Kisten

[Kisten]

My name is Kisten, and… I never really thought much about my life, who I was, what I was going to be, where I was going, what I had done. It wasn’t important. The basics were there. I was Varg, Dragga. Dark and light chocolate brown fur, fading into creams and flecks of white on my chest and belly, tail tip speckled with the same cream. One of my paws has cream and white toes, front left. Thick fur too, thicker then most in my pack. Long legs, and slightly bigger ears. I’m sure I would look a little funny if it wasn’t for the fluff evening it all out. Almost two season cycles had passed since my birth. And that was really all there was to me. Other then what I could see in the water, that’s all I really though about. At least until I left, and the moment I locked eyes with her. That moment was the one I really stopped to think. Which was stupid. I was in the presence of a strange Varg, and on what could very well be her land. All I knew is it didn’t belong to the pack I had left.

What in the name of Fenris had compelled me to leave with out knowing anything of the land around me and what was who’s?

Well the answer to that starts well before I was born.

The varg who I call my Grandmother is my Grandmother. The varg I call my Grandfather is not really my Grandfather. My pack is different in their beliefs, and strict. They don’t like outside blood coming in thinning their lines, any outsider brought into the pack is chosen carefully. They are pompous inbreeds if you ask me. But the pack is large and strong, and it works. We differ in other ways too. Leadership. The Dragga is more like a king. The leadership being passed from father to son, the female mates being chosen for them. Females are looked down upon, the Drappa is lower in the pack then the male Siklas.

Being chosen for your mate, who thinks he is the Gods gift to Varg, living in a pack where females are about as important as dirt, is it any wonder the Dragga’s mate chose another male? One who cared, one who thought something of her? He very well could have honestly loved her for all any one knows. Not that any one will talk about him. Most didn’t know what happened until a generation later, when I came into the world. Those who do know of him will tell you he was nothing special, or memorable. Just a demon sent to test the faith and commitment the queen had for her pack, and her mate. She failed. She should have been killed. But the blessed king took pity on her. Said it is not all her fault but the packs fault, they need to strive to further strengthen themselves to keep this from happening again.

But that’s all just a load of crap. The truth is he was a great wolf. Gentle, kind caring, and more powerful then any wolf in our pack will every be. He was Dragga, not just in gender but in rank. His pack he started himself. Not one that was passed to him lazily. He was a great Dragga, but the loss of his mate was more then he could take. He left his pack to wander. He hadn’t intended to take the Dragga’s mate. It was her who approached him and convinced him to stick around. His intentions were to just pass through.

Why our Dragga spared his Drappa and her pup is unknown really. He probably truly cared for her, or he would have killed her himself. He probably wanted to kill the child, but couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him. She was that important to him.

They thought it would be okay. That they could just pass the child off as that of the Dragga’s. No one would have known if not for me.

Our pack is very alike in its looks. Our coats are earthy browns and creams. Few of us being almost dark enough to be black, but never lighter then a dark cream. Our eyes are warm colors. Yellows and Golds, bordering on orange and red.

He, the Kerl Dragga, could have fit in as my real Grandfather. His coat was black with dark rust colored markings, but the big difference was his brilliant Emerald eyes. Eyes that got passed to me.

Hard to believe it was a small bit of green that brought the nasty truth out into the open. But that’s how life works I guess.

So I’m the Grandson of the Dragga, my father is the only living male born from his mate to date, and so far I’m the only child of my father. That technically puts me in line to become Dragga. My father and I should be treated like kings right.

Wrong.

My father was treated a bit roughly, but he was a bad tempered, short fused ass. He always caused problems which just made everyone dislike him more. After a time he took off. Left the pack, leaving me behind.

I was treated much worse. The females ranked higher then I did. The grandson of a disloyal Drappa. The son of a no good for nothing, bad tempered grouch. Their future Dragga or not, I wasn’t respected. As a pup I never knew why. I was rarely protected form the abuse. But I realized later they were trying to break me, and for a while it worked. I was broken, and scared, wasn’t even treated well by most of the pups they put in my care. Which seemed weird. Why put the least liked wolf on puppy duty? A varg who was still just a pup himself in many ways. But I guess it didn’t matter, oddly enough, I enjoyed taking care of them. The worst part though, is that many of the pack had no idea why they were allowed to do the sorts of thing they could, they just did them. My Grandmother, when she wasn’t sick and dieing would comfort me. My father would some times come to my rescue, but I think he resented me for reminding every one what had happened. His treatment became worse after I was born.

That didn’t stop him from telling me what happened and what he planned to do though. It was his departure that put the idea in my head that I too could leave.

Between my Father and my Grandmother I got the whole truth. I was happy to know I wasn’t who I thought I was. I took comfort in it, and it helped me through the torture. Somehow knowing why it was happening made it hurt less.

But with my father gone, and my grandmother dieing, there was little to stop them from taking it further. And the night my grandmother passed, I didn’t even take the time to mourn. I knew that if I didn’t get out with the pack preoccupied they would never let me leave. My father fought his way out of the lands. Taking out any warrior who came after him and any scout who found him along the way.

I wasn’t that strong. Not then. I had to take the cowards way out, but I don’t regret the decision in the least. I knew I was better then that. Better then them. I was the Grandson of a great Dragga, and it wasn’t the pompous ass I grew up thinking it was. I had a destination, though I wasn’t entirely sure where it was. I wanted to see the land he lived in, see if I could find the pack he founded, even if I wouldn’t inherit it like my old one. I didn’t even expect to join it. But just to see it…!



And that search lead me to where I was then, reflecting on my life. Once again taking strength in the thought of him, the Grandfather I knew so little about. But I wasn’t the weakling I was back in the pack. On my own I ate better, did more, built up more muscle and strength, and no matter what happened, I could live through anything.

I didn’t need to be ready for a fight though. She had no claim to the land and qualms with me.

She helped me actually, she helped me so much! Took care of me. Introduced me to another who traveled with her. The other was my age, and we became friends quickly. I had never had a real friend before and soon the relationship became more. We became like brothers, doing stupid puppy like things, getting into trouble and then finding a way out of it. I had no idea life could feel that good.

But most of all she helped me realize who I was. I wasn’t the meek little thing who let others beat on me, and push me around. I wasn’t the scared wanderer who was ready to fight, ready to die for stupid reasons. And I wasn’t sour or bitter like my father. I liked others, cared for them. I never really hated those in my pack, just the way they made me feel and the things they did. When I really thought about it, I loved the puppies they made me take care of. Nursing them. Risking my own wellbeing to get them what they needed so they could survive.

When I learned to stop focusing on all the bad things that happened I could really see the good in my pack, in anyone. Just the overall feeling, the peace and calm was so much easier to live with.

For the first time in my life, I knew exactly who I was, what I wanted to do.

That’s when she left us. I don’t know why she left or when. My brother and I just fell asleep and when we woke she was gone. I’m not sure it really happened, but I want to remember her telling us as we were falling asleep that we were ready to be on our own. Whether we chose to stay together or split up. That we didn’t need her care any more, she taught us all she could.

It was hard losing her like that. But she was right. We were who we were to be, and we were on our way to where we needed to be.

We stayed together. Oddly enough we where headed to the same place. And that’s where we are now. The end of one journey has left us at the start of a new one. If we can stay together for this one or not I don’t know yet. I hate the thought of leaving my brother, but if my path is no longer the same as his, that’s just how it has to be.

So here I am now. Three seasons later. Much the same but very different. Tristen, my brother is with me now, but for how long we do not know. We will know if or when the times comes for us to part. Until then, we are brothers wandering.