head a shake. “I’d still like t’ know what in the blazes you’re running for,” he grumbled. “Suppose I need t’ take ya back to your tent. Royalty would be missed.”

The cub’s eyes widened, and he cast a pensive look out into space before shaking his head. “No, they don’t miss me. They umm—” He fumbled and furrowed his brow with concentration. “I gonna trade!” he barked suddenly. “I have—um—some stuff. Yeah! Some stuff, and I need to get other stuff. That’s how the festival works!”

The cowboy had to crack a grin. “Tradin’ for your pack, huh? I’m doin’ the same thing.” He bent to pick up the book that had dropped onto the child. “Would you want this storybook? I have two of ’em.” Chances were, the puppy wouldn’t even know how to read, and therefore he wouldn’t give a sniff about them. Growing up, he’d been that way, at least—if it wasn’t interesting in the moment, it wouldn’t be interesting. It was only when he’d first started seeing the young foals grow and the seeds begin to sprout that he’d understood the virtue of patience.

Storybooks. The blonde puppy stared at them, unaware that his tail had been released until he turned around to get a better look. He squinted and lifted a paw to the torn cover of the first one, the one that had fallen on him, and seeming surprised the cowboy opened it up to one of the pages: a gathering of wolves with a stripey-cat in the front… A tiger! Excitement bubbled in him as he remembered the fib he’d told Terra about fighting one instead of a bobcat, and a grin slowly split across his face.

“What’s the story ’bout?” Skoll asked, beaming up at the taken-aback adult.

“Uh—well, it’s called The Jungle Book. There are a lotta stories inside.” The man reached back with a hand to scratch his head, jarring the hat perched on it. He lifted the book then and flipped through the pages. “Like—Mo… Mow… Mowgli’s Brothers and…” His eyes squinted as he sounded out the word. “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.”

Skoll giggled. “Those are funny.” He poked his nose into the other book. “This’un?”

Wayne grinned slightly. “That’s A Horse and His Boy.” He seemed to be more enthusiastic about this one, and he didn’t have to pause to read the words—he must have already looked at it once before.

“I like horses!” the puppy declared, leaping up and spinning in a tight circle. “And I like a tiger and I like all the stories and I play pretend stories sometimes and I can make ’em read all the stories and tell them to Hati and Lottie!” His words stumbled over each other, rushing together faster and faster until the man laughed.

“Whoa there!” he chuckled, reaching out to plant a large hand on the puppy’s head to keep him from spinning. “Take a breath sometime, ya hear?”

Skoll nodded. “I hear that a lot!” He wagged his tail, flapping it against his back and the air in a wild arc. “Can I have ’em?” His tongue spilled from his grinning jaws at the thought—making his pack mates read and read until he knew more stories than Terra! If there was one thing he liked as much as running and sunlight and being strong, it was a good tale.

The dusty-furred man grinned down at the enthusiastic child, shaking his head in amusement. It looked like he had been proven wrong—and while he wasn’t one much for sitting down and listening to fictional tales, it was commendable that this puppy wanted to. He was ready to give the books to the boy then and there, but there was something else he needed to make sure of before he parted with the yellow-paged treasures.

“I can give ’em to you, but we’ve got to trade, remember?”

The boy’s smile faded like the sun going behind the clouds, and he scuffed a paw in the dirt. “Oh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, keeping his green eyes from the man’s brown ones. Obviously he’d been fibbing about his motivation for running unaccompanied through the stalls, but now it was even more out in the open: he had nothing to trade with.

“I’ll give ya these books,” Wayne McCoy said firmly, causing the boy to look up, “if ya promise to go straight back to your tent. Can’t have ya gettin’ roughed up out here. And maybe I’ll have ya owe me a favor next time we meet.” He might have doubted there would be a next time, but if the Court ever needed their services, he would probably run across the boy again. Mostly the statement was to make this exchange a little more solemn and legitimate, not that he would remember the favor himself.

“Promise!” Skoll declared. “A King always keeps a promise.”

The Labrador mix grinned and ruffled the pup’s head fur. “Good—now wait just a second.” He set the books and his pouch down, drawing out some rope that he’d saved just in case anyone wanted it. It wasn’t very long or thick, making it more or less useless for the lassos he would have wanted to use it for, but it was good enough to tie the books up. He handed the knot to the child, who grasped it in his teeth and wagged his tail gratefully.

“Run along then,” the cowboy said, grinning, and watched Skoll Haskel race off toward the Cour des Miracles tent with the books hanging from his jaws.

Skoll’s spirits were soaring high as the sun as he galloped back to the dancing tent, the rope-tied books swinging and knocking against his legs. But he ran straight and true, not tripping or getting distracted, and reached the tent just as he had promised the large man. Head held high, he jumped into the entrance—

And was immediately whirled on by the host couple. He dropped his goods and shrank down, looking as deferent as possible as they scolded him for running off. Having children of their own, they had very good parent-voices, and with promises of letting the King and Ayita know, they sent him back to the corner of the tent.

Hati looked smug when his brother first turned up at his side, but soon the dark grey pup frowned and nudged Skoll’s ears. “Sorry fer calling you a meanface,” he murmured.

The golden boy smiled slightly and licked his brother’s forehead. “Sorry for being a meanface,” he replied.

He was resigning himself to his fate of grounding, curled up on the floor of the tent and watching Haven make preparations for the evening, checking and lighting the candles, when Princess sank down beside the puppy and ran her slender hand through his coat. She smiled gently, letting him know that he wasn’t a bad boy or going to be in trouble forever, and he snuggled against the woman before she drew out the books.

“These are yours?” she asked, a brow quirked.

Skoll nodded. “Got ’em fair-and-square,” he added, honesty ringing through his voice. He didn’t want her to think he’d stolen them, though she might not believe the whole story about running into a cowboy anyway.

Princess only nodded, however, and opened up one of the stories, passing her fingertips briefly over the page. She smiled lightly again. “I haven’t seen this one before,” she said. “I read Felicity and Linden stories whenever they listen. Want me to read this one to you before the dancing starts?”

Skoll grinned, and Hati perked up, leaning against his sibling. As the candlelight flickered, bright enough to read by, the green-gowned woman kneeled on the floor and began to read the first story in the book.

“It was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day's rest…”