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

As they walked, Saul told him of having lived in the area for his entire life, referring to the area as Nova Scotia. The name was one he knew, having heard it from the mouths of the luperci he’d travelled with, but in the past couple of months, it had ceased to be important. Now that he was actually here, the name gained form and became more than a disembodied ensemble of sound. It gained a definition, and Vicare committed it to memory.

“Where I come from, it’s rare to see snow even in winter,”

he replied with a smirk, wondering how odd that must have sounded to someone who’d known nothing different than the chill of the northland.



The news that Vinátta was only a new pack did not bother him in the least. In fact, he preferred it this way, for it was much easier to gain a foothold in a fledgling pack than in an already established one. In a sense, it was fitting, as well. He had departed one life to build a new one, and the potential of the nascent Vinátta struck a resounding chord within him.



Soon, they were arriving at what appeared to be their destination. Vicare slowed his pace in accordance with Saul’s and let his eyes roam with open curiosity at the sights around them. He had passed through settlements similar to this before, though most of them had been empty cities full of crumpling buildings—elephant graveyards.



At the mention of a “present,” he shot the other male a quizzical look and an amused grin.

“You shouldn’t have—we’ve only just met,”

came his quasi-teasing response, but when Saul returned with the deerskin pack that fell open to reveal its contents, he couldn’t help but be appreciative.

“Thank you.”

The notion of living inside a house was a novelty, as well, as he’d grown used to sleeping under the open sky. Still, as his eyes moved curiously over the fascinating structures that populated Jordheim, he nodded in acceptance. All of this, like the cold northern climate, would take some getting used to, but he supposed the only constancy in life was its ability to change and his ability to change with it.



When life ceased to change, it was time to die.

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