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Omara didn't seem to
hear him, and John wondered if perhaps he should say something else,
but after a few moments the wolf began her speech, it sounded rehearsed
almost, or though she'd been thinking about it for a while. How long
had the old bitch been waiting here for him? The morning was still
warming, and he could see it harried her leg. An injury from the past,
or simply arthritis? Either way, he felt sorry for the pack leader, for
the burden of responsibility she bore, and the hardships an aged body
were now bringing to her. It was hard to make out at first what she was
saying, but the youth angled his head down and listened respectfully,
decyphering what he could from the simple yet intricate utterances and
intonations which fitted together with the body to create this animal
language. It had never been an easy task for him, learning Lupine, but
he persued the goal with a dogged determination, and enough
intelligence at least to infer meaning from what he didn't understand
in detail.
The wolf was confiding in him, it seemed. She was old, she was weary, and she could tell him this and drop her guise because he was not a member of the Tharadra'al, and where she would have to maintain a pretense of stoicism and solidarity to her subordinates, John was an outlier, a rogue meteor in the wolverine galaxy, there was no great need to hide anything. After her confession, she looked at him, and the human raised his eyes from the ground where they had lingered in polite harbour, something told him to do so. Such clear eyes, purity in them, and grief, he wanted to look away, to escape the concentration they focused on his own, pulse quickening. John had to keep his breathing normal with a conscious effort, and held her gaze as she was bidding him to with her manner, though it was a struggle to meet such soulful eyes, to test worthy under the stare of a wolf.
Yet as Omara continued, he became aware that it was easier to tell what she was saying, more intuitive and natural almost. It was as though a clasp had been placed about his mind, a funnel set in place for the Lupine words, directing them, organizing the language in transit. A grip, a mental grip it felt like. Was this empathy?
And so she spoke of Aranok, and his... Not so much anguish, or torment, but his shell, the mettle he sustained, the ruthless armour he wore. Hatred, a base and primitive emotion, it was quick to flare and easy to use, to bend into a spearhead or hammer into a sword, to launch at your enemy; and to tuck around oneself in a forbidding shrowd, impenetrable, impermeable. And so the young human gained this insight into the wolf who had savaged his wrist, and he felt the recent wound with his left hand. No doubt, humans had sown the seed of Aranok's hatred, they were good at that.
She alpha spoke as well of, tales? Stories or folktales, he interpreted, of men, or indeed women, who had done in the past what he was attempting now. Who had finalized their comprehension of the wolves' language, had extended it yet further into an understanding of their culture, their wisdom. Stories of people who had achieved everything he was trying to achieve, and it gave John hope; if they could do it, then he could too. Although, she was certainly right about worrying what other, less benevolent humans might think of such a venture.
When Omara concluded, and broke their eye contact, pensive and almost apologetic, the young man took a moment to let her words sink in, and then began in halting Lupine. "Don't apologize," phew, that was the easy bit, now came the trickier stuff, "I'm sad Aranok hates humans, he hurts. Also sad, you are old, struggling." John's brow furrowed a little and he lowered his eyes again with the effort of talking, but slowly he was improving, and necessity was a good teacher. He would have to speak this language, and do it well, for it was the only one his aged friend spoke. "You stay here, if ever you need. Welcome," he resumed, lifting his gaze to the wolf again and bobbing his head a little, "And teach, perhaps, this man, of wolves? Like in stories, like in past. I try understand." It was pieced together rather shabbily, but well enough he warranted that the old female could understand him. Perhaps with the arrival of Sybrix's cubs, and their development in talking, he would be pulled along in the eddie current and pick up the wolfen tongue more competently. The day was drawing on, but it was still early, mid morning, he had ample time to get his foraging done. Omara had sought him out to talk to him specifically, and the young man would enjoy the opportunity.
-John
The wolf was confiding in him, it seemed. She was old, she was weary, and she could tell him this and drop her guise because he was not a member of the Tharadra'al, and where she would have to maintain a pretense of stoicism and solidarity to her subordinates, John was an outlier, a rogue meteor in the wolverine galaxy, there was no great need to hide anything. After her confession, she looked at him, and the human raised his eyes from the ground where they had lingered in polite harbour, something told him to do so. Such clear eyes, purity in them, and grief, he wanted to look away, to escape the concentration they focused on his own, pulse quickening. John had to keep his breathing normal with a conscious effort, and held her gaze as she was bidding him to with her manner, though it was a struggle to meet such soulful eyes, to test worthy under the stare of a wolf.
Yet as Omara continued, he became aware that it was easier to tell what she was saying, more intuitive and natural almost. It was as though a clasp had been placed about his mind, a funnel set in place for the Lupine words, directing them, organizing the language in transit. A grip, a mental grip it felt like. Was this empathy?
And so she spoke of Aranok, and his... Not so much anguish, or torment, but his shell, the mettle he sustained, the ruthless armour he wore. Hatred, a base and primitive emotion, it was quick to flare and easy to use, to bend into a spearhead or hammer into a sword, to launch at your enemy; and to tuck around oneself in a forbidding shrowd, impenetrable, impermeable. And so the young human gained this insight into the wolf who had savaged his wrist, and he felt the recent wound with his left hand. No doubt, humans had sown the seed of Aranok's hatred, they were good at that.
She alpha spoke as well of, tales? Stories or folktales, he interpreted, of men, or indeed women, who had done in the past what he was attempting now. Who had finalized their comprehension of the wolves' language, had extended it yet further into an understanding of their culture, their wisdom. Stories of people who had achieved everything he was trying to achieve, and it gave John hope; if they could do it, then he could too. Although, she was certainly right about worrying what other, less benevolent humans might think of such a venture.
When Omara concluded, and broke their eye contact, pensive and almost apologetic, the young man took a moment to let her words sink in, and then began in halting Lupine. "Don't apologize," phew, that was the easy bit, now came the trickier stuff, "I'm sad Aranok hates humans, he hurts. Also sad, you are old, struggling." John's brow furrowed a little and he lowered his eyes again with the effort of talking, but slowly he was improving, and necessity was a good teacher. He would have to speak this language, and do it well, for it was the only one his aged friend spoke. "You stay here, if ever you need. Welcome," he resumed, lifting his gaze to the wolf again and bobbing his head a little, "And teach, perhaps, this man, of wolves? Like in stories, like in past. I try understand." It was pieced together rather shabbily, but well enough he warranted that the old female could understand him. Perhaps with the arrival of Sybrix's cubs, and their development in talking, he would be pulled along in the eddie current and pick up the wolfen tongue more competently. The day was drawing on, but it was still early, mid morning, he had ample time to get his foraging done. Omara had sought him out to talk to him specifically, and the young man would enjoy the opportunity.
-John
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