“It itches.” She complained of the angry red patch on her left shoulder blade. Under the irritation was a fresh tattoo. Dark ink was injected into her flesh in the shape of a runic symbol only a few would understand. It was the mark of a god of a culture none in the wider galaxy cared about and had nearly been erased from history entirely. The same symbol had been on a charm given to the girl by her mother. It was the only thing she had left of the woman. That and a legacy she had been wholly unaware of until it cost her everything.
Her father. Her home. Her freedom. All lost because of who her mother was, what her mother was, what she was.
The same mark was found on his own flesh. The two of them shared a god and shared a legacy. They were both Lupo. A species of near-human who changed form and become wolves. Originally from the planet Islimore, Lupo were either slaughtered or driven from their homes en masse by a group of xenophobic religious zealots known as The Fayth.
“Did that hurt?” He asked and was subjected to an eye roll so large he was impressed that her head stayed on her shoulders followed by a look that made it very clear that she thought both he and his question were beyond dumb.
“Yes.” She responded irritated.
“Don’t waste the pain, Becks. If you don’t leave it alone it is going to get karked up. Is that what you want?” He asked with more patience than he knew he was capable of having
“No.” She said somehow letting him know he had outdone himself when it came to asking stupid questions.
V́atyn’s light why would anyone want daughters?
“You need to keep your mind off of it. Have you read any of the stories?”
Becks or Bec’irah as was her proper name was one of the many Wolves born away from Islimore. Away from its history, its traditions, its legends. All the things that inform a Lupo what it meant to be Wolf. Her father was just a man and he mother died giving her life and so for fourteen years, the girl knew nothing of her home and her people. Declan on the other hand had grown up the son of the Alpha of Clan Kanaka one of the most powerful clans of Lupo on all of Islimore. He had spent seventeen years learning and loving many of his kind’s history and stories, so after Bec’irah’s arrival on Evaria, the place Declan also found himself, she was finally able to learn what she was. He meant for her to learn who she was as well. It had taken over a month but Declan had written every story, every legend, and every song he knew into a leatherbound book and gifted it to Becks.
“Yes.” She said reaching for her shoulder and stopping at a glare from Declan. “Yes, I really like them Declan. I already told you.”
She had most certainly not already told him but hearing her say it now was just as good.
“I’m glad.” He was glad. Glad that she liked the book and glad that she liked him. It had been so long since he had been around any other Lupo that even a petulant, sassy, traumatized teenager who was only learning about these things from him, was enough to make him feel more at home than he had in almost twenty years.
“Deck?” She asked.
“Becks?” He said turning to give her his full attention. He was struck by how different she looked from the morning he met her. She had been bruised, beaten, and terrified. She was so skinny that she shook as much from fear as she did from hunger. She should be much taller. He thought. Now, however, only half a year later she must weigh fifty percent more than when she had arrived, having picked up hunting rather quickly when Declan had showed her how. Rabbits were a particular favorite of hers. Her honey hair was no longer matted and falling out. It was thick as actual honey and coming well past her shoulders now.
“Can you tell me about Rænör & Cérmæ?” She asked. The story was a favorite of Declan’s mother. She told that one to him and his brothers more than any other. It was the story of well yes, Rænör & Cérmæ and how they came to fall in love. Declan had gotten the story tattooed down his arm and he was certain it was the first story he had told Becks.
“Again?”
“Well no. What I mean is I have a question. Why did Cérmæ choose to take Rænör as a mate? He didn’t actually kill Saer. He lost right? And if Rænör is so great at hunting why didn’t he kill Saer? He could’ve couldn’t he?”
Declan cleared his throat. He had not been anticipating her to have such an academic thirst.
“Well, that story is a beautiful one it is.” He began. “First, she chose Rænör because she loved him. She loved him long before she sent him out for Saer but she had to know what was truly in his heart. The story is a lesson. It is meant to show that yes we Lupo should be like Rænör. We should revel in the hunt and enjoy it because it is how we survive. It also shows we should be determined, for all his failures Rænör did not quit. It shows we should be willing to be creative and think outside the box for solutions. If you remember it was no weapon that won Rænör his glory but his harp. It also is supposed to teach us to see the wisdom and honor in knowing when not to take a life. . Saer the Freann Fawn was one of the most innocent creatures on Islimore spilling his blood would not have brought honor to Rænör. Sparing the creature, taking him by lead, protecting him, those are the things that Cérmæ saw that opened her heart to Rænör. Having the wisdom to know when to take a life, is one of the most important things a Lupo can know. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, I think so,” she told him. “Can you teach me to kill things?”
Declan looked at her dubiously. “I’ve shown you to hunt already.”
“No. I mean like you do. Like when we look like this not wolves.” Declan knew why she was asking. Knew it had nothing to do with old stories written in a book. He did not blame her.
“Yeah. I think we can do that.”
