TheHourOfTheWolfWolfseye rarely slept - its Weir inhabitants nocturnal by nature. So when Malachi turned onto the final street in his journey home, it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary to discover a circle of drunken revelers howling and yelling outside his apartment. What was surprising, perhaps was that they were gathered around a pair of wolves - one he did not recognize, the other he recognized all too well. Radolf. Hackles up and teeth bared, the animals were circling one another, sizing each other over. The crowd of men, women, and wolves were urging the pair on - delighting in the tense stand-off. They could smell blood in the air and were eager to see it spilled. Malachi immediately pushes through the circle, approaching the two wolves with slow and deliberate movements. He speaks calmly, but loudly. "This wolf is my brother. Who speaks for the other wolf?" A ruggishly handsome Weir - easily distinguished by his golden eyes - turned away from the fight to regard Malachi. Despite his tired features, the man had the presence of an Alpha. “I am Bigby. I speak for Garthr,” the man rumbled. “If you are Radolf's brother, join me.” He gave a low growl and the other Weir made room for Malachi to pass. “Your brother claims rights to one of our sisters,” the Alpha explained. “This one took offense to a Pure claiming Mating Rights. "You are Malachi, yes?” "I am." “Do you believe you can convince your brother to stand down?” Bigby asked. “I’d rather not see him hurt. Garthr is long in the tooth and will not stop until one of them is dead.” "Radulf will make his own decisions. I will stand by them." Malachi wants to stop the fight, but he knows that weakness now would be deadly. Does he sense that Radulf is at all fearful? "Why object to a Pure? Isn't it important to keep the strength of the wolf in the bloodlines?" “Garthr’s has made prior claim to Totra - the woman in question,” Bigby explained. “However, she chose your brother. Garthr comes from a strong clan, so this is a challenge to his family’s honor. He will not allow a clanless - Pure or no - to take what he believes is rightfully his.” As if to confirm this, Garthr rushed at Radolf with a deafening growl. Radolf nimbly dodged out of the way. Crowd’s laughter transformed into startled cries as the huge wolf bowled into their legs - unable to stop his momentum. As he struggled to get up, Radolf leapt forward and sank his teeth deeply into Garthr’s rear leg. Blood flowed. But before the Weir could respond, Radolf sprang away and resumed a defensive posture. Malachi stilled the desire to leap in and help. This was a fight for honor, and he knew his place was to watch. "Garthr's honor. How far will he go to protect it? What sort of Weir is he?" “Too far,” Bigby replied, folding his arms. Garthr’s wounds were already healing - but his rage continued to be a detriment. A detriment Radolf took advantage of. Every time the Weir leapt at his opponent, the wolf had already shifted position - its teeth nipping and tearing into his opponent’s flanks. The crowd roared and howled excitedly; more supporters taking up Radolf’s cause. Bigby’s brow furrowed as he watched. The battle was a grisly affair, Garthr regenerating too rapidly for Radolf to make progress. And finally, the large Weir connected with his teeth, opening up a nasty wound on the wolf’s muzzle. In that moment, the struggle appeared to be turning against Malachi’s brother. Until the wily wolf slipped under Gathr’s guard and clamp down on his rear leg… and twisted violently. A sickening crack filled the courtyard - followed by a howl of agony. Garthr collapsed and Radolf leapt on him, teeth sinking into his neck. Garthr fought to kick him off, while the wolf held on. But he simply could not do enough damage - the Weir healing even as he was being throated. “Enough!” Bigby growled. All sound ceased - all eyes turning toward Bigby and Malachi. The combatants grew very still. “Will you accept my brother’s surrender?” Bigby asked. "Honor is satisfied," said Malachi. "I will accept the surrender. But it is the victor who must accept, not I. That is Radolf. He will do as he wills and I will be at his back." Bigby nodded and then stepped toward the combatants, “This Proving belongs to the Pure Breed.” Protests and cheers erupted, only to be quickly silenced. “Radolf, Brother of Malachi, will you accept this judgment.” Radolf glanced at Malachi for a moment - confirming his companion’s approval. Finally, he released the fallen Weir and backed up. The Weir immediately leapt to his feet, hackles rising. For an instant, the creature appeared ready to resume the fight. But a menacing growl from Bigby quashed this rebelliousness immediately. The crowd began to break up and the humbled Weir slunk off into their midst. Radolf limped over to Malachi, bumping his head against the young man’s elbow in greeting. His fur stank of blood and spit. Bigby returned, “Well fought. His wounds are not too severe, I hope?” "Marks of honor," said Malachi with something between pride and concern. "He'll survive and the ladies will love it." He patted the shaggy wolf's pelt, avoiding the injured head. "I'll go get him cleaned up in a moment. You were fair, Bigby. My respects to you. Will Garthr also follow the law, do you think? To some, an honorable defeat is a thing that cannot be borne. He is one of those, I think." Radolf beamed with pride, offering a happy chuff. But that became a worried whine when Malachi asked his question. His golden eyes drifted between the men. Bigby bowed his head, “Oh, he shall obey the Law, I believe. Ignoring the Mother’s judgment will bring him greater shame than losing to your brother. But, if he mistreats you in any fashion, inform me. I shall make certain he does not repeat his foolishness.” He looked down at Radolf, “I hope your introduction into Clan Sharakai will be a fruitful one.” The wolf barked in agreement and thanks. Bigby offered his hand to Malachi, “My thanks and well met, Brother.” "Come on, Radolf," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up." They then returned to the small apartment Malachi rented and did just that. From the old woman down the block Malachi bought a strong-smelling ointment to stop infection and spread it on Radolf's muzzle. "Now don't go licking that off. She said it tastes worse than it smells for just that reason. I can't exactly bandage your big old snout, so just let it sit there." Radolf gave a riotous serious of sneezes - appearing most displeased with this indignation. Finally, he relented into prideful moping. He ruffled the big wolf's fur. "Got yourself a lady friend, did you boy? Well good for you! One of us should be lucky in love, at least." The wolf chuffed again, thumping his heavy tail. Malachi didn't feel particularly tired. He had always been able to go for days without sleep if he wanted. But he was loathe to leave his wounded friend alone. He lay back against the wolf's broad side and dozed while the wolf slept. As he dozed, Malachi had a half-dream image of a raven on his windowsill - framed in moonlight. It stared at him with a wolf’s eyes - golden and fiery. When he tried to focus on the image, the dream-bird had gone, leaving him and his snoring companion to find some form of peace in the dark. |
