into the light

[Vicare de Lioncourt]

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so we reach into the raging chaos, and we pluck some small glittering thing, and we cling to it, and tell ourselves it has meaning

vicare de lioncourt — lupus form — vinátta border

It was just past mid-day, and heat of the late-spring day was just past its peak. Nevertheless, Vicare shivered. His was a coat made for the constant summers of the southland, and though the surrounding signs of life told him that it was well into spring, the temperatures of the northeastern coast still held a small amount of disagreeableness with his nature.



It was not to say that the golden tawny wolf had not spent a good portion of the past year on a northbound journey, and he was not foolish enough to imagine that the climate of the new territory would be as wonderful as that of his childhood home, but in his defence, the winter had waned as he and his travelling pack moved through Appalachia, and the time he had spent lingering around the remnants of the Niagara region had felt more like a particularly mild winter than a particularly frigid spring. On top of all that, there was still a part of his body that simply hoped for the blazing heat of a New Mexican summer.



Presently, the luperci paused midstride. In his lupus form, he was virtually indistinguishable from the non-luperci he’d met along the way, except perhaps for the three distinct scars over his left eye. It was easier this way, he had decided. Travel on all fours was still more efficient than travel on two legs.



However, now as he approached an invisible wall of unfamiliar scents, he wondered if that was still wise. The goal from the beginning, after all, had been to seek out the land that played host to the colonies of werewolves, and now that he had finally arrived at the end of what felt like an eternal and meandering journey, was it not fitting to reveal himself as one of them?



The answer, probably, was yes, but he chose to ignore this. Somehow, even after the half year he’d spent with the small pack of werewolves, his lupus form still felt the most familiar to him. It was his native operating system, his birthright. And in this moment when he was about to surrender himself as vulnerable to a foreign land that he hoped to call home, it was still a bit of luxury he could afford.



Vicare tipped back his head and howled.

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