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

He watched the grin break over Saul’s face, taking a minute amount of pleasure in the expression and encouraging it with a wag of his tail. In the same motion, he dismissed the thanks offered for the sharing of information. It was simply courtesy, he knew, and the young leader was nothing if not polite. Briefly, he compared the behaviour to that of the alpha female whose rule he no longer had to tolerate. She had been a silvertongued woman, but at its core, her nature had been foul and tempestuous. Saul, on the other hand, seemed to be of a calmer disposition, and in some ways, Vicare had to admit that the grey wolf reminded him of a younger, less arrogant version of himself.

“Thank you,”

he replied in response to Saul’s acceptance of him, and the subtle curl of his lips deepened into a genuine smile. He listened to the words that were spoken next, paying special mind to the name Jordheim. It was a foreign term, though its meaning he could divine from its context, and he wondered how long it would be before he was uttering these words with as much confidence and familiarity as the green-eyed leader. Tail still swinging with the lazy rhythm of a mindless metronome, he nodded and indicated for Saul to lead.

“Suppose I’ll get used to all of it—this cold, I mean,”

the tawny male murmured in jest. The grin he flashed was at once rueful and mischievous, and it made him look younger than he was. He had a feeling that the cold was something he was going to complain about often.

Yayyyy!

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