that's stupid.

Tucker. His brother was the cause of all this. Family was a blessing from Gaia, and a thorn in Anton’s fucking side. Was he set to cause doom between brothers? The words ‘the assassin saved him’ forged anger up his spine. Anton wanted to call the younger out on this, explain that there were always peaceful ways to handle any situation. The idea of Tanner wanting to be mentored by someone who killed first and asked questions later was the exact type of person Anton would eliminate for the better good of his– pack.

Tucker tapped into every kids wildest dreams. And it was worse for Tanner because before him wasn’t a child but someone well into their thirties. Adolescence bound to him in ways no one entirely understood. So maybe this type of adventure would be best over being surrounded with his home– his true family. Anton felt flashed back to an older time when he had his sons saying their goodbyes. Not for good, no they were explaining why they weren’t staying in their main encampment. How they each wanted a chance to build a home, take on unique responsibilities. How his one boy left for Spain to spy for them…it all was somehow still part of Gaia’s will for the pack.

The next words were the truest he’s heard since they met. 

“I should kill him,” Anton said deeply, a hinted tone of old tongues lingering in the very back of his throat. “You do– I will not make this choice for you. If you run away there are consequences. You will be ronin– I should tear your brand out.” The words were meant to be mean– to illicit some fear into Tanner to see reason. “But I will not. Your spirit is too free to contain you– Gaia gave you these visions for a reason. And if I have learned anything…” 

He paused, the weight of very old wounds about his brother carving open violently within him that he didn’t ever want to allow access too. A frown etched between his brows, ears perked and phased towards the woods. He reached out and cupped just under Tanner’s cheeks– delivering a sigh that some how spoke more about how he felt about everything than he could ever put to proper words. 

“I will tell Elki where you went, but if you are to go– you should leave now. Don’t lose Gaia Tanner Abbitt. If she steers you back– listen.”

Forever filled with the emotion and stagnant veracity of an adolescent, Tanner felt the corners of his eyes swell with tears. The same anxious feeling erupted in the pits of his chest, though the anxiety now was different, maybe misplaced. Ronin. It was a disgraced term to those of natural born blood, to those who still had a pack and did not accept outcasts into their own. Though something was different now that the young wolf heard it roll off the tongue of the ancient blooded elder; ronin meant differently to Tanner than it did to Anton. For years Tanner had seen the result of some ronin wolves come to Vargulf and be accepted by Elki Etu, who was known to instill his trust and encouragement to those that had made mistakes in their past lives. Tanner could not recall those wolves to be murderers or cruel to the point of being pardoned for no reason, and Tanner would be no different than them. However, this was a choice. His banishment would be considered betrayal, and perhaps the worse of them all.

Without permission to leave and maybe come back at a later time, Tanner's name would be tainted in the eyes of Vargulf tribe.

"Do you think she will steer me back?"

It was more whispered then spoken, more rhetoric then with expected answer. Tanner had gone years without being taken seriously, and maybe he shouldn't have been able to make this decision on his own, without guidance. But he was realizing that that was part of the issue, that everything Tucker had said in this regard was true. Tanner would never be stronger and wiser without allowing himself to become his own version of this unique and strange wolf --  this rarity -- that he was. Acceptance was difficult. Even in human times he was told what to do, how to act. And maybe he never really listened much, and the rebellion towards his parents was easy. It had been expected of him to move on, grow up, get married, and become a man. And Tanner had wanted that for himself...to have children, be a grandfather, own a home. He just wanted to do it in his own way.

Tanner caught movement behind Anton in the trees where Tucker was. How he had even gotten there that quick was a mystery Tanner couldn't quite fathom right now. In fact, just thinking about what else his brother could do as a human made Tanner momentarily oppose the werewolf inside of his skin. Weighing his decision came out equal on both ends; he was terrified of Tucker, but he suddenly trusted him without worry.

"I'll carve out my brand myself," Tanner knew the importance of disowning the pack name. "I won't let anyone know where I'm from. I won't let any harm come back here,"

A foghorn was heard from the docks in the city, noting to everyone around that the next boat would be leaving any moment. This is what caused Tucker to escape from his place in the trees. He landed silently with his bow in his hand, always ready to defend and fight if need be. Tanner swallowed hard, then nodded to him behind the old beast.

"That's my brother,"

Tucker walked with haste, fearless but on guard, towards his smaller brother in front of Anton. His wrappings has been replaced around his head during his travel south, revealing only a matching set of eyes. He placed his free hand on Tanner's shoulder. "We must leave,"

"Okay,"

Tanner inhaled deep, hoping to shroud his desperate need to weep. His home, his belongings -- everything would be left behind. Tanner ran his fingers against the feathers on his tomahawks in passive remembrance. His words became choked towards Anton. "I can't say goodbye...not to you..."

Tucker squeezed his shoulder as if to know where this fit of emotion would lead to again. He may not have known Tanner his entire life but the connection was always there. Tucker removed the wrappings from his face, allowing Anton to see him for the human he was.

"I'm just a man," Tucker spoke to Anton with a bluntness that was bitter, but in that moment his voice expressed exhaustion. He wasn't young anymore, though some might mistaken him as such given the way he had shown himself the past year. Tucker yearned for anyone in Tanner's life to approve of this decision, even if it was not truly sincere. Having someone speak on his brothers behalf was suddenly more important than he realized. "Like you, I have studied packs around the world throughout my years. I've been searching mostly for the pack that left Egypt. But they’re gone. And for centuries their absence has allowed for more bloodshed than the Vikings would ever know. A demon lead me to Egypt to train, told me that it was not only for my fate but for my brothers. I did not know what they meant at the time, I did not even know that Tanner was alive until the year before last. It was then that I realized the connection; the wolves aren't coming back to Egypt -- we must bring one to them,"

Tucker squeezed Tanner's shoulder again. "Gaia is not done with him. She will show him tragedy of the present and mercilessness of the future. I need Tanner to see the fate of my city, the fate of my country. To do so he must be far away from Athoria, for this country taints the mind. And forgive me, but he is meant for something more than what he has received here,"

The foghorn blew once again, a single cry that was their final chance to board. Tanner knew that it was time. He plucked a feather from one of his tomahawks, opened Anton's hand and placed it inside. "It's from one of the Great Eagles. I swear I saw one once but no one believed me. But I know you do, you always do,"

He started walking backwards with Tucker who was already on the move towards the ports town. But something stopped him, for a very simple and very childish moment. Tanner ran back to Anton and collided with his torso. “Thank you,” he mumbled against his massive chest of furs before releasing him and scurrying away.

Tanner held back tears as him and Tucker boarded the ship just as it was pulling away from the docks. The young wolf watched sensitively until his country was just a spot in the distance. As it faded from view, Tanner rushed to the back of the boat and stood on the wooden planks until he was practically dangling off the sides. With his throat contorting to his wolven form, Tanner let out the longest and painstakingly saddest howl that he could muster.

What ever happened to that pack outside Egypt?

The mess of words, and dizzying speeds of which he was being dumped on was more appreciated than attempting to pick apart each and every hint to a more introverted wolf. But that didn’t mean his face didn’t show how grim and angry he was getting by the second. A fierceness etched along Anton’s jaw, a slight press of fangs to wind chapped lips. The scent along the wolf’s skin– dotted in invisible hand-prints, and wrapped around Tanner like a sickening joke to infuriate and tease the beast. Tanner’s jubilant attitudes were usually easy to steer in a certain direction with their interactions, but it was clear that the wolf wasn’t here to ask his opinion.

“You are here to say goodbye–”

The words boomed strongly, resonating down his spine as he sniffed the air for the scent now clung to him from Tanner’s hug, reaching with his nose towards the forests. Tanner would easily be able to out run any mortal so the lag was understandable, but this assassin dared to put these elaborate ideas into Tanner’s head so freely. Anton breathed in, expanding all his chest until the distorted shapes of exposed shifted ribs hidden under thin skin threatened to break open. His howl was a monstrous demand, clear in intent for one set of ears. It raced through the Hallowed Oak, up and over it’s rolling hills as if carried by magic. Anton’s ears were turned on the other moving about, but the amber of his eyes were held strongly on the younger.

“Who are they?” he asked with a hint of demand in desired understanding, curling fists to keep from sprinting into the woods and ripping the throat out of this man. To ask him if he’s killed was a dagger to his heart– of course he has. He slaughtered more mortals and ronin’s to stain his hands a permanent red to follow him in death. But his brand was one of peace and council. “Elki will hear my howl. How long do you have? Actually speak Tanner– why call me here? What is it you are looking for?”

Tanner squinted at Anton’s howl, not out of fear but out of pure resignation and how particular close to Anton he was standing at the time. He hadn’t prepared for all of this to happen right now, this soon after discovering who the assassin was and what was expected of Tanner. Elki and his warriors would come soon to see what the fuss was about and to welcome their friend onto Athorian soil. But Tanner did not want Elki to see him leave, and he especially did not want Elki to see his brother in the state that he was...who he was. No, if Tanner had any chance of leaving, it needed to be on the next ship. 

Tucker was right, after all. They needed to leave tonight.

“It’s Tucker,” he exhaled, his brothers name still sounding foreign on his tongue after not speaking the syllables for so long. “Gaia’s dream...it wasn’t just a dream Anton it was a memory. Distorted of course but -- in the dream Tucker killed the bear, he killed the beast. I saw it happen, I felt it happen --” Tanner remembered it all too well, and his body shivered at the blood and the sting of the blade. “He said he went home afterward and mother had sacrificed herself for a demon summoning, and the demon told him of a place where he could go to avenge me. Tucker has been alive this whole time fighting a war in Egypt. I’ve never heard of the place but you would know, right? He’s a good guy over there. He has to be. He said the royals in that country are awful, they kill their citizens, they slay them and take from them. Tucker has been fighting this whole time but now he’s here. He’s here for me,”

Tanner’s words had been more precise and not so overwhelming, but even as he spoke them his voice had gotten softer as if the reality of leaving with his brother was finally coming to light now that he had stopped and slowed down.

“He protected me --” he shook his head. “He said I can help him make a difference, learn my full potential. He doesn’t --” he pressed his lips together, knowing that his next set of words would not sit well with his Alpha friend. “He said that I have learned nothing here. And I -- well, I agree with him. I want to be stronger. I want to save people! I can’t do anything here. I would never be ready for war,” he looked at Anton with determination. “Tucker saved me countless times this year...times where I should I have been dead. From guards in Monir after touching the coin, to the witches in the woods, to bandits with Sera. I couldn’t protect myself. But he says if I go with him then he’d teach me to be an assassin like him and save his city. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a spy, a warrior. This just feels right,”

Tanner looked in the distance where eventually his fellow packmates would emerge. He still had time. 

Follow Up: Letters Ports of Athoria (Just prior to this hell storm)

He meddled in the affairs of this young wolf without need to. Less it be his pleading young eyes, and a request the old one granted. Anton had received a letter from Tanner stating that someone was following him– protecting him. It could be a multitude of things. A hunting group trying to pick off what appeared to be a ‘weaker’ member of Elki’s pack to lure others into a trap. It could be personal. Someone from Tanner’s past irked and in want to be around the wolf. It could be a poacher, trying to earn trust to gain a bigger haul of wolves.

It was endless what this could be. But back on Athorian soils, nestled on the beaches of the Ports burned through most of Anton’s reserves for positivity. This was his fault in the root of it. He had created this hadn’t he? It was never on the other wolves, at least he believed they all had choices to make and failures to feel. It was always the choices that sometimes held consequences, and other times reward. But there was an unspoken weight any Alpha felt when council was met. In this case, he allowed himself to feel regret before he faced the other.

He walked up the beaches, heading for the very furthest edge that lead to a thick covering of bare trees mourning in their reach for water. Roots exposed violently to express their need for the substance, the soils rocky, and long washed away from the powerful tide leaving pockets of life attempting to survive the biting nip of a coming winter.  A scent he knew very well rode the breeze in greeting long before sight. It was however, the sight that made Anton turn against the wind. To see a familiar mop of unruly hair and a smile that shocked his heart into a regretful longing for family he’s long lost and wanted now above all else. Partially stunned in his position, he stared up the slope far longer than he should have before a proper greeting broke past his lips. “Tanner–”

If there was anything that he could still do better than his brother...it was run. 

Speed came naturally for the young wolven boy and Tanner used it to his advantage traveling down from Chile Village. The trek was long and filled with curiosities that rummage through Tanner’s mind, but somehow they were slightly more acute than they had been before. With his head somewhat occupied with thoughts that were at least not so daunting, Tanner’s accuracy towards the ports town was a much needed release of energy. He thought about much in the process, leaving Tucker behind him somewhere and assuming he could get there on his own accord...about the doppelganger boy he had killed, about Egypt (though a part of him still believed it was not a real place), and leaving the pack. But mostly he thought about Anton and his reaction, and hoped that he could indeed sway the old wolf into seeing things his way, and pardoning him on behalf of Elki.

It was risky business. Tanner was willing to take a shot.

What seemed like days later, Tanner caught the beautiful stench of fishermen and Seraphina’s perfumes, mixed together with sweaty shipwrights and foreign people traveling from all over the world to see the wonders of Athoria. The closer he came the city, Tanner realized that it might be the last time he ever smelled the stinky place, and as he broke through the trees to marvel at the ocean in front of him Tanner inhaled the salty air of sea water and shivered at the scent.

It was not the only smell captured through enhanced senses; as if Gaia had destined it to be just so, he also caught whiff of Anton on Athoria soil.

The young wolf temporarily forgot about all of life’s doubts and triggers and tracked only the smell of his grumpy friend. Everything else faded into absolutely nothing and the only important thing was finding Anton and greeting him appropriately. At the sight of dark messy hair and the brooding face that only Anton could express, Tanner toppled over the branches and roots of the outline of Hallowed Oak and stumbled towards his friend from across the sea.

“Anton!” He collided into his chest, his shorter stature always apparent to adults. Even being turned at fourteen Tanner had been a runt for his age, and the height had stuck. “You made it! Wow, I can’t believe you got here that fast. Do you know I was just thinking about you?? I thought maybe you’d be here and here you are!” He released his friend and looked up at him with overexcited eyes, not particularly thinking about the stench of his brother or Chile Village that probably lingered on him, or the fact that he was supposed to be in peril...and not so jubilant.

“If I don’t tell you right now I’m going to explode!” Tanner exclaimed. “I found him! The assassin that I was telling you about. Can you believe it? I talked to him just now and I saw him and he’s not so bad. Well maybe he’s not the greatest person in the world considering he’s killed people, but who hasn’t killed someone these days, right? You’ve had to kill people before, right? I haven’t killed anyone, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak or anything. I just don’t ever get into that sort of trouble, you know? But I could fight if I needed to! I just haven’t learned yet. I’m ready to learn! The assassin told me he would teach me, too! Not to kill people!...at least I don’t think so. Actually he wasn’t too clear on those details -- but what does it matter?! I could really help some people! I just need to go to Egypt! Is that a real place?!”

Oz rocked back on his heels and watched as the boy he knew as Tanner approached the other who looked just like him. When he spoke a name, Oz’s immediate assumption was that it must be a twin or a sibling, but the response caused his jaw to drop with juvenile amazement and awe. They were both Tanner? How was that even possible? What could have caused this?

He knew the answer, deep down and far back in his mind, behind a locked door with a heavy, dark curtain covering it. Magic. Magic could make a person look like someone they weren’t, magic could make someone sound like someone they weren’t. A good enough potion, or spell, or even a special kind of gift, they could all make someone what they weren’t. But this wasn’t the Oz who knew about magic, who understood what stirred within him, who knew what could be done with a few special words muttered by gifted lips. This was a young, ignorant Oz, who bounced giddily on his toes as he watched the exchange between the look-a-likes with earnestness and excitement. 

It was just starting to get good when something happened. They were just starting to talk about the Tucker that Tanner the First thought Tanner the Second actually was, and Oz leaned forward as though he was watching the climax of a wonderful performance. All it took was one blink to make him stand up straight, his mind suddenly feeling as though something had lassoed around it. It was warm and familiar, like his own mind searching through itself. It tore the curtain down with a flash of light, it broke down the door with a fiery blast, and it sent something terrifying rushing forward to the front of his mind with such speed and vehemence it weakened his knees and caused a sharp gasp to escape him. 

He managed to catch himself with his hands in the dirt before he completely collapsed onto the ground, his vision going blurry for a few moments. He could barely process what the boys were saying anymore, the curious boys who looked alike and claimed to be the other but didn’t seem to know each other. They were young, probably barely into their adolescent years, and it occurred to Oz quite suddenly that they couldn’t possibly stop to think about the more dire consequences of what this might be. Looking around, he tried to catch sight of someone else, but all he saw was a brief flash in an otherwise shadowy alleyway and then nothing else. Sweat had formed on his brow, and his body was shaking slightly as his mind reeled with the fact he was forced to be the adult in this situation. He was meant to be mature, to have the answers, but he was coming up short, and this wasn’t something he could perform his way out of. 

The arrow shot by so fast Oz didn’t have time to think. Hands still shaking, he managed to push himself up onto his knees to use his hands to manipulate a ball of fire and send it flying after the arrow. It was too late, the flames trailing meters behind the arrow that invested itself so perfectly into its target. Oz waved his hands and made the flames dissolve, snapping his head to look at the Tanner nearest him to see what his reaction may be. All he really knew about archers was that their quivers rarely held only one arrow, and he wasn’t keen on staying around to figure out how true that may be for whoever shot the dark arrow for whatever reason. He could guess it wasn’t an accident, and that only made his heart beat at a pace so rapid it ignited the fear in him even more.

“We need to go,” Oz stated suddenly, pushing himself up onto his feet quickly. “If whoever shot that doesn’t kill us, the villagers will.”

He didn’t even stop to think that he’d shown his powers in front of this young boy. He didn’t care that he may have jeopardized himself once again in a place where villagers may have been looking nosily out their windows to see what these strangers might do. He’d spent six years in Nottingham, six years in the School and the Coven learning about the importance not of good and bad but the process of life and destruction. Once destruction was done, it could not be undone, but something new could be made of it. But destruction was meant to come to those things that had lived and had a history that made their destruction significant, so what could be the significance of the death of such a young boy? He barely had any life behind him. It was why children got scrapes and teenagers got deeper cuts and adults got broken bones and the elderly died. It was a more even exchange, not something so unbalanced. Then again, where was the balance in two of the same person in one place?

Slow motion.

The doppelganger fell backwards, arms spread to the sky with a look of surprise and anguish on his adolescent face. Frozen.

Oz released a fireball, proving his species for all to see, but he was unable to save the boy. Onlookers cried out around them at the scene...and Tanner managed, among the distraction, to inhale deeply so that every single canine sense inside of him took hold of the assassins scent and finally held onto it.

Because it had to be him...

Anger was an uncommon emotion for the adolescent wolf, but anguish and hostility boiled instantly inside of him as he watched his doppelganger fall to the ground. A puff of dust erupted underneath of him and the ground became red with his blood. He could still hear the whiz of the arrow by his ear in an remnant echo. Oz’s voice sounded drowned in mud as he spoke, and Tanner strained to understand what was being said. Instead, he turned in the direction that the arrow came from and he saw the black cloak disappear into the border of the Hallowed Oak. Fight or flight; he had but seconds to decide what to do. Every part of him wanted to stay and make sure that his twin received a proper burial, even if it was in a world he did not belong.

tannerabbitt:

solely-oz:

It was a rare occasion for Oz to manage to keep himself quiet, but he managed to do so as they walked and the boy rambled. It brought a wide amused smile to Oz’s lips, almost able to hear the words coming from his own mouth and in the voice he had in his youth. The stories the boy spoke about were the very tales that made all the people in the village so skittish and superstitious, and for that reason he had been burned by nothing shy of pure ignorance. He liked to think now that he always knew he wouldn’t ever actually die in the typical flames that they sent any other accused witches and supernaturals up in. Whether that was true, even he didn’t know. He doubted he’d ever thought he would be put on the pyre even up until the hour before it happened, when he was covered in his own blood and shackled to someone’s basement wall.

Despite the dark images that surfaced, the smile never faded, and a loud laugh that must have startled anyone nearby suddenly erupted from deep in his chest when the boy mused about fire. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find a fire somewhere,” he agreed, remembering to keep his pace slower than the usual long, rapid strides so he wouldn’t end up yards ahead of the boy. “And it’s very boring around here. They worship the gods of quiet voices and brown clothing.” He chuckled at his own criticism, hardly hushed enough to let it seem as though he cared if any passers-by may here him. With each step he took in his old village, the more empowered and brave he felt about his untouchability within the boundaries of the dismal place.

Just as the boy seemed to take notice of something that actually caught his interest - how difficult it could be to come across something like that in a place like Chile Village - Oz was distracted by someone who passed by. They were hooded, and moving at a rather quick pace, two things that would have set any typical Chile Villagers on high alert. At the very least the hood was made out of the same type of drab cloth that most of the villagers wore, but at this time with the sun starting to set, and not yet any particularly biting weather, it was highly suspect. Oz couldn’t help his own curiosity as he stepped toward the hooded figure, wondering if they might be an odd enough man out in this sea of similarity to be of some aide to the two others.

No sooner had the dust settled after Oz’s first footfall than the hooded figure seemed to sense that someone was approaching them. The instinctive glance over his shoulder was such an innocent, peaceful gesture, but it might as well have been a spear that went straight through Oz’s chest and left him staring with his jaw dangling at the sight of his own eyes staring back at him. He’d never seen them so clearly as he did then, when they weren’t even his eyes. Despite the shadow of the hood, he could make out every feature, and could only guess that there must be all the same scars and marks on the man that was him but also wasn’t him. Before he could move again, a bright flash suddenly momentarily blinded Oz, as if a bright ray of sun had reflected off of a large metal plate, but neither the sun was that strong nor was there anything metal nearby for it to reflect off of. By the time he’d regained his sight properly, the hooded doppelganger was gone, and he was left speechless as his mind reeled and tried to figure out how to process what he’d just seen.

He’d put it off for later, he decided. He was in his home village, the place where he spent his youth, and what better time to act as if he was in his youth again? As a child he’d always put things off, always just pushed them aside until it was either almost too late to deal with them or they’d completely faded from his memory. Spinning suddenly to face Tanner again, his grin had become less amused and more childish as he walked forward less gracefully than he had for years. He looked more like a child just adjusting to a new pair of shoes that he’d never worn before. “Really?” he inquired, voice an octave higher than it had been moments before. “You should show me one day!” Turning his attention toward the shop, he watched as a boy who looked just like Tanner walked out, and the grin turned almost lop-sided at the sight of him. “He looks like you!” Oz exclaimed, pointing without hesitation toward the other boy. “Looks like he can do it, too! Or maybe he actually has to buy! Do you know him?”

If he had time later, Tanner would be more than happy to show Oz a thing or two about shooting arrows. After all, if there was at least one thing he had perfected during his time in Vargulf it was crafting for the warriors. He tried to make the arrows as precisely as he could, as well-made as he would want them for himself. But Oz pointing behind him caught his attention more, and Tanner swung around almost instantly in anticipation.

He wasn’t wrong; the boy who had exited the smith shop looked just like him.

“Whoa...”

Tanner had been a twin his whole mortal life, all fourteen years of it. He was used to seeing himself on a daily basis, though as a child his hair was longer and shaggier and Tucker’s had always been so finely cut, like he was a prince or something. But they had been the same size, had the same voice...it didn’t take him long to get used to seeing his reflection everywhere he went. But for the last thirty-five years, Tanner had been without his twin. He was taken aback only for a few seconds...staring more in awe than he did in confusion. Memories of Tucker swarmed him like a storm. The emotion that began to swell in his chest was unlike anything he had every felt before. Parts of him wanted to rush out and hug him, wrestle him to the ground and mess up that hair. Others want to throw that arrow right through his chest out of anger and spite, for pushing Tanner to run away in the first place.

The doppelganger had stopped too, his eyes switching back ad forth from Oz to Tanner. The collection of wood he was carrying dropped to his feet, and his mouth went agape.

“Tucker?!” he then hollered, a booming sound that surprised Tanner. The wolf child looked behind him, as if for some reason there would be yet another version of him standing somewhere else, because he couldn’t possibly be talking to him. He looked back at Oz and shrugged.

“I’m Tanner! Who are you?” he managed to shout in confusion to the boy who looked just like him.

“I’m Tanner!”

“What?”

“What?!”

Silence befell them as the shock settled in. Tanner gulped and took a few steps towards his brother, or himself...or this impostor...whoever he was. He put out his hands in friendly approach.

“Look, my name is Tanner. I heard that there was someone here who looked like me around here...I had a brother a long time ago, his name was Tucker too...are you...are you real?”

“Of course I’m real! Are you?!”

Tanner patted his arms and chest just to make sure.

“Yeah, yeah I’m real,”

“I used to,” Oz responded, coupling the words with a wistful sigh, as if he actually missed the place that had literally tried to burn him out. The boy was seeking someone who looked just like him. A twin, perhaps? Oh, it was always so fun to put on an act where he got to pretend to play twins who were seeking the other out. The quick costume changes were a drag, but then again, he did always have a bit of magic to aid him with that. “Is it a sibling of yours? I’m sure it shouldn’t be hard to find. Most parents around here like to lock their children away before the sun has fully set, anyway. Apologies if you are from here and your parents are like that, but then again, apologies mostly for the fact you live that way, with as little offense meant as possible. I happen to have a very good set of eyes inside this skull of mine if you need help, but I also will be in need of some help in exchange.”

“I’m Tanner. I got a last name. It’s Abbitt. Tanner Abbitt,”

Tanner knew the stories of Chile Village quite well. It was good to hear that these rumors and tales were justified. He didn’t know where to go or where to start so he picked a direction and headed that way. The structures and homes were nothing special; maybe they had been put together by mud and dirt or something. Most of the boards were tilted and rotted. He bet that his pack down in Trinity Lakes could give them better wood to build more sturdy architecture. Maybe if they ventured out a little more they’d find some themselves...

Small talk was easy and Tanner could ramble. So he did.

“I ain’t ever been here. Doesn’t seem like there is a lot to do around here anyway. What is the point of going to sleep when the sun goes down? Sometimes the best adventures happen under the stars. I guess if you don’t know anything about the stars and the sky and the constellations and the sun and moons and the planets up there then it doesn’t seem interesting. I know a lot about that stuff. In fact, I bet I know more than you do. I’m sort of an expert...well, okay maybe an expert but I do know a lot of information about things that people only think they know about. I bet this village gets visited by all sorts of spooky things and they don’t even know it. All the cities do. Don’t you know any of those tales? You know, the ones about the changelings and the unicorns or lions as big as a mansion! I bet Chile Village could tell you a story or two. Maybe later we can find a fire to sit around. Do you think they sit around fires here? I guess not...not if they all get put away at night...how boring....”

Skipping over misplaces stones and kicking the ones he could, Tanner chatted and became distracted at small things and found little interest in the walk. People ignored them and kept their heads down, and if others were laughing and carrying on they stopped as soon as they came near.

The Alpha nodded thankfully when Tanner gave her the pastry and bit into it. It tasted wonderful, the right amount of sweet and sugar, and made her smile. A very long while, she corrected her earlier thought, and followed Tanner outside of the city. Though it went unspoken, Saura knew a werewolf only felt truly at home, at peace, when in the wilderness. They were no creatures made for living in cities without any green, without the unrestricted freedom that the forests and hills provided. Cities had walls and borders, nature did not. She could see it in the way Tanner moved that he agreed.

She let him ramble on as she continued eating, licking her fingers clean so they wouldn’t be sticky once she was done. Saura hummed. “Knowing a city and truly knowing it is a big difference. I know many cities, but none the way you do yours. Knowledge differs greatly.” She sped up a bit to walk next to him. “Maybe one day you’ll see them. Or the world. There is no knowing that right now.” After all, she would have never thought she’d come from Japan to England, and then get to see Athoria. Fate was beyond their comprehension. “You’re still young, who says you won’t know all cities in a few years.”

Tanner skipped ahead a few beats through the pumpkin patches, jumping over the heavy vines and growing vegetation. With Saura around, all was peaceful. He couldn’t wait to hear the never ending stories that she and Elki shared, or see the bond between them flicker like energy falling from the sky. A special togetherness brought the packs together, even if it were initially through chaos and tragedy. Tanner had been lucky to have never faced such burdens. But he was not naive in the art of immortality. Being next to Saura, and with Elki being from an original line himself, Tanner saw the expectation and growth of his future. He was not ready now, but one day he would be.

I write to you only because I have no choice. I think that something is happening to me and I don’t know what to do. There is a man –well, at least I think he is a man and he’s following me around and killing people that want to hurt me and…he’s protecting me, maybe…maybe not. I last saw him at Artscape and – well I’m scared. I trust my pack…I trust in Elki…But you – will you come find this…this assassin for me?

Oh, and another thing –Gaia’s sight showed me my brother in a dream killing a bear and…I am starting to think…but no, it can’t be. Right?

➹ Tanner

Anton hadn’t desired to leave England so soon. He sat upon a hill outside London and contemplated the best response. The courier waited patiently.

Tanner, 

Of course I will see you. Fear will challenge your bravery, and you reaching out is proof you are taking this head on– I am proud of you. Don’t ever doubt your instincts. It’s okay to be scared alright? Stay with your family. 

See you in a few moons, I’ll howl for you outside the Ports.

“You showing him this?” he spoke to Gaia like he deserved such conversations. The incubus didn’t expect an answer, but as the dream shifted into a vision he knew this was a gift for the wolf. How cute.

“Ah, I get it now. That’s adorable– hope for one lost to be alive and well,” Verin didn’t like the change around him. The dream felt sticky. Being formed not from the Dream Realm, but in control of this deity. He was surprised he wasn’t burned out of his mind if he was honest, but Verin hadn’t hurt the wolf. He was a parasite watching, feeding on the violence as a quiet nightmare lingered in the edges of your sites but never fully seeing.

Once the taste of light left his mouth, Verin touched the vision. The incubus shattering it like it was made of glass, pieces of the vision fell all around him and finally the wolf he had been in appeared with crystal clarity. The demon twisted his body into what the wolf believed to be his God. Gaia’s fingers reaching out to just touch his temple, and caress the young creatures cheek. The incubus internally chuckled at how this all finished. To know that bratty boy in the beginning of the dream was his brother– and then to hear those words at the end.

To hear what was said about him in the daytime tended to not always be so flattering, or at least not so exciting, but he still couldn’t keep himself from listening. When a messenger arrived with a note from an Athorian friend that was emphasized to be about him, he quickly unraveled the parchment before the young boy’s heels were even out of sight. Rumors? About him? To see the first statement in the message was already drawing out a chuckle, well aware that some of his exploits and comments could lead to people assuming the wrong things, and the easiest way to deal with it was to act unaffected and laugh it off. More often than not, it was easy enough to find amusement in whatever was said about him. Two words in the note, however, were enough to make him go pale as though he’d seen a ghost, and his legs suddenly felt as though they were engulfed in flames. Chile Village.

How had he been spotted in Chile Village? Quietly walking through the streets…when was the last time he ever did anything quietly? Especially when he was in Chile? He used to barrel his way through the alleys and leap out into the fast-moving crowds on their way to church, waving around a broken bit of glass to catch whatever bit of sun there might be to shine lights in people’s eyes and spark flames or create smoke where he could. Had he been complacent when they tied him to the pyre? Had he been quiet when he broke free and left them staring gape-mouthed at the man who survived a burning at the stake? No, not for a second. He ran away screaming at the top of his lungs, but who on earth had dared to say they’d seen him again? 

Or was he a legend by now? That thought alone fed on his ego in ways that couldn’t be explained. A legend of the theater, that was something he always aimed for, but a legend in a village? Not a good legend, of course, but a cursed legend that was probably being used as a scary nighttime story that the Chile Villagers loved to tell their children so much. A warning tale. Oh, the looks on their faces if he actually did show up when they thought he was probably dead by now, that’d be enough to make him return. It was all he could think of as he packed a sack, all he could think of as he made his way to Norwich where Freya had arranged travels with a companion, all he dreamed about the nights on the sea. It was perhaps the first time he’d never been sick while traveling by sea, the unsteady rocking and irritating sound of water sloshing the sides of the boat easily drowned out as he imagined the gasping, screaming reactions to seeing him appear again.

He would need to be discrete though, something that didn’t come very naturally to him. After arriving in Athoria, he took a rather roundabout way of getting to Chile Village, sneaking in and changing into the drably colored clothes that were so common in those parts. Though he did tend to dress in the normal attire of a laborer while off-stage and on his own time, he did like to have at least some color in the fabrics. A hint of red or blue in a tunic, he was certain, would send a superstitious enough resident of the Village straight into their grave. Emerging onto the street, Oz quickly fell in step with a passing group of shoppers who seemed on their way to see a merchant. Their conversation about increase in prices of meat and what church hymns they hoped to hear that day tired him within seconds, and the only bit of excitement he’d had since sneaking into the village came when he spotted a young boy nearby. The children of the Village had always been the people he preferred to interact with as he’d grown older, as they weren’t yet so suspicious of everything around them, and they weren’t afraid to laugh when something creative or imaginative was mentioned. And they’d probably be least likely to recognize him now but most informed about any rumors that may be spreading about a man who’d escaped fire.

The wolf took a moment to look around at the passers-by, wondering what they were up to and if any of them had recognized him yet. They walked with their heads down and scurried about is if something were chasing them at the heels. It made him laugh. What was there to be afraid of? Sure, Tanner had heard some stories of monster attacks and a few good burnings...but what city didn’t have that every now and again? If anything, Chile Village was probably more safe than anywhere else in Athoria...it didn’t really seem to make sense to be so afraid all the time. What did they do for fun?