19 years ago, Planet Feylund, 7th age…
Khosumet stood on a small hill beneath a large tree with cherry leaves. He overlooked a grave that was imbedded next to the tree. Upon the grave was a single white rose that shined brightly in the moonlit sky. Khosumet continued to look at the grave, reminiscing on what he had lost. His one love, his only love, Aleera, had been taken from him on that fateful night, and he had felt powerless to prevent it. Memories of the past year came to him as he remembered what he had done to exact revenge. Yet, despite all that he had done, pain remained in his heart.
For the past year he had ordered the other pack leaders to scour the land and to search for the killers of the Alpha. Khosumet used everything at his disposal and did everything to bring the killers to justice. With his packs he ordered the destruction of nearby villages and the deaths of hundreds of innocents, searching for the assassins. His actions, however, caught the attention of both the elves and the vampires, and they demanded retribution for the deaths of their people. The skirmishes that they had once had in the past were soon made obsolete in the face of the war that quickly arose. Each race turned against the other in the bloodbath that would come to be known as the Scouring. As the battles raged on the packs grew smaller and some were decimated in the ensuing conflict. By the end of the year, the number of packs, once in the hundreds, had been brought to less than thirty. Stricken with heart-ache over their losses, many packs were forced to merge together in order to survive. They all fought back when the vampire hordes came or when the elves assaulted them, but their numbers soon began to dwindle. Soon, there were only twenty large packs that remained, half of which had only less than a thousand wolves in each; many spread throughout the great forests of Feylund.
Khosumet remained where he was, standing over the grave of his beloved. He heard a familiar presence move behind him, the grass crunching softly under the figure’s footsteps. Without turning, he spoke in a low voice.
“Is it the elder?
”
The figure stopped and lowered his body to the ground in an apparent bow.
“Yes. He wishes to see you before he passes from this world.”
Khosumet closed his eyes, knowing that the time had come. He turned to see his scout, a young wolf. He had a light dark fur with spotted patches of brown. Khosumet turned to the grave one last time, watching the small white rose. A light breeze gently stirred it, making the flower sway in the wind, the petals moving from side to side in a dancing motion.
“Take me to him, Jun.”
***
Ten minutes later, wolf encampment…
Khosumet walked on a dirt road that lead into his camp. The camp was settled deep within the great forest. Khosumet knew that it was pointless to hold the forest but also knew that their enemies had them surrounded on all sides. To the west lay the elven lands, holding large swaths of territory. In the the far east, a large land belonged to the undead and the vampire leaders. His packs were spread in between the two and much of the land was contested, with no side being able to claim significant ground. This stalemate had given the wolves a bit of a reprieve from the fighting, but they remained largely separated from one another. Khosumet knew that this separation was keeping the wolves alive, but he also knew that they would need to be brought together to somehow survive this conflict.
As Khosumet walked behind his scout into their encampment, he saw many wolves treating their wounds. Many resided in small tents, mostly stolen from the elves, tending to themselves and awaited for further instruction. However, most of the tents also held the women and children of the wolf packs. The recent fighting forced some of the packs to stay together and protect their mates and young children. Khosumet walked past each tent along the way and took note that some of the wolves belonged to Marrok’s pack. His pack remained small but many of the females had given birth to litters and needed protection. Being his close friend, Khosumet allowed Marrok’s pack to be mixed into his. Nevertheless, this had caused some tension amongst the other packs. Varg, seeing this as a power grab, had taken it upon himself to rally the other packs to his side. In doing so, he had caused a rift within the wolf packs. On one side were are the ardent supporters who viewed Varg’s ideas to be noble, and they still had a lingering hatred for Khosumet. The number of packs that supported him were seven. On the other side were the packs that were willing to support Khosumet in his undertakings. Seeing his loss of the Alpha was too much to bear and they made the heartfelt decision to remain by his side; the number of packs that supported him was eight. The remaining packs that remained followed Fillin. He was a staunch and close ally to the Alpha but since her death he had not claimed to support either side. He had remained out of the affairs and had gained support from the few packs that remained. This split had caused much contention between the packs, leaving Khosumet uncertain what to do.
As these thoughts rattled in his mind he looked forward to see Jun still walking ahead.
“Tell me Jun,” Khosumet began, trying to stir a conversation, “how is your father doing. Is he doing alright?”
Jun continued to walk forward but he turned his head to meet Khosumet’s gaze. “Yes, he is doing fine. He and several others are hunting game, they should return soon.”
Khosumet nodded in approval and noticed that Jun appeared happy that he was acknowledged. He knew engaging with his warriors was key in securing trust and loyalty. Khosumet continued to ask how Jun’s family was up until they reached their destination. It was a large tent that was placed inside a large tree, which acted as a cover from the weather. Khosumet noticed his former rival, now friend, Marrock, standing near the entrance of the tent. Khosmet walked up to him and placed a paw on Marrok’s shoulder which he gladly returned in kind.
“How fare you Khosmet?” Marrok said as Khosumet lowered his arm.
“Well considering the fact that I have to care for over ten thousand lives, deal with two unruly and disruptive pack leaders and handle a war that was unpremeditated. Lets just say I’m doing fine.”
Marrok chuckled at the remark. “Well at least you’re handling yourself well.”
Khosmuet smirked at his friend’s statement. “How is your mate by the way?”
“She is healthy and she’s raising our pups well. However, I don’t think it is the proper time to speak such pleasantries.” Khosumet’s smile dampened. He knew what his friend meant. The two proceeded inside the tent. The tent was spacious at could hold up to at least a dozen wolves. Khosumet heard a little whimper to his left and he turned to see several wolf mothers caring for their young. Among them he could see his daughter Rain being held by Tyra, Marrok’s mate, being nursed along with another wolf. It was over year since Khosumet’s wife had passed away and there was no one to care for his child. However,Tyra had come forward and offered to take her in. Since that time she had cared for Rain as one of her own. Marrok turned to his wife and went to her side, placing a paw over his son’s small head. The two then moved their heads closer and rubbed each other affectionately. Khosumet turned away from them, less he disturbed them in their time together. He then proceeded through the second tent entrance and stood before the elder.
The whole room was bathed in twilight, with candles that suffused the room in a low glowing light; the blankets in the room added to the color. On the floor of the room, settled on a small bed, the elder lay. His chest moved up and down at a slow pace. When the elder looked up he tried to speak but only managed a slow groan. Soon after he began coughing violently. Khosumet went to his side and procured a small bowl that was filled with water. Adjusting the elder’s head he gently pressed the bowl to the elder’s lips. The elder began drinking the water in quick succession, almost lapping the water in quick gulps. He was drinking as if it were his last; in fact it could be. As he quenched his thirst, Marrok entered the tent and stood on the side of the elder. Once the water was gone, Khosumet placed the now-emptied bowl off to the side and began helping the elder to sit up. As he moved the elder’s body, and adjusted him so that he would be more comfortable, he noticed the frailty of the elder. He was very thin and weak, his bones clearly visible. His eyes were pure white, almost to the point of blindness. A year ago he had still been agile and very much alive. Now, his ailing body couldn’t even stand properly and he had been bedridden for many moons. Another wave of coughing afflicted the elder as Khosumet finished propping him up, causing his body to thrash, although only with feeble attempt. As he tried to breathe it looked as if he was gasping for each breath, wheezing out air that was leaving an empty shell. Khosumuet looked at Marrok; they both knew the elder was not going to last much longer.
“Choose your questions carefully my friend. He doesn’t have much time left,” Marrok stated, holding onto the elder’s hand in a attempt to hold him still. Khosumet had so much to ask. He had so many things to say, things that would mean the life or death of his people. The war between the elves and the undead. The split between the packs. He wanted to ask them all, but he withheld those questions for the moment, for within his heart his only concern was for Rain. As he thought of her it gave him strength. After thinking carefully of what to say, knowing he had two or three questions at best, he then spoke to the elder.
“Elder, I fear for the future of our people. Our people are split and some are not convinced to join our cause. War rages around us and I do not know how to move forward in this trying time. Please elder, I ask of you, what must I do to stave off the destruction of my people?”
The elder’s breath continued to wheeze as he turned to face Khosumet. He gave a weak smile, still coughing slightly from the last attack.
“Oh Khosumet,” the elder said, his breath fading and making Khosumet lean in closer to hear, “you have been so blessed by the moon goddess. I have seen so much good for our people. I see a land that is unblemished and filled with life. *gasp* The land itself will sustain our people and your enemies would dare not follow. *gasp* Go to this land, where the winds blow upon oceans of fields, to hushed forests, and the rivers of pure silver.”
The elder finished and coughed more in the process, his body racked every time he went for breath. Khosumet thought for a moment on what the elder said, pondering what the words meant or — The realization hit him as soon as he thought of it.
“North. You want us to go north?” Khosumet said as he tried to comprehend it all. The elder nodded his head weakly. Khosumet knew the north; it wasn’t fully explored, but he knew that it was teeming with life. However, there was a much greater threat that lay within the north.
“Those lands are troll territory,” Khosumet muttered to himself, knowing that taking such an endeavor would surely mean the death of many wolves. The elder saw this and raised a paw out to him. Khosumet noticed and grabbed it, holding the frail hand that felt as if it would break if he let go.
“Khosumet,” the elder spoke again, “You need not worry. I have seen it. More will join you and follow you to whatever end. Our people will not falter and when you have doubt in your heart you too will one day have visions, as I have. Follow those visions, they will help be your guid—” the elder stopped as another torrent of coughs racked his body; he was slipping away from them. Both Marrok and Khosumet held him, trying to keep him steady but it was not enough. When the coughing ceased the elder was still and deathly quiet. A faint whisper escaped the elders lips.
“Oh moon goddess… you can… pull me in now.” The elder closed his eyes as his breathing lessened. Khosumet was losing him.
“Elder! Please! Don’t go yet! I have so many questions to ask, so many things to say! Please I… I know not what to do.” Khosumet kept speaking, trying his best to keep the elder alive. Then the thought crossed his mind: his daughter, his small Rain.
“Elder. Please. My daughter Rain. What future lies before her? What will become of her?
”
The elder opened his eyes weakly at the question. His white pupils strained to look out and to find Khosumet. When they finally locked onto him, the elder gave a weak smile.
“Oh Khosumet… your daughter… Rain. She is… so… blessed.”
The grip on Khosumet’s paw began to slip. The elder rested his head against the wall his eyes looking straight up at the wall above.
“She is so… blessed.” The elder breathed his final breath, the air escaping his body and leaving an empty husk. The elder’s white eyes began to dilate and the light in his eyes faded, leaving him staring into nothingness. The elder was gone. Khosumet looked at Marrok who shared the same remorse. They placed his hands upon his chest and closed his eyes. They soon exited the room into the smaller interior, where the wolf mothers looked on in worry. When they saw them Marrok’s and Khosumet’s ears fell back and they lowered their heads. The wolf mothers saw this and their grieve and tears began to spill out. Nearby a wolf guard exited the tent, likely to spread the news of the elder’s passing. As they all wept for his passing Marrok turned to Khosumet.
“Khosumet. Your people will need you now more then ever. What shall we do?”
Khosumet did not reply, but remained focused on the elder’s last words. Right now he wished nothing more than to protect his daughter and his people. He turned to Tyra, who still held onto Rain and her small son. She was resting now, her body cradled tightly in her arms. He went over to her and placed a single finger across Rain’s cheek. She responded by smiling warmly in her sleep and that gave him comfort. Marrok came to his side, still awaiting for his answer and Khosumet turned and gave his response.
“We must bury the elder as the rituals dictate. After it is over we must gather the packs. We march north.”