09-25-2009, 10:48 AM
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 The chill air hung crisp over the stones of myriad graves, and the sounds of songbirds rang out clearly like so many bells over the once desolate place. Green growth had long ago overtaken the serenity of the stones, and concealed their macabre adamant with new life. Jantus, a fighter of too many wars to count, as well as what he sometimes called the real war, turned his gaze up above the stones, and saw a shaft of sunlight peaking out over a grassy ridge in the distance. He breathed deeply, and the place smelled good to him; it felt as if the morning had welcomed him and his company to this place, and he was glad for the good omen. Not that he was particularly superstitious...but one way or the other, it made him feel better, and that was omen enough for his needs! The giant tried to step lightly through the underbrush, having already nicked his foot on one of the old stones, and jammed a toe against another. Treading softly was not usually his wont, and it didn't come easy for someone of his size. Either way, these accidents were cushioned by the layer of lush green surrounding every obelisk and flatstone, and so he was not terribly bothered yet. The gentle yellow light of dawn filtered down over the landscape and he was glad to be alive, and for a time glad to be away from home. He hadn't been particularly fond of wandering during his brief travels with Mala and Ranya, but now that he was at it again, it did bring back memories. His sisters were with him this time, too, and so they were bonding again, as brother and sisters with their ranks forgotten. Jantus didn't make a fuss about his alphaship back home, but it was difficult to be a family member sometimes when one was directing the affairs of three dozen wolves surrounded (albeit at a safe-distance these days) by hostile packs. Right now, the big wolf had his bearskin cloak on his shoulders, and his steel club stuck through a loop in his belt, which was--aside from the cloak--the only piece of human clothing he had ever taken to wearing, and that only for its utility. He was scouting the way ahead of his company, a group consistent of several family members and family friends. They were on their way to visit a friend, a friend who had little to do but wait, it occurred to Jantus, but one he didn't want to keep waiting overlong in any case. The emotions from the event had died down somewhat: he had been quite shaken up when he'd first heard the news, and his sisters as well. It was not a thing that any of them believed could happen. They all knew it could happen, of course, but it wasn't anything any of them ever believed in their hearts would. Now that they had made their way almost to where the old territory lie, Jantus had decided to go traveling alone until such time as he could find where exactly it was they were going. He didn't want his company to get into any trouble while it was here, so it would be better not to wander around and step on too many toes, but to quietly find their destination, get any permission any required to go there, make their visit and leave. As for his own personal safety, he doubted he was in serious danger. He had heard stories of the hybrid coyote pack, Inferni, but felt he had little to fear from them. By Skoll's accounting of the situation, they were a real hazard around the territories, but that was mostly due to the disorganization of the wolf population, and they bore little threat to someone like himself, provided he didn't try to fight all of them at once. Between his size, his experience, and his willingness to get into a scrap, he was confident that he could take care of himself. Then again, he could be overconfident at times. After all, in their friendly tournament, he had thought he had even odds of beating Skoll because of his size. He had been wrong. The multi-hued werewolf looked down at one of the headstones and studied it for a long moment. He had been stepping over the little things heedlessly, but now that he considered them, they reminded him of the somber import of this journey, and he felt a pang of regret coming on. He should have sent more wolves with Samson; he should have gone himself. He should had confidence that fewer wolves in Snow-Capped Pine could hold down the fort and spared more to search for Asmodai and Soro, as well as sent advance messengers to Skoll. But none of that had happened. His lone eye squinted painfully for a moment, before he shook his head and lumbered on. He'd find directions soon, and they would get this done. Then, hopefully, they would spend a little bit of time here, getting to know the scenery, learning more about the place that Skoll had lived in his final months. Not the place Jantus had heard so much about, unfortunately; they place had burned to the ground; but the people were the same. Maybe he'd be so lucky as to find someone else who knew his old friend. |