The sun was warm against his back. The winter had been long and harrowing for him, and a lot of unsettling things had been revealed once the snow melted... Rue, the little paint filly he had briefly shown affection towards and spoiled as a pet, no longer listened to him. She was part of the herd, but for all intents and purposes, was just another wild mustang. Just another mistake he had made, he should have kept her isolated from the other mares if he wanted her to remain special... She would always be a runt, too small to ride, but he could not see the light in her eyes anymore.
His Ruri was happily living with her mate. Jacquez knew he could never accept that. It seemed to either puzzle or upset their packmates; if the king and his former ward were so close, why was it bad that she had found happiness and love? They had tried to reason with him, but reason and logic could only be applied to a sane mind. In the alcohol-soaked recesses of the monarch's mind, there was only possession and jealousy. If he did not own something, he wanted to own it. If he did own it, no one else could touch it. Ruri... had always been his. And a twisted part of him had thought by letting her try having a lover, she would realize how uncomfortable and wrong it was, and she'd come running back to him... but it was a mistake. Ruri loved Heath. Now he was the bad guy who tried to break them up, tried to banish the lying thief, the idiot who called himself king.
Firefly's scent was scarce; she was avoiding him, if she had not left entirely. She had always been a free spirit, and that was what he liked about her best. But... he needed her. He was beginning to have doubts... And if his confidence was shaken, there would be nothing left. If no one worshiped him anymore, he could not still be a king. The kingdom -- no, the pack -- was self-sufficient. Newcomers came and went without ever meeting their so-called ruler. They did not need him. In a sudden twinge of regret, he wondered what had happened to the children he sired; Rogue had never returned for Jontae, Finn had disappeared with their son, and Susquehanna had never introduced her pup. Firefly's litter was dead. If they had lived, what would have become of them? It never used to matter.
And Haku, the big bad wolf, Jacquez had sworn to kill him and eliminate the threat. For his dead litter, for Kaena, for Svara, for all of his territory. And he had failed. Haku not only held his ground, but injured the king... and had the fight been allowed to reach its conclusion, Jacquez might have met his demise. More doubts. He had never lost a fight as far back as he could recall, so what did it mean? Could he blame his life's troubles on the season, on the place, on anything other than himself? No answer. Only twisting, nauseating, doubt.
The tall dog twisted his muzzle in a silent snarl, fangs flashing in the afternoon sunlight. He was the same man he had been when he washed on this coast last summer, was he not? Same missing arm, same brilliant pelt, same jet-black eyes. But this world was so different from what he was used to. Slow, inexorable changes, nothing like the predictable chaos he had matured with. Did he even care about this place anymore? It was probably the longest he had stayed in one place before... and it was little wonder he was so bored all the time. The limp Haku gave him had faded now. He could travel if he wanted. Black eyes narrowed at the ocean, the salty spray on the wind teasing his flared nostrils. He didn't have a ship... but this way, no one would notice when he left. They expected him to make a big deal out of anything dramatic. No news must be good news when it came to the crazy king, right? Vigilante and Haven... and perhaps even Heath, those men could keep their packmates safe. Ruri... she had been with him for so long... but she had made her choice. She would be happier this way. She was the only soul on this earth that had come close to understanding him completely... But she grew up.
His charismatic ways could unite many under his banner, he had proven that much. But his own restless and impulsive nature would once again remove him from his position of power, set him off on his own again. Whether it was a foolhardy sailing journey that ended in his shipmates drowning, or a flight of fancy that made him hike across Nova Scotia with nothing but the sun on his back, Jacquez Trouillefou could never stay in one place for long...