#frostblaze

Preface: Read http://ocarina-of-what.tumblr.com/post/182736834669/whats-left-behind first, as this picks up almost immediately after the arrival of Frostblaze and Kipcha.

He knelt at the mouth of the cage, undoing the last clasps around the muzzles.  Dried blood flecked his fingertips, sticky in the cold and bright against the white fur and snow.  A voice was trying to talk to him, faint, maybe one of the stable hands pulling at his shoulder.  They’d said something about the wolves fighting like demons, but it didn’t really register.  Frostblaze and Kipcha were back.  Without her.  

They never left without her.  

Never.

Cold hands combed through white fur, voice soft as Ithranicus tried to be as soothing as possible.  Kipcha, freed from her muzzle, nipped at him, trying to tear those same fingers away from the man invading their space.  

Anger, and rage.  So much anger and rage.  

“Kipcha, it’s me.  It’s Ith.  See?”

The glove on his free hand was pulled off, the uncovered hand offered to the raging wolf.  If they were as intelligent as Veli implied, the wolf would understand.  

“I’m not here to hurt you.  I’m not here to hurt you.  I’m not here to hurt you, Kipcha.”  

A soothing hand roamed through Frostblaze’s fur, while his other hovered just out of reach from the snapping jaws and razor teeth.  It became something of a game; every attempt at touch was rewarded with an attempt at shredding his hand, mouth and fingers playing back and forth in their dance.

“Go ahead, Kipcha.  Sate your rage.  It’s okay.”  

The early rays of the sun settled against the snow, rising on another day.  Peeking through the stable doors and spilling over the animals kept therein, brilliantly lighting the cold white fur on Frostblaze’s flanks and muzzle.  Dusty gold fur settled next to him; Kipcha lay nuzzled against her mate in fitful slumber.  Pinned against the wall, crimson and gold resplendent in the morning light despite the dirt and fur besmirching the colors, Ithranicus stirred as the light spilled across his eyes.  Rising, ensuring the injured pair weren’t disturbed, he quietly slipped free of the cage.  

Velianor, his old apprentice, was missing and hurt.  He had to know what happened to her, wanted to go himself- but that wasn’t feasible.  He had people counting on him now, had a command of his own, had to make decisions with other people’s lives.  The days of dropping everything to run into the wilds were closing fast, it seemed.  Another would have to go in his place.  

“Kipcha.  Frostblaze.”  

One eye snapped open, narrowed and hungry.  A second rolled to attention, hurt and pained.  

“Ready to go find her?”

Clad in heavy furs against the cold, cradling a rifle half his own height, Anokirin Sunstalker left the Sunguard camp a few hours after dawn broke.  With him came a dusty gold wolf, reluctant to leave, but determined to go.  A hunting party.  

Together they trotted into the cold and the snow, trails dark with blood and chaos, Kipcha leading the way to the last known places that her master had been. Velianor was not going to be left behind.