Ghosts in the Water [Tagged]

[Pride]

Cascade

To Pathogen, standing in former Honovi territory was like standing in the wake of a once great fire. Strange to think that a pack that had once been so strong now left behind only ashes.

The young wolf dug her claws into the soil, her fiery eyes narrowed in concentration. She tried in vain to feel the faintest trace of the wolves who once ruled this land, but there was nothing. No scents, no voices— no sign that they had ever been there aside from faint claw marks that had been scorn into the hard earth. The only sound aside from her own breathing was the water lapping hungrily at the shoreline. She sighed, bowing her head to gaze into the pool's surface.

Ever since she was a pup, Pathogen had been curious about Honovi. Her mother used to tell stories of the once legendary pack that ruled the territory to the North, and she could still hear the pain in Perjury's voice when she spoke of its leader, Treason. From what she knew, the two were kin, and quite close friends on top of that. Pathogen used to lie awake in her den at night, wondering what could have happened to the former Alpha. In her youth, her imagination would run wild with the idea, conjuring all sorts of bizarre stories to explain Treason's abrupt disappearance. Perhaps she had been taken by the Mountain, or perhaps the stress of leading her frayed pack had driven her from the forest. She used to fantasize that she would go on some great journey one day and seek out the fallen leader. Of course, she didn't lend credence to such whimsical ideas now. Now that she was older, she knew the Treason had likely died as a result of her grievous injuries, and that her body had simply never been found.

She looked out across the oasis pool, where the water turned from blue to black. Who knew, maybe she was standing only a few paw-steps away from Treason's bones, cold and alone just beneath the lake's surface. Did the spirit of the old Alpha still watch over the shattered remains of her pack, weeping over its destruction? Or was she still out there somewhere, beyond even her mother's perception, wandering the wilds like an exile? Pathogen shook her head clear of the questions, tilting her head skyward. The breeze carried the scent of a rogue, and for a moment the fur down her spine rippled only to lie flat again. The scent was faint, she realized, and the wolf was too far away to be of any real trouble.
Now that this territory was no longer controlled by a pack, it meant that loners were free to roam it as they pleased. For the most part, they were harmless wolves who simply hadn't found a pack to call their own. Maybe one out of ten was genuinely dangerous, and even then, she doubted that one would feel such a fierce need to prove themselves that they would test their mettle against a pup. Still, Pathogen respected the power a loner might possess. She was too young to adequately defend herself, and not quite brash enough to try it against a wolf twice her size. She would be a strong enough one day to hold her own, but for now, the most rational option if confronted by an aggressive stranger was to run.

Oh, how she hated that idea. Running.
Her lips pulled back at the thought, pale teeth glittering with saliva. Pathogen had once promised her mother that she would never act out of blind arrogance, but she couldn't deny that the idea of surrender made her blood froth. Moving backwards simply wasn't in her nature. How could it have been when all she had felt since birth was the frenzied need to move forward? The force of it had struck her so painfully that she feared the savageness of her own desire to rise at times. Somewhere, deep in her bones, she knew it would be the death of her one day. Her inner fire would consume her until there was nothing left but cinders; the willing victim of her own tenacity. In an attempt to reconcile her feelings, she figured that there were worse things to be brought down by. She could simply vanish, as Treason once had. Or she could have simply burned more faintly, and languish in a long and meaningless life until it finally dragged itself out.
The latter option made the edge of he mouth quirk into a frown. Surely there was no worse fate than to be born with no drive, no ambition. The concept was inconceivable to Pathogen, who had known the lure of advancement ever since she was old enough to open her eyes. It seemed like such a dry, hollow life to lead— though she had once heard someone say that it was simply called being at peace with oneself. If that was truly was inner tranquility meant, then she doubted that she would ever know it.

[Cascade]

In spite of it all, it was a lovely day. The summer sun had coaxed the flowering shrubs out of their slumber, speckling the bluffs with yellow and lavender. Ashling wished that her family was there to see it. As she slowly stepped over stones and spiky ground plants, she searched her memory for the exact moment where it had all gone wrong. Truthfully, there had been many nails in the Honovi's coffin—no single event would have been insurmountable for the historic pack in a vacuum, but fate had given them no respite. One by one, each new misfortune had chipped away at them, relentless. An inexhaustible chain of chaos that had weakened the Honovi until it was like an empty skin, blown to pieces in a breeze.

It wasn't in her nature to be so beaten down by circumstance, but Ashling couldn't help but be bitter. She knew the world didn't owe anyone fairness, but this was far too much. Her father's disappearance, her mighty alphess being cut down in a freak bear attack and the usurper who tried to steal her position in its aftermath. Where was Treason now? Where was her father? Her mother? What was it all for? The pup came to the edge of the oasis, peering down into its now-murky waters. The sun beat down overhead, but she felt cold inside.

Father was the first to go. It wasn't about the Honovi really, at least she thought not. Who knew, when he hadn't bothered to give a reason for it? What a strange thing, to be so new to life, to not even know anything beyond her mother's belly, and waking up one morning to see that half her "world" had gone. Her parents were of no special rank or importance to the pack at the peak of its greatness. His leaving would have barely been a blip on their radar, and soon enough the enormity of the event would fade in her own mind as well. She wouldn't spare any more tears for cowards.

Treason's disappearance was different. She did not expect it to ever sit well with her. She knew the bear had inflicted major injuries on the alphess, but they had seemed to be healing. She'd turned a corner, and it had only just begun to look like she would fully recover when she left to visit the Frigid Plague, what would turn out to be her final visit. She never returned. It seemed wrong to think her dead—no body had ever been found, after all. Officially, she was just missing. But the pit in her stomach reminded her that a wolf like Treason wouldn't just up and leave without a word. She was not a coward. Ashling had idolized the alphess—thought her indestructible. This new reality in which her idols were mortal was so unwelcome to her, like a cold reminder that her own death loomed in the inevitable future. This feeling...was this what growing up was?

The snap of a twig stirred Ashling from her thoughts. Instinctively, she thought 'intruder', then she felt foolish as she remembered that there could be no such thing any longer. Looking up, she noticed that it was a pup around her age, and one who appeared to be just as contemplative as she. 'What are you doing here?' she thought to ask. Then again, what could she say for herself? The Honovi was gone. Everyone she'd ever known was dead or vanished. What was she still doing here?

Ashling stood wordlessly on the opposite bank of the small oasis. Unable to meet her gaze, she looked down at the pup's reflection, which rippled in the slight breeze. She looked powerful. At least, as powerful as one could be at their age. She would grow into a strong wolf. Ashling wondered what she would grow into, or if she would grow up at all. The care of others was the only thing she'd ever known...she'd kept starvation at bay, but would she make it to winter? The pup across the water had the build of a wolf who knew when her next meal was coming. Try as she might, Ashling could not remember what that felt like.

[Pride]

Pathogen was shaken from her thoughts when a shape appeared across the dark surface of the pool. She lurched back, scrambling to her paws. The figure in the water didn’t move. The young wolf lifted her head, eyes wild, searching the opposite shore for an intruder. Surely, she hadn’t been so oblivious that she had failed to notice another wolf in the area? It didn’t seem possible. She had checked for others when she first came to the lake, and had found nothing.
Yet, just across the length of the pond, another pup sat in the sand.

Pathogen made a face at her own ineptitude, studying the stranger that had been so apparently sharing her silence. As she raised her head, she realized that she could smell the other wolf now. Dirt and fur and desperation, just noticeable over the overwhelming fragrance of wildflowers. It was a she wolf, roughly her age judging by her size. As she looked closer, she realized that the stranger’s fur was matted and unkempt, and that her ribs were pressing against her skin.

It didn’t take her long to realize that this pup must have been an orphan. Possibly even a young Honovi whose parents had abandoned her as the pack began to decay. The thought filled Pathogen with a sudden, grim knowing. At this age, being abandoned meant almost certain death for a young wolf. Spring had clearly not treated the youth kindly, but autumn and winter would be even less merciful. If she carried on like this, the cold would sink its teeth so deeply into that thin coat that this pup was sure to die by the time the first frost fell.

The death of the young was such a waste.
Pathogen knew that she should leave and forget what she saw. The valley had no room for the weak, after all, and surely this pup would be neither the first nor the last to be lain to waste by the unwavering laws of survival. But, when she tired to move her paws, she found them frozen in place. She cringed inwardly, baring her teeth. Being born Frigid Plague might mean that she was deigned evil by the rigid moral compasses of the other wolves in the valley, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave a perfectly good life to perish. It made her pelt itch.

With a deep sigh, she began to make her way around the expanse of water. This was such a pointless, stupid endeavor. Pathogen could already hear the scolding of her litter mates, jeering at her for helping a stray. Of course, they wouldn’t understand. Most of them clearly didn’t have an issue with wasting potential in the first place, so how could they? In that area, she had always been at harsh odds with her siblings. For Pathogen, the idea of perfectly good muscle turning to soft mush on the forest floor felt like slime beneath her skin.

Who was to say what this pup might grow into? Perhaps she would be a fine huntress, or an excellent fighter. She could even one day climb the high mountain and ask for a power, only to go on and change the valley forever. Or, she could grow to be mundane and perish without making a single ripple across the world. Either way, she would never have the opportunity if she never managed to reach even her first year. And, while Pathogen did not consider herself bound by concepts such as honor or compassion, she did understand what it meant to needlessly waste a thing. If she left this young wolf to her fate, her life would have been a question screamed into the void only to fade away, unanswered. An unacceptable outcome.

She found her way to the pup, sitting heavily in the sand just beside her. The reek of ungroomed fur made her lips start to curl, but with a massive effort, she managed to keep her face schooled into an impassive mask. When she spoke, she did it without looking at her.

“My name is Pathogen, of Frigid Plague. You are former Honovi, are you not?”

[Cascade]

It looked like the other pup didn't know what to make of her, either. Ashling wondered what she looked like, what state she was in, but couldn't bring herself to look down at her own reflection. Every breath she took ached, her lungs sticky with phlegm...that told her enough about the sorry sight she was. The other pup's pitying look burned her skin and made her itch. The shame of falling far short of her potential was so much worse with an audience.

The stranger approached and revealed that she was of the Frigid Plague. Ashling stifled a chuckle. So...reinforcements had finally arrived. The young pup—barely her age, a roly poly lump of puppy fat—made for a fine salvation.

"You're a little late, I'm afraid," she said, shocking herself with the raspiness of her own voice, "Your ally has turned to dust." In her head it was a joke, but true bitterness snuck past her tongue.

Getting a closer look at her, Ashling noted that the pup bore a passing resemblance to Perjury, the alphess of their former confederate. The markings were too similar to be coincidence—this must be Perjury's own daughter who sat before her. Ashling didn't know whether to curtsy or spit in her face; having shouldered the guilt for so long, any opportunity to scapegoat another was positively tantalizing. But, try as she might, she couldn't lay the blame on this pup or on the Frigid Plague. It was not in her nature to blame others for failings beyond their control—what could Frigid Plague have done for the Honovi when they didn't have their alphess? How long could they have kept them alive, breathing into the neck of a goose without a head?

"I was born just in time to see the Honovi crumble into the wind," she explained matter-of-factly, "Lucky me. My name's Ashling, if it matters."

The grey pup's stomach groaned audibly, and she cursed her own body under her breath. She didn't have much of a chance, if she was being honest with herself. It burned her to her core that this would probably be the last impression she ever made.

"I'm the only one left, at least the only one who bothered to stick around." She struggled for what to say. These could be her last words. "Tell your mother it's not her fault. I'm right that she's your mother, aren't I? Treason loved her to the end. It was a good life, while it lasted."