Snow and Ice

[tristan]

Blinking away tears of sleep, the lanky and growing Varg looked about him in the snow as he trudged on through the lands of his home and pack. He had been wandering around for a while, leaving his comrades to converse with his own thoughts of the bitter cold but mostly about the upcoming war. However, he felt like if he was going to confront this obstacle in his life, he needed to do it with his pack; they were going in together and would leave victorious together. Still, Ingo's paws wavered slightly from the confident, straight line of the wild wolf, which would have disappointed the youth had he noticed.

His breath smoking eerily on the frigid air, Ingo glanced up from watched the endless white churn beneath his paws to see a place he had been trying to find through the snow: the pack dens. He hoped he would find the rest of the pack there. With a shudder which he would have excused because of the cold, Ingo shuffled in the powdery white frost and padded slowly toward the den mouth, ears flicking as he listened for anything that would alert him to his packmates. Finally, the youth reached the opening and peered in, but the shadows would conceal anything for having been in the blinding white of snow for so long, his eyes needed to adjust.

"Hullo?" He called out softly, sinking into the dens.

[Rokk]

Rokk barely made an appearance to the pack dens, but this time he made an exception. he wanted somewhere warm to sleep, and the pack dens would be his place of refuse. although normally he tried to avoid the other members of Deor as much as he could. when he first joined they had all been suspicious of him, and with good reason, and that part of him still existed, although he was determined to prove them wrong, and with his new position in the pack, it made him even more determined to do so. he could waste all his snide comments and vicious urges to bully others on some who really deserved it, any one from any enemy pack. he had been a bully, and that part of him still existed, and, had got him into trouble more than once.

settling down into a ball of brown fur, which had darkened since he had been a pup, though remained a light brown along his belly, and he had developed a dark brown smudge of fur near the tip of his tail, and a dark brown right ear. these were distinguishing features now that had been less noticeable when he had been a pup. his eyes however, remained dark brown.

when Rokk had entered the pack dens, he had been greatly relieved to find them empty, and had settled down to sleep without much trouble. but with the war looming ever closer Rokk's recurring dreams about his past with the Balkar had plagued him even more often. the wolves of that pack chasing him, with Serg at the front of the crowd, standing out like a black demon of Wolfbane himself. Rokk had never believed in the God, but almost becoming a sacrifice to one God would make you even warier of the religion. what burned Rokk the most though, was in his dreams, he never had the courage to stand and fight. for he was a pup again. and true enough, he'd be dead if it hadnt of been for the sikla Lufian. and aswell as the mental scarring, he had teethmarks hidden beneath his winter pelt, and a limp that showed when he walked, sparking shooting pains if he pushed himself too hard.

half in and half out of dosing, Rokk blearily opened one eye to a soft call of "hello". growling in discomfort and irritance of being disturbed from his solitude, he called out a gruff 'hey' back. he vaguely recognised the voice, but the name and a mental picture eluded him. he shifted himself, stood up and shook himself, shaking off all the dosiness. brown eyes met with the form of Ingo, the name returning to him as he set sights on the varg. nodding a welcome Rokk sat back on his haunches, his left hind leg sitting more awkwardly than a normal varg's might. Rokk had never been very good at social situations. [/b]

[tristan]

A rather large and solidly built bulk shifted in the shadows of the den before Ingo's eyes could properly adjust. His tail lifted boldly and his hackles rose slightly, knowing that it was probably one of his packmates subconsciously, but too caught up in and around the thoughts of a war to even begin wondering why an enemy may take shelter in the pack dens. But another voice, older than his own but still friendly and quite recognizable lifted into the still air of the den to meet and greet Ingo's first word, and as he remembered the owner of the voice, his vision had shifted remarkably quickly to suit the darkness. 'Well,' he thought as he proceeded further into the den from his place near its mouth, tail lowered submissively toward a senior member and his hackles flatened, 'At least I didn't snarl or growl or do anything stupid.'

"Wow... no one's here. Ah, well." Ingo looked around in the semi-darkness at the contours of the insides of the stone and earth, supressing a shudder of thoughts about if the den actually collapsed. With a friendly, more-absent-than-not grin on his slender muzzle, the young wolf sat down in a movement that mostly looked as if he had nothing better to do. He flicked his ear in slight annoyance of the chill from the den floor, but otherwise stared outside for a moment, caught up in strange thoughts. Ingo did not realize that Rokk may have been caught in a nearly foriegn situation when Ingo had arrived, not did he really notice the strong, brown warrior was gone most of the time. Ingo had perhaps, been too preoccupied with the univetable that was brewing.

The snowflakes fluttered past on transparent wings of the wind, but the breath of the winter air could hardly penetrate this far back into the cave. For this, the youth was indeed grateful. With a blink and a slight jerk of his head as if waking from a daydream, Ingo asked curiously of Rokk, "I haven't seen Chalos, Temira, Jacquo, or Loki around lately. Do you know where they might be?" In fact, Ingo realized that Rokk was the only one he had seen for days. But thoughts of his packmates and their apparent solitude make Ingo answer his own question; they were probably out and about, doing the same thing and sifting through their own views about the war.

Taking a deep breath, Ingo turned back toward Rokk, smiling again but this faded too quickly. The youth hesitated for a second, not really knowing what to say or ask of his packmate, but shedding any discomfort as he concentrated on the asking and the answering of his question, although it was perhaps one that the youth did not exactly want to hear. "Rokk... about the upcoming war... well, do you fear its coming? I'm not at all sure that I ever really wanted to fight, at least not against wolves twice my experience." He added boldly, as if in excuse for fear if Rokk disapproved. Unbeknownst to the brown warrior perhaps, and even to Ingo, the younger Varg looked up to Rokk like an elder brother, and was everything that Ingo aspired to be.

[Rokk]

Rokk noticed the strange smile written upon the maw of Ingo, who was younger than him, but Rokk himself was still young. although sometimes he didnt feel it. he barely noticed what Ingo said as he entered the dens, and his nose twitched absent-mindedly. Rokk was under the impression that the vargs of Deor hated him. it was true that when he first arrived they definately did not trust him. a wise choice for what he had been, and what part of him still was.

the brown varg was about to return back into silent reverie, but Ingo's question made him wake up out of the mental dose he was about to sink into. 'what? oh, well, Deor is a small pack in comparison to others. i never see many of them myself. you're the only one ive seen in weeks.' Rokk shrugged half heartedly, not mentioning that this was mostly through choice, that he wanted to be on his own, until such a time that he felt he had done something that they might approve of, wouldnt look down their noses at him for. as usual. except, Chalos had not looked down his nose at Rokk lately, no, he had appointed him a proud position, at his age too. and Rokk was determined to prove himself worthy of it. the upcoming war was obviously, the perfect chance. except it was more difficult for Rokk than most knew.

Rokk's ears perked, he had not talked to any varg about the upcoming war, not since he had told Chalos of his past with the Balkar, and Chalos had told him of his decision. Rokk's eyes became distant for a second. that conversation had taken place deep in the pack dens, deep within them in Chalos' chamber, with the strange and mystic wall paintings that had confused Rokk, but at the time he had been determined not to show much interest in them. for the sake of his own stubbornness and determination to prove, whatever he had wanted to prove at the time. not that he remembered what that had been now though.

unaware that eh had been silent for more than was normal in a conversation, for Rokk's social skills left alot to be desired, he sighed wearily, and his brown orbs switched to Ingo.

'the war, is coming. sooner or later, it will arrive, and it will be a great test for us all...' Rokk's maw remained open, as if he wanted to say more. what he almost wnated to add was, "especially me" but something held him back. 'yes, the Balkar are a brutal pack.' Rokk added, a grim smile taking palce upon his features. that would be his greates test, not the fighting, for Rokk had had his fair share of that, not recently however. but the mental side of it. the Balkar chased him in his dreams, and he wanted, longed to face up to them. he only hoped he had the strength and the courage to do so in this war. he couldnt let his pack down. this was all because of him and his stupidity, he was stupid enough to get caught, and now Deor was going to war. lives would be lost because of him. Rokk sighed again. he showed no sign of disappointment or disapproval in his expression, although Rokk could not read that Ingo might be fearing this.

'we will have GeRad by our side, they are a pack of numerous vargs. we have a chance.' Rokk cast a sidelong look at Ingo. 'you are a true varg ingo, the blood of the putnar runs through you. some vargs dont wish to fight, others feel they are born to. the Balkar are as such. they are fighters, but they have no soul. if you believe in Tor and Fenris, then maybe they will protect you. if such is your belief.' Rokk shrugged. 'i am wary of only one God, and for only one reason.' Rokk shifted his paws slightly. of all the Deor vargs, when he had first met Ingo, he had thought he wasnt so bad. Ingo had never seemed to distrust him or hate him. which was something Rokk was deeply grateful for. maybe, in the war, they could fight side by side. for facing up to the Balkar feeling that he was alone, might not be something Rokk would be able to do.