Negotiations

[Bowen Lark]

Romulus scratched a note in his journal, wanting to remember that for a stone fortress in the middle of a tundra, Lehvalek could be pleasantly warm. The walls separating him from the biting cold outside where thick and piped through with hot water than ran from a nearby hot spring – apparently the sole reason for the location of the keep on the Thalosi tundra. It was a cylinder of modest height, with a single great hall and a number of small rooms meant to house all who lived and worked within Lehvalek. Unlike some of the palaces Romulus had seen, the keep had been built on solid, practical lines meant to exist in the extreme climate of the tundra. The keep sat in the middle of a walled perimeter, the centre of existence for the few other clans that lived alongside the royal family. It was a trade hub, a place of refuge, and the sole marker of unity for the last fifty years, when Thren Vraenar had brought all the largest clans together and become the chieftain of them all. He had led the clans against a massive enemy warring from the south, and after emerging victorious, the clans had allowed the Vraenar family to sit as leaders for the clans forever more. His bloodline, now mixed with that of the strongest clans on the Thalosi tundra, still remained as rulers in the keep.

Romulus padded across the rug covering most of the floor in his room and paused before the lone window. He fastened the last button on his green tunic and shrugged into a heavy, richly-embroidered cloak that designated his role as ambassador. It came with a sash, but the wolf loathed most of the material accoutrements of his station, including a dagger so heavily bejewelled it was totally useless as a weapon. He wore the cloak because the weather had suddenly gotten colder, managing even to penetrate the walls of the keep and leave a heavy blanket of frost across all the windows. Romulus let out a breath and watched it crystallize, suddenly glad for the warmth of the cloak.

The assignment to the Thalosi tundra had initially been one of exploration. Romulus had been sent by a prominent guild of southern merchants interested in dealing with the clans for trade. Rare herbs found only in the utmost north could be sold for a weighty sum in the southern cities, as could the wood from league upon league of untouched forest belonging to the clans. Romulus had reported back that the Vraenar chieftain and his council of clan elders were amenable to the arrangement, provided that the trade agreement was mutually beneficial. The merchants had sent a prompt reply, and along with it, a request that Romulus remain on as an ambassador for the guild to ensure the mutual interests of both parties was maintained. He had remained at the keep for one year and three seasons while the trade route began a slow churn of progress.

This was, as the wolf understood it, a way for the north to create a stable connection to the south, and a means for Thallek Vraenar to ensure his family’s continued role in leading the clans. Romulus liked the aging wolf; for all that he was gruff and blunt-spoken, Thallek had a sincere desire to bring in all the clans that composed the tundra’s population so that all of his people would benefit from the new trade routes. He wanted to end the clan skirmishes that sometimes threatened to become wars and to align his family with the leaders of the lesser clans, people whose ancestors had fought for Thren Vraenar but had been too little in number to receive any recognition. Those clans had suffered under the martial control of several prominent clans for generations – a fact that, Romulus knew, Thallek regarded with shame at his own ignorance of. Ignoring the advisement of the council, Thallek had banished the guilty clans from their positions of authority and opened negotiations for trade with the lower clans, hoping the gesture would instigate a longer-lasting peace in the north. It was an ambitious plan, a just plan, and a dangerous plan. The banished clans had not gone without their promises of vengeance and recourse, Romulus remembered.

A tap at the door pulled the wolf from his musing. He rumbled for the knocker to come in, setting his bottle green gaze on Vyrli, one of the younger elders on Thallek’s council. Lehvalek housed so few that it was not uncommon for those in higher positions to do the work of servants or messengers. Romulus had done his share of smithing over the last year.

“Thallek is going to hold his meeting with the daughter of the Ney’Kalo tribe alphas in the early evening,” his thin voice carried across the room, but did not echo. “It is to be a welcome dinner as well as a negotiation, and he asks that you attend as a representative of the guild. Do you accept?”

“I will attend,” Romulus murmured, the clan language clipped on his tongue. He smiled at the smaller wolf. “Will there be potthack made?”

A smile darted across Vyrli’s lean muzzle. He nodded. “Malla has already begun marinating the meat in a garlic broth. She knows your appetite for it is boundless.”

Romulus bowed. “Give her my thanks.” He watched Vyrli depart, listening for the swish of the other wolf’s robes as he went down the hall. Alone again, Romulus let out a short sigh and fixed his gaze on the wide expanse of white peeling out in all directions from Lehvalek. It was a solitary, isolated existence – the tundra clans were a stoic folk at ease with long stretches of silence, so different from the boisterous households Romulus had sat in before. The assimilation into their culture had been difficult for him, but at nearly two years in residence, the wolf knew he was as comfortable as he was likely to be. At times, it was a distressing thought, especially as negotiations and plans for the trade route loomed on with no end in sight.

[Aryela Jade Secray]

Parting from the Ney'Kalo tribe was one of the hardest things Petralavi had ever had to do, short of earning her title as warrior and future Alpha through the trials. She had trained for years to win the match that would denote her as the tribe's warrior, and would also place her on higher standing over her elder brother, Mysin, who snubbed her dedication to their tribe. As eldest child, he had expected the role of leadership to fall to him upon their parents’ deaths. Petra could still recall the look of shock on his face when their father, Ahmaer, had given her the headdress of Otahera, the female guiding spirit of their tribe. Mysin had spit, hissed, sworn, and demanded that Petra relinquish the title, but of course, the only way he could regain his honor was if he defeated her in a one-on-one battle. Petra, being taller and more muscular than her brother, posed too great a threat to Mysin. Should they fight for leadership, it could very well be to the death, as was the way of the Ney'Kalo.

When the greater clans were banished, and the lesser clans acknowledged, the Ney'Kalo was seen as an abnormality. It was not big enough to cause a threat alone, but it was not so small that the tribe was unable to prosper during the fierce war. When Thren Vraenar had brought the greatest tribes together to defeat the Southern enemy, the ruler of the Ney'Kalo, Talis, had eagerly aided Thren in hopes of, not only defending the north, but also establishing a lasting relationship with the ruling family. Many Ney'Kalo warriors were killed, including Talis himself, but when the battle was won, the Ney'Kalo found favor first with Thren, and then later with Thallek. Talis' daughter, Oonah, became the Alpha of the Ney'Kalo when she was of age. She ruled for several years before taking Ahmaer, a wolf who once belonged to the Zjolan, as her mate. Together, they had Petralavi and Mysin.

Unlike many other packs, Oonah and Ahmaer allowed their followers to produce their own pups. The Ney'Kalo flourished. Their territory expanded, and soon they were able to create and collect enough items to open trading routes with some of the lesser clans. Like Thallek, and Thren before him, Oonah and Ahmaer hoped to make life more bearable for the smaller clans, who dealt in honest trade like food, clothing, herbs, and in some cases, spiritual healing.

At one time, the banished clans had tried to trade with the Ney'Kalo, but when Oonah and Ahmaer discovered that they had been more interested in selling fellow wolves into slavery, they had quickly shut down negotiations, much to the clans' chagrin. That one fateful decision had resulted in a multitude of problems for the peaceful Ney'Kalo. Trading routes were disrupted; tribemates and clanmates were both killed and stolen. It was a terrible time for the Ney'Kalo, and so it came as a great relief when Thallek asked to open trade with the Alphas.

The request had gone to Oonah and Ahmaer, but it was Petralavi who chose to go in their stead. Both of her parents were aging, and while the distance was not far, they all knew danger was afoot for anyone who went to speak with Thallek. The banished tribes were still lurking out in the tundra, waiting to attack.

A week prior to her departure, Petra had come to the solution that she would leave on the marrow and travel alone to Lehvalek. Her parents had been furious at the suggestion, but she insisted that it would be easier for a single wolf to leave instead of a whole regiment which could cause too much attention. Oonah had agreed with her daughter, but under one condition. Petra would go with a trusted friend to help protect and guide her. Petra had been offended at first since she had already passed the trials to prove herself as a warrior, but her mother could not be swayed.

Oonah sent word to the Zjolan, a neighboring clan, asking for the Alphas to send an escort, since they had expressed interest in hearing the negotiations. The Ney'Kalo tribe was close allies with the Zjolan, so after a brief discussion with the Alphas, Oonah found a way to work around Thallek's invitation, which had only been directed at the Ney'Kalo tribe. The Alphas' eldest son, Zill, would go with Petra to Lehvalek, so he too could hear the negotiations, and also act as a witness should Petra forget any of the details of what had occurred. Both Alphas knew it would be dangerous to send the children of lesser tribes to the meeting, but if they hoped to find a solution to their troubles, they would have to make sacrifices.

It was with a mixture of joy and sorrow that Petralavi agreed to have Zill accompany her. They had been childhood friends, and some even thought puphood sweethearts. Petra was overjoyed to have such a close friend with her, but she feared for his safety, as well as her own.

Three days prior, the duo had packed their bags to leave. As Petra bid her family farewell (though her brother was nowhere to be found), Oonah kissed her brow and presented her with a talisman. It was a beautiful piece of pewter in the shape of a flame, an echo of Petra's tribal marking which graced her forehead. Oonah looped the woven thread around her daughter's neck and held her cheeks between her warm paws.

"Amali," she whispered, using the tribe's word of endearment. "May the spirits of Otahera and Nezon guide you, my daughter. Let Ulana clear your path of danger so that you may return home to us."

"Mah'me," Petra sighed, pressing her muzzle to her mother's chin. "I will return, and with good news. I swear it."

Ahmaer accosted her next and handed her something wrapped in their tribe's banner. "Talis would want you to have it."

Petra unwrapped it slowly and gasped. It was her grandfather's dagger. It was a simple blade with little decor save for the blue jewel on the pommel. Petra clutched it tight to her breast then kissed her father's cheek. "Otahera be with you, father."

"And you, little Amali." When Petra moved to say goodbye to the rest of her tribe, Ahmaer pulled Zill aside and whispered to the young wolf. "I know you will do all in your power to protect my daughter, but I swear to you, should she not return as we see her, I will remove your ears and your tail." It was not the first time Ahmaer had threatened harm to Zill should something happen to Petra, but for the first time, his words were dangerously serious. He patted the wolf's back then let a small smile touch his muzzle. "Nezon be with you."

Zill and Petralavi left the Ney'Kalo after that, only to be faced with the bitter weather. A storm arose, but it did little to deter Petra from her important mission. She was an arctic wolf, borne and bred in the tundra. Her white fur was splashed with splotches of gray, a remnant of Talis' darker pelt. Her gray headfur dangled around her thin face in elegant braids. White, violet, and blue threads wove around the shimmering strands. Her pelicon, the neck, sleeves, and hem trimmed with fur, helped chase away the chill. A dagger was slung at her hip, a long sword poked above her shoulder, and a sling swung slowly at her side. She was a dangerous opponent, but that did not frighten away attackers.

During their three-day travel, Petra had had the sneaking suspicion that they were being followed, but it wasn't until the last day that their stalkers revealed themselves. On the second day, Zill and Petra awoke to find strange markings written in the snow around them. One of their packs had been emptied, and on the other were the symbols of their tribes, smeared with goat blood. The sight disturbed both wolves, especially Petra who was disgusted that their attackers had slain an innocent animal just to frighten them.

On the third day, Petra looked up in relief as Lehvalek came into view. While the last three days had not been terribly arduous, she was still bothered by the warning signs left on their packs.

"Almost there," she murmured to Zill out of the corner of her mouth, her icy, blue eyes peering through the lightly falling snow. She took a step forward then suddenly bumped into Zill, knocking them both to the ground. Two arrows landed short of hitting the wolves, a burning banner on each. Petra leaned forward and unleashed a ferocious snarl as she realized that one of the banners belonged to her tribe, while the second belonged to Zill's.

"Amackvey zon ta'von!" she growled, swearing in her tribe's language. She grabbed a flask from her pack and upended it, trying frantically to douse the flames, but the two banners were consumed before she had a chance to rescue them. The she-wolf sat beside the arrows and sent Zill a bitter look. "Twice they dare attack us. Otahera have mercy on their souls should I catch them!"

Still snarling, she stood and held out a paw to help Zill to his feet. It was quite clear that they were not welcome at Lehvalek, but when had Petralavi ever backed down at a challenge?

[Bowen Lark]

The night before he left the Zjolan, Zill took his evening meal in his parents’ tent. He helped his mother prepare a stew made from dried cattails and fish from a frozen river nearby. It was a plentiful meal – the Zjolan were as much dedicated to gathering as they were hunting – but the preparation had an air of melancholy Zill attributed to his impending departure. He had helped his mother Evalle prepare the stew a thousand times, and never had it been such a silent and sombre affair.

“It is a great honour the Ney’Kalo ask of you, Auden,” his father, Kjer, said for the sixth time that day. Zill, who rarely responded to his truename, looked up and nodded. “I know, Da. I will do all that I can to bring pride to the Zjolan in aiding Oonah and Ahmaer’s daughter.”

Evalle, crouched over the cooking fire, caught her son’s eye and smiled at him. “Her name, as you well know, is Petralavi. You two used to play hunt in the snow plains when our tribes gathered together to celebrate summer’s arrival, remember?”

“Hmm.” Zill shrugged. He folded his legs beneath him to sit between his parents and accepted a bowl of stew from Evalle. “Tomorrow will not be about play hunting or celebrating the solstice.”

Stricken by the austerity of the situation again, his parents only nodded.

888

Zill rose from his bedroll while the sun still slumbered. He stretched his spine, feeling the slow chug of blood begin to seep into his cold limbs. Again he wondered at the Ney’Kalo alphas’ decision to send one of the Zjolan with their daughter to oversee the trade negotiations. The Zjolan were no great warriors, fighting only when absolutely necessary. They had followed Thren Vraenar to war, but even on the brink of destruction the Zjolan had still mostly provided the talents for which they were best known: healing. Zill’s tribe had, for generations, produced some of the most skilled healers to ever walk the tundra. Healing was their art and their trade – his mother and father selected a percentage of the herbs gathered to be set aside for exchange with the Ney’Kalo and other tribes. They traded in marriage too: a healer from the Zjolan took in a sizeable marriage gift from tribes desiring one of Zill’s kin.

Yet Thallek had never approached the Zjolan with an offer of trade. Zill could see the logic behind the exclusion – his tribe was a lesser amongst lesser tribes, and fell far short of the prosperity the Ney’Kalo had come to know. While his parents also broke the custom that forbade wolves of lesser status to have pups, the tribe’s growing numbers only made them more accessible as healers. Unless a creature was having a troubled labour or a clan skirmish ended badly, the Zjolan were easily and readily forgotten.

And still...the Ney’Kalo remembered them. Ahmaer had been one of them once before marriage had established him as an alpha of the Ney’Kalo tribe. The marriage had strengthen the tribes’ friendship, so that Zill saw Petra almost a dozen times a year for trading and festival celebrations. And although he was not born to a warrior clan, the wolf had gone through the trials that signalled him as his parents’ rightful heir. He wore a white bone bracelet above his left elbow to signify the fact.

The wolf tied his folded bedroll to his traveling kit and hefted it over one shoulder. He had been requested to meet Petra at her clan’s settlement by dawn. At the edge of the Zjolan territory, his family waited to say their farewells.

Evalle gave him her longbow and a quiver of newly made arrows. Kjer replaced his healing satchel with one full of all the materials Zill could ever have imagined needing. His siblings, Thern, Acacia, and Rojen, painted Zill’s grey fur with symbols of luck and prosperity. He bowed before them all, whispered his love, and stole off into the night.

Just after dawn, Zill stood watching Petra and her family’s farewells with clear green eyes and a frown. He endured the threats from Ahmaer, meeting the alpha’s gaze and nodding shortly. “For this journey, her life will be above my own. I will guard her as Ushem guarded Avali.”

The days following, Zill kept near to Petra, the longbow always in one hand, a wickedly sharp, curving dagger belted near the other. The weather pricked him with cold – arctic wolf blood ran thinner in Zill’s line than in Petra’s. He took after the grey wolf, standing tall and lanky, his ears and muzzle more prominent, his fur sleeker, the blue-slate colour of water over stone. Black fur covered his muzzle and ran back over his head and down his back to the tip of his tail. Because of his sleeker fur and lithe build, Zill wore thick breeches and tunics to combat the cold, clothes that covered the clan symbols on his shoulders, chest, and hips.

Something in the air pricked worse than the cold. Zill went to bed each night with the dagger in his hand.

Their followers baffled him – the contents of the pack had been scattered but nothing had been stolen, the symbols and blood-smeared signs spoke of an offense he could not remember either tribe giving. On the last day of their journey, Zill found the sight of Lehvalek an enormous relief. He was edgy and kept scanning the snow drifts for signs of pursuers.

“I will be glad to put this trek behind us,” the wolf responded. He said nothing of the possible torments waiting them on the journey back.

In the next instant, Zill found himself rolling against the snow-covered ground. He twisted back onto his paws, gaze immediately searching out Petra for signs of distress or injury. Finding none, the wolf turned to look for what was upsetting her so, and the sight dropped him to his knees. To burn a clan banner was...almost a declaration of war. Zill scooped snow over his tribe’s banner and shook the ash from it, cradling the thing with reverence. All that his clan considered itself to be was written in the banner. Someone had stolen it. A rage so hot shot through the wolf’s body, making the cold seem like a distant memory. He rose beside Petra and glared balefully at the snow that surrounded them.

“The seers told me Otahera looks favourably upon our journey. These...interlopers...would do well to pray for her mercy. Let us proceed.”

888

Romulus was bringing a mug of tea to the gate walls when a sentry raised the cry that two beasts were approaching. He liked to take his tea outdoors, enjoying the sharp contrast of the chill to the heat from the tea. At the sentry’s call, the wolf changed his course and padded up the steps to the wall, curiosity overcoming his desire for a quiet teatime. Romulus scanned the white expanse before Lehvalek and made a sound in his chest as two shadows cut through the white haze, coming straight for the keep. In the next breath, Vyrli was beside him.

“This will be the daughter of the Ney’Kalo,” the slight wolf murmured. A frown furrowed his white-roan brow. “I do not know who accompanies her.”

Romulus lifted a brawny shoulder to shrug. “Stands to reason her parents would send along an aid, even just for protection. Word from visiting clans is that the banished have been giving their share of trouble. I would imagine this meeting sits sour with them.”

Vyrli laughed bitterly, “They won’t have as many slaves to choose from, I suppose.”

Romulus looked at the wolf and nodded once.

ooc: if you want to rp the sentry and get zill and petra into the keep, please do

[Aryela Jade Secray]

“The seers told me Otahera looks favourably upon our journey. These...interlopers...would do well to pray for her mercy. Let us proceed.”

"Ja'vorluens, 'desecraters' would be a more fitting term," Petra snarled under her breath. This was not the first time that she had been accosted by the banished clans, but they had never gone so far as to burn a tribal banner before. She stared at the now simmering arrow and nearly left the burnt piece of cloth behind, but it just didn't feel right. Instead, Petra loosed her paw from Zill's, after helping him stand, and she knelt down beside the pitiful fabric. She used Talis' dagger to gently clip it free from the rope that had held it captive to its pyre. Solemnly, she scratched away snow and frozen dirt, ignoring how it darkened her white and gray fur. After creating a shallow enough "grave," she placed the banner within, then covered it with earth and snow. "Otahera, watch over us. Keep us and our families safe. Don't let these Ja'vorluens dismiss you and your people." She kissed her paw and tapped it to the blue marking above her brow. The blessing said, Petralavi rose, and gestured to Zill. "Let us go."

She walked beside her friend silently, her eyes full of both sorrow and murder. To burn a banner...it was unthinkable. Even their enemy clans knew that to do such a thing would possibly bring about war. It wasn't just a dishonor to the tribe; it was a dishonor to the spirits themselves. The Ney'Kalo banner was a mixture of blues, whites, and purples. A blue flame, similar to Petra's tribal marking, was etched across a white background. Purple trim embraced the symbol while two violet stars appeared in the left and right corners of the banner to symbolize Otahera and Nezon. Despite its smaller size, the Ney'Kalo tribe was actually one of the oldest clans and therefore still held true to spiritual traditions. Whereas the Zjoran were known as the healers, many of the Ney'Kaloans were thought of as spirit-speakers, seers, and healers who used spiritual energy rather than herbs. The Ney'Kalo tribe also provided warriors for other tribes, so they were looked upon for protection.

Petra had only been apart from her parents and tribemates for three days, but it felt much longer. Her right paw constantly strayed to Oonah's gift, while her left went to Talis' blade. She wasn't afraid of her mission....she just wasn't used to being away from her kin. It was another reason why she was happy to have Zill at her side. At least he was familiar, and at least she could trust him. By Otahera...how she missed those days when she and Zill used to play together while their parents bartered. Life had been so simple back then, but no longer. Now they both carried the heritage of their parents and tribes on their shoulders.

They walked in silence for a bit long before a sentry approached them. He was larger than both wolves and a few years older, but he did not look as confident in himself as Petra and Zill were in themselves. A new guard, Petra thought, amused. She paused and lifted her head, clearly telling him that she was not a simple vagabond.

"State your names and purpose for being at Lehvalek."

Petra flicked her ears and gestured to herself first. "I am Petralavi, daughter of Alphas Oonah and Ahmaer of the Ney'Kalo tribe.” She motioned respectfully to Zill. As an invited ambassador, she knew it was safer to speak for both of them. “This is my companion, Zill, son of the Alphas Kjer and Evalle of the Zjoran tribe. I was summoned by Thallek." At this, Petra reached into a satchel and withdrew the summons.

The guard took it and looked over the script and the seal, one eyebrow arching thoughtfully. He nodded and stowed the parchment away before pointing at Zill. "The Zjoran tribe was not asked to attend. He is not-"

"He is my companion, and a guest of our tribe," Petra interrupted sharply, her lip curled above her teeth. The guard took a step back, intimidated by the shorter she-wolf. "I am certain Master Thallek would not disapprove of his arrival. The Zjoran has always been welcome here before, and you will give great dishonor to the Ney'Kalo should you refuse a Zjoran entrance."

The sentry stared at her for a long moment, but one look at her wicked claws, her blades, as well as Zill's, and the glint in her eye caused the guard to cower. He bowed his head then stepped aside, his voice quieter now. "This way, please."

Petra glared at him for a moment before moving forward. Normally she would not have been so brusque with another wolf, but Thallek, and the citizens of Lehvalek, had to realize that neither the Ney'Kalo nor the Zjoran could be ignored. This was their land as much as the rest of the packs. As they passed the guard, she sent Zill a tiny wink. As tough as she could be, Petra was also kind-hearted. She might threaten a wolf until she was blue in the face, but she rarely acted upon her threats unless they were absolutely necessary.

The two wolves moved together towards the keep. Even before the doors opened, Petra felt rather out of place. Here she was, a daughter of a lesser clan, about to enter the great keep. She stood bedecked in tribal markings, including the painted one above her blue eyes. Her paw was dirty, her clothing and white fur had smudges, and unlike a few of the she-wolves walking around, Petra's headfur looked unkempt with the many braids, strings, tassels, and even some shells from another tribe. However, her decoration showed her status in the tribe, so she would not change her appearance, even if she wasn't "suitable" for the court.

"This place feels so....foreign," she murmured quietly to Zill, her tone holding just a bit of concern. "We should not be expected to change our ways," she added, more to comfort herself than anything. When they reached the keep, she took a breath, then moved through the doors.

ooc: I'll let you describe the keep a bit more lol. You can assume that Petra will probably just stand there in shock and awe at first.

[Bowen Lark]

Walking beside Petra, Zill wound the remains of his clan’s banner around his left forearm. He could not bear to bury his as the she-wolf had done, desiring instead that the tattered cloth be returned to Zjolan territory and given over to the seers, who would know what to do with it. It was decorated with the colours of Zill’s clan, pale greens and shocks of brilliant gold that twisted in a leaf pattern around the symbol of Avali, an ancestor the Zjolan called the First Healer. If it was a true banner, which the wolf took it to be, the cloth had been prayed over by the seers and imbued with memory of the past and hope for the future of the Zjolan clan. To see it treated like so much garbage filled Zill with anger and fear. His clan had never been the target of other clans’ wrath – to see that so quickly changed left him feeling deeply troubled.

He trailed back from Petra and shrugged his mother’s longbow off his shoulder. The weight of it strengthened Zill some, adding a jaunt to his stride. He offered the sight as a challenge to the underhanded filth following them. Show yourselves, the wolf thought, letting his eyes drift over the tundra. Let us see your boldness, Ja'vorluens. Zills guts were twisted around inside his belly, clenched by a deepening unease. He wished for his mother and father’s counsel – more so, he wished to warn them.

The wolf came to a halt beside Petra, the longbow still clutched in one hand. Zill glanced over the sentry, recognizing the other wolf’s clan tattoo as belonging to one of those who remained at the keep with the Vraenar family. It puzzled Zill that anyone would choose to remain to in a space bordered by walls – where did they hunt? Gather? While Petra was introducing them, the grey wolf scrutinized Lehvalek, trying to find something comforting in the stone towering over them. A shiver went up his spine. Are we any safer in here than on Thalosi?

Zill returned his focus to the conversation with the sentry as Petra offered reason for the presence of a Zjolan escort. He pressed his mouth into a thin smile, laughing inside as the she-wolf’s challenging stance forced the sentry to back down. Not for nothing was the younger child of Oonah and Ahmaer the heir to the alpha status of the Ney’Kalo. Zill simply stood beside her, altering his posture to add support to Petra`s stance. His eyes were chips of green ice and stayed narrowed on the sentry even as the other wolf turned and led them into Lehvalek.

The wolf glanced at Petra as they stepped into the courtyard. Her clan decoration stood out amongst the more conservative garb of Lehvalek’s inhabitants. Even Zill could have passed for one of the sentries – his garb was cut in the same loose-fitting style, with only the deep green colour of his tunic marking him as a visitor. He wondered at how the she-wolf felt and walked closer to her.

"This place feels so....foreign. We should not be expected to change our ways."

"My grandda said Thren Vraenar wanted to move the clans into a better future – Lehvalek was supposed to be a symbol of progress. But Thren made the stone walls without the ancestors` blessing, and the clans have been in turmoil ever since."

Zill had learned much of Talosi`s history from his grandfather, who had fought alongside Thren Vraenar fifty years before. He cherished the old stories and the tales of their ancestors – venerable Otahera, proud Ushem, compassionate Avali, and the guardian of them all, Nezon. Zill saw nothing of their presence in Lehvalek – impressive as the smooth stone arches were, the keep felt cold, almost desolate.

The actual keep stretched far above them, made up of thousands of wide dark stones and heavy beams of wood. The yard was bustling with commerce – creatures guiding caravans into an expansive stable, others bartering for smaller items at stalls, and the bustle of daily upkeep wedged in between. The whole of the Ney`Kalo and the Zjolan could live here with room to spare, Zill thought. He vacillated between awe-stricken silence and unease.

888

Romulus watched the newcomers arrive with naked curiosity stamped on his features. He had not yet met a member of one of the lesser tribes, nor had the merchant guild expressed interest in doing business with them until Thallek had thought to propose the deal. Still, the brown wolf knew little of the lesser tribes except that they practised a greater adherence to the rituals that Thren's ascension had largely done away with. The she-wolf Ney'Kaloan's attire certainly evidenced this reality.

“Shall we meet Thallek’s guests?” Vyrli murmured beside Romulus. The smaller wolf’s tone was wry. Romulus wondered if Vyrli suspected Zill and Petra’s arrival would bring with it a token amount of trouble from the banished clans.

“The chieftain expects us to treat his guests with only the utmost courtesy,” Romulus replied, starting down the wall steps. “So I would imagine he does not want us to let them idle in the courtyard.”

Romulus had removed his cloak shortly after noon, when the sun had warmed the grounds to a more tolerable clime. Though a wolf like the others, his short, near-black fur and deep green eyes marked him as one of the southern-born. He wondered if the two newcomers would pepper him with questions about his life in the south, or if they would regard him with the same lurking suspicion the elders in Lehvalek did. What matter, so long as the interests of the guild are protected? He had long become immune to the stares and hushed comments of the other inhabitants in the keep.

As he approached Zill and Petra, Romulus raised his hands palms up, hoping to convey that he meant no threat to them. His rumbling voice was calm, and he used the common language of the tribes to address the two wolves.

“My welcome to you, Petralavi daughter of Oonah and Ahmaer of the Ney’Kalo.” He paused a moment and moved his gaze to Zill. “And you, Zill son of Evalle and Kjer of the Zjolan. I am Romulus, an ambassador of the guilds and also a guest of Chieftain Thallek. It is my honour to meet you both.”

Vyrli appeared beside him and offered Zill and Petra a formal clan bow. Romulus, who stood nearly a head taller than most of the wolves living in Lehvalek, noted with humour that Vyrli stood at the same height as Petra.

“Nezon smile on you, brother and sister,” Vyrli said, the common language fluid and lilting on his tongue. “I am Vyrli of the Kazdaru. Please, if you have need of anything, speak to me and I will bend the earth to see your desires met.”

[Aryela Jade Secray]

There is a darkness in these walls. The spirits do not bless this place, nor do the people carry the spirits in their hearts. Petra curled her lip in disgust and glanced over her shoulder at the expansive courtyard. All forms of trade occurred just outside of the keep, and Petra even saw wagons being pulled by horses. She flicked her ears back, stepping aside as a wagon rumbled past her. The rider sneered at her and Zill and muttered something that sounded like "savages" under his breath. Petra tightened her grip on her dagger and snarled deeply in her throat. The citizen lifted an eyebrow and actually had the common sense to urge his horses along, leaving the she-wolf to glare after him.

"I doubt I am going to enjoy this place," she muttered more to herself than to Zill. For a moment, she had to wonder why she had agreed to venture to Lehvalek. Had her parents endured the same looks and comments when they had visited years ago? No wonder Oonah and Ahmaer had not put up too much of a fight when she had asked to go in their places. They could have at least warned her how different the society here was to her tribe, or perhaps this was supposed to be a test.

Lovely...As if I need any more pressure on my shoulders? Petra shook her head then stepped further into the keep. As was to be expected, the she-wolf froze at the sight of the place. It was the largest building she had ever seen before! There was so much to look at, even at the entrance. Her tribe had nothing like this, and while it might have seemed beautiful to her under normal circumstances, it just felt cold and detached from her now. Perhaps it was the absence of the spirits and nature. Oh Nezon, Avali, where are you?

Petra sighed under her breath and moved alongside Zill into the building. Before they had gone very far, she caught sight of two more wolves approaching them. One looked even more foreign than the rest of the place! His fur color was different, and he did not have the air of a northern clan wolf about him. Petra bristled with distrust and only her confidence in her fighting ability prevented her from backing away. She shifted closer to Zill then paused when her eyes landed on the second wolf. The appearance of Vyrli seemed to help her nerves. At least he felt like he belonged with a clan and the spirits.

“My welcome to you, Petralavi daughter of Oonah and Ahmaer of the Ney’Kalo. And you, Zill son of Evalle and Kjer of the Zjolan. I am Romulus, an ambassador of the guilds and also a guest of Chieftain Thallek. It is my honour to meet you both.”

Petra's eyes darted to Romulus and she frowned. His words were kind, and he did show the proper respect, but she wasn't certain what to make of him quite yet. He was...different...not clan though Petra supposed she would be meeting a lot of strange wolves here.

“Nezon smile on you, brother and sister. I am Vyrli of the Kazdaru. Please, if you have need of anything, speak to me and I will bend the earth to see your desires met.”

Petra looked at Vyrli and breathed out a slow breath. First impressions were everything, and she certainly did not want to cause trouble with an ambassador from the south, or with Vyrli. The she-wolf touched her claws to her muzzle then tapped her tribal marking before bowing her head, showing respect both in her tribal and common traditions.

"Greetings to you, Romulus," she said slowly, struggling to find the right words. "Your words are kind. May Otahera and Nezon smile upon you. Have...you traveled far?"

That said, she looked to Vyrli, and a small smile creased her muzzle. "Kaprah ven alta garsh," she whispered, then translated for Romulus' sake. "Spirits' blessing, dear brother." Petra bowed her head a bit lower then looked between the two wolves. "Will you show us the keep?"

[Bowen Lark]

Romulus tensed under the weight of Petra’s critical gaze, but he looked on her face without giving hint to the anxiety prickling his spine. He had endured the scrutiny of the clans for nearly two years, but the eyes of a she-wolf born to an old clan were sharper somehow. Still, the dark wolf bore it with the dignity he had built up over a lifetime of continuous inspection, keeping his features placid. He let his hands hang loosely at his sides, resisting the temptation to prop the left one on the hilt of his sword. The merchant guild had spent a hefty sum hiring a tutor to teach Romulus the culture and language of the Talosi clans and he had learned well; still, there were some moments when he wanted to break the norms of his host culture and fall back into the familiar and comforting patterns of his home.

The dark wolf watched as Vyrli stepped between him and the newcomers, clearly more at home playing master of the house with his own people. If the higher clans consider the Ney’Kalo their people... Thallek’s decision to offer the lesser clans a piece of the trade bargain had come as a deep shock to most of his household. For years, it had been customary, even preferred, to keep the lesser clans firmly entrenched at the bottom of the Talosi hierarchy. The imbalance of power and influence had given the higher clans advantages in trade agreements and territory disputes – things that would change if the Ney’Kalo accepted Thallek’s proposal. I am on the edge of a world about to shift, Romulus thought. He was not sure whether to feel joy or apprehension at the notion.

Vyrli was more animated than Romulus had ever seen him, chatting with Zill and Petra in the swift clan tongue that the dark wolf still found difficult to follow. It took Romulus a moment to remember that the smaller wolf had relatives in one of the lesser tribes – the Kazdaru was a rarity for allowing marriages between higher and lesser clans. Vyrli had been a product of such a union, although his position as a council member at Lehvalek afforded him respect enough for many to forget his parentage. His black roan fur made his background difficult to forget, however, and Romulus knew that the smaller wolf struggled at times to straddle the space in privilege between a member of the higher clans and those of the lower.
Vyrli returned Petra’s greeting, delight showing in his dark amber eyes. He sidestepped to walk beside Zill and the she-wolf, leaving Romulus the lone wolf amongst them.

“Of course, sister. We have time – it is Thallek’s wish that we convene for a welcoming dinner shortly after nightfall. Until then, we may wander Lehvalek until your curiosity is sated.”

888

Zill did not let it show that he was taken aback by Romulus’ display of manners. All of the stories his elders had told about the southlanders had described them as being hideously vulgar, warlike, and nearly incapable of reason despite their silk clothes and stone houses. Confronted with the dark wolf’s calm eloquence, Zill felt a level of certainty slip from under him. He had only encountered southlanders in his grandfather’s tales, and Romulus bore no resemblance to the characters of his childhood.

He felt better about Vyrli. Zill knew in the span of a few breaths that the other wolf was demsik, a child from a union of higher and lesser clans. The black-flecked pattern of his coat evidenced a blending of clan bloods. Zill thought Vyrli looked like a strange in-between creature, swathed in higher clan garb with the stamp of a lesser clan on his brow. Still, he carried himself well, conveying humility and pleasure at the presence of two alpha heirs. He reminds me of Rojen, the grey wolf thought, recalling the same enthusiasm in his youngest brother.

“I would like to see more of this place,” Zill said, breaking his silence. “What is it that endears this place to you, Vyrli?”

The other wolf smiled as he led them forward. “Many things, brother. First I will show you the library where Thallek’s father Olrek began to compile the histories of the Talosi clans.”

ooc: please feel free to take 'em to the library and create some stuff to see, lol.

[Aryela Jade Secray]

“I would like to see more of this place. What is it that endears this place to you, Vyrli?”

Petra was wondering the same thing. What kept Vyrli here instead of in the wilderness with his own clan? She couldn't imagine what could possibly entertain her enough that she would want to stay behind closed walls everyday. Though there was bustling activity outside, that sort of life bored Petra. She preferred to hunt with her tribe, sing to the moon, and dance around colorful fires as their storytellers wove tales of honor.

“Many things, brother. First I will show you the library where Thallek’s father Olrek began to compile the histories of the Talosi clans.”

"The library?" Petra exclaimed, her head whipping around to stare at Vyrli. Her thick earrings jingled, and one of the shells in her headfur clacked quietly against her blade. Her eyes grew a bit wide with delight. A library! She had forgotten that one resided within the keep. Oonah and Ahmaer had taught her to read from a very young age, and not just in the clan language, but in the common as well. Her mother had especially spoken of a vast library with books that could reach all the way to Otahera. Petra had laughed, thinking her mother was joking, but the serious look in Oonah's eyes had told the pup that her mother spoke truth. While Petra was not a very good writer, she certainly knew how to read, and she enjoyed it! Ahmaer thought it would make her more "civilized" if she had to visit the city, while her mother felt it would protect Petra and the Ney'Kalo should a treaty need to be signed. Petra knew well that it was very important to read every line in a treaty lest her tribe fall into a trap.

The she-wolf fought back her excitement, silently gesturing for Vyrli to lead the way. As they moved down the hall, she glanced back at Romulus one more time, more out of curiosity than anything. She was certain that this would not be the last time that she would see him.

The keep was a mixture of winding hallways that soon left Petra rather lost. Outside she could easily track her steps, but here, only her nose could guide her, and it was difficult to smell a single scent when there were so many others vying for her attention. Misty smoke from the torches, distant aromas from food, the musky scent of fur....oh so many things to smell! Outside had been bad enough, but here, the walls kept the smells trapped, causing them to momentarily overwhelm Petra's senses. She grabbed her headfur and breathed it in slowly, recognizing her mother and father in her gray tresses. Peace washed over her, and she hurried to catch up to Vyrli as he stepped into another room.

When Petra passed through the door, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Her mother had not been lying. Before her were, in her eyes, mountains of books. Shelves littered with tomes, scrolls, parchment, and even some woven tapestries it seemed. Her eyes grew wide, and she stepped in slowly, reverently. The shelves practically reached the ceiling, though in the space between, Petra caught sight of various tribal and clan banners (replicas no doubt). They dotted the walls, honoring greater and (to her surprise) lesser clans. When her eyes fell upon the Ney'Kalo banner, her eyes actually misted, and for the first time since arriving at Lehvalek, Petra gave a genuine smile.

Not waiting for any instruction, Petra slowly shrugged off her pack, her overcoat, and even her sword, which she left nestled beside her bag. Her items were placed beneath a table, out of the way, but in clear sight so Petra could watch for thieving paws. Her dagger remained on her belt. It would never leave her side while she was away from her tribe.

"Ah me...Ya'neya would be proud," Petra whispered, using the name of the spirit of knowledge. Ya'neya was delighted when wolves recorded the history of the land because, in the Ney'Kalo beliefs at least, she could descend from the sky and read what was happening to her people. Petra considered Ya'neya her guardian in life.

The she-wolf went to a nearby ladder and climbed it rather swiftly. As she moved, her pelicon lifted slightly, revealing a beaded bracelet that wrapped around her ankle, and seemed to travel up part of her calf. It was a pretty thing with a mixture of blue and purple beads. Petra had made it when she was named a warrior, and she never took it off. It was dear to her, and she felt it brought her protection.

Clinging to the ladder, she ran her fingers lovingly over the books then selected one. Her eyes scanned the pages, and she laughed, her voice rich and bright. "Zill, this is one of the stories beloved Birus told us many, many years ago." She leaned down, holding it out to him. "I miss that old storyteller." Birus had been ancient when Petra and Zill were pups. He had always told the most interesting stories, and Petra could recite many of them by heart. It had been tragic when the spirits called him home. In fact, Petra had sought comfort from Zill since he had been visiting at the time of Birus' death.

A fond look crossed her face as Petra allowed her "diplomatic" facade to fall so she could enjoy the library. She trusted Zill, and Vyrli already felt like a clan-brother to her, so what did she have to fear?

[Bowen Lark]

"The library?"

Vyrli’s maw opened in a mask of silent laughter, delighted by Petra’s exclamation.

“Yes, sister, a library. Olrek found it a great source of pride to have so many books – especially those which give us knowledge of other lands. All the pups that live in Lehvalek are required to learn the language of another land, so that the knowledge never escapes us. One of the elders here has even started to make a book of the stories of our ancestors, to preserve the legends should our tongues ever fail.”

Romulus let a small smile quirk the edges of his mouth at Petra’s enthusiasm for the library. A fellow academic, he thought, envisioning a conversation that did not involve guild politics or the price of cattail powder. Although the library at the keep was impressive, reading and writing remained acts done only sparingly by the wolves that lived there. Many preferred the oral tradition, relaying stories and messengers from a live body rather than scribbles etched on parchment. Because of that, the library had become something of a sanctuary for Romulus, who often spent hours at night perusing the shelves, led only by a lit taper.
He was glad too that the she-wolf showed some sign of literacy. Romulus had sat in on negotiations with clans unfamiliar with the language used in the trade agreements – it was often a frustrating, exhausting ordeal. As an ambassador of the guilds, it was his sole responsibility to ensure new partners were confident in the terms of the trade agreements. Having to break down the contracts article by article... Fates, I dread that more than anything. Romulus had a passing amount of legal experience, but he liked to avoid dredging it up when it was possible.

The dark wolf followed at length behind the others, keeping silent while Vyrli’s voice rang off the dark stone walls of the keep. Once they were behind Lehvalek’s doors, Romulus veered off for his chamber. He did not want to intrude on Vyrli’s tour, and there was certain to be a missive or two desiring answer before the day was done.

888

Zill tried to share Petra’s enthusiasm for the library, but he had never been taken with the idea of symbols designed to hold the stories of their people. Memory worked just as well to preserve tradition. He could read – once Evalle and Kjer had heard that the Ney’Kalo were teaching Petra to decipher books, Zill had been given the task too. He took no joy in it, finding the words on the page lifeless next to a storyteller’s inflections. But his parents had paid a heavy supply of herbs to bring in a tutor from Lehvalek for one summer, and Zill did not dare to dishonour their intentions by stating his dislike of books.

Still, the grey wolf ambled beside Petra and Vyrli as they entered into the keep. The sudden narrowing of the space around him startled Zill. He crossed his arms over his chest and flattened his ears, feeling like he had gone into a snow cave. The air was both stale and heavy with comingled scents, making it difficult for the grey wolf to discern where he was. Some of the passageways were cramped and windowless, leaving Zill with the notion that they had become lost in the world of spirits and would never see daylight again.

The grey wolf placed a hand on the firm muscle of Petra’s shoulder, one warrior silently asking another for strength. He gave no voice to his fears, but the touch would let the she-wolf know how little Zill cared for the keep. Even the banners honouring the Talosi clans did not settle the churning anxiety in the grey wolf’s belly. He had been born to the wide openness of the tundra and being in Lehvalek was like crawling back into a cold, wholly unnatural womb.

Yet Zill could not help the grin that wormed across his maw as Petra shed her travel gear and scaled the nearest shelf. It was as though they were pups again, and Petra was embarking on some reckless adventure to prove her courage. Her murmur to Ya’neya had not escaped his ears – Zill had to agree that the spirit of knowledge would be pleased by Lehvalek’s library. Knowledge comes in many forms, the grey wolf reminded himself, feeling a twinge of unease at his clan’s sparse attention to all things written.

"Zill, this is one of the stories beloved Birus told us many, many years ago. I miss that old storyteller."

Zill took the tome, holding it so that the pages flipped open before his eyes. As he read the words, Birus’ voice resonated in his head. The grey wolf smiled, both sad and wistful. He remembered being amongst the Ney’Kalo when they had held a ceremony honouring the storyteller’s life. His gift had been a rare union of long memory and powerful imagination – Birus could tell the same story ten different ways and make each one both true and unique.

“I wonder if his spirit will find its way back here, to honour us again with the gift of tales,” the grey wolf murmured. He glanced at Vyrli. “Do you have storytellers here?”

The roan wolf nodded, aware that he was on the edge of a delicate moment between Zill and Petra.

“We do – in fact, storytellers from three different clans abide here. Each tells his tales from different streams of clan history, so that they are all alike and unlike in the same breath. I hope you meet them. I think the meeting we go to will be one all the clans will want a tale of.”

Zill shrugged, unsure of what the other wolf meant. He understood that a trade agreement between the higher and lesser clans would be significant, but no one had ever said in what ways. Would the Zjolan change? Would Talosi? He had a sudden vision of everyone living in stone walls and could barely suppress a shudder. And yet...Otahera found favour with the meeting. I must trust her ancient wisdom and hope what comes next is well for all the clans.

“What is your favourite tale, Petra?” the grey wolf asked, returning his gaze to the she-wolf. Focusing on her made him feel better for the moment.

[Aryela Jade Secray]

“I wonder if his spirit will find its way back here, to honour us again with the gift of tales."

"I'm certain he still does through the mouths of young storytellers." Petra looked up from another book she had snagged. "Some Ney'Kaloans claim that they've heard him whisper the stories into their dreams. That is why they can share the tales with the tribe. I like to think that he is still with us." The she-wolf smiled softly then flipped slowly through the book. One pierced ear perked, listening quietly as Zill and Vyrli spoke with one another. It was good to know that there were other storytellers here. It would be an honor to meet them, especially if they were of different clans. Petra was used to the Ney'Kalo and the Zjolan storytellers, but she had never heard others tell their tribal tales.

Petra replaced the book then slid down the ladder to a lower level. She had noticed one of the tapestries dangling off the shelf, and it looked to have a familiar clan's symbol etched on the border. She brushed it aside and was about to reach for a book when Zill spoke to her.

“What is your favourite tale, Petra?”

The she-wolf looked back at him and grinned, all too happy to share the story. She could have just told him the "Seed Sender" tale, but Birus would strike her paw if he knew that she passed up a perfect opportunity to share one of his stories. Besides, while Zill most likely knew the tale, Vyrli probably didn't.

Petra hopped down, landing lightly on her footpaws. The beaded ankle-bracelet rattled, and her earrings jingled as she stalked lightly around her friend, a mischievous smile on her face. Petra could be as unpredictable as the sea. Gentle one moment, fierce at another, and sometimes even unforgiving. Her tail brushed against Zill's ankle, and she winked at him.

"What tale, you ask? Why the Seed Sender of course. You know this story, Zill, I'm certain of it, but perhaps you do not," she said, casting the comment towards Vyrli. She looked around then snagged what looked like a round paperweight from a nearby table. She spun it lightly in her paw then produced it before the two males. "In the ancient days when the spirits first spoke of creating wolves, there grew a tree and a single seed, nigh bigger then the palm of my paw." She held out the round object and blew across it. "Magic was said to keep the seed alive, even when Lady Winter blew ice across its tender surface. The tree branch would bend and cradle the seed against the harsh seasons." She folded her arm in, bringing the ball to her chest. "Otahera was the keeper of the seed, and she watched it every waking moment. And yet!" Petra spread her paws wide, the paperweight suddenly gone from her arm and nowhere to be found. "There was another, Ahmis, who hoped to steal the seed to make his own world...his own people. He cast a sleeping spell upon Otahera, and when she slumbered beneath the three, he snatched the seed!"

Petra reached out and suddenly produced the "seed" from behind Vyrli's ear. She held it close and stepped back slowly, her tail swishing. "He hoped to take it to his dark world, but Ushem and Avali, who had watched from afar Otahera's plight, stole away from Nezon and attacked Ahmis! In their struggle, the seed fell and broke." Petra released the orb, but caught it with her footpaw before it could actually shatter. She lifted it slowly and seemed to "magically" pull to small beads from its surface. "Two tiny sparks floated from the seed and soared into the sky before Ushem and Avali could seal it. With Ahmis defeated, they brought the seed back to Otahera who said to them, 'Little ones, the first tribes are birthed. We shall be their guardians, and they shall be our children.' And thus, the Ney'Kalo and the Zjolan greeted the world, and still stand as two of the oldest tribes today."

Petra gently placed the weight on the table and smiled at Zill. "That, mi'neson is my favorite tale," the she-wolf concluded with a chuckle. She moved past him and returned to the many shelves. Her acting, she was certain, was not as wonderful as Birus', but she felt she had done a good job at least.

Petra moved along the books for a moment then snatched one that looked to have the colors of her tribe. When she flipped open the page, she grinned and hurried over to Zill's side. Comfortingly, she brushed her shoulder against his, more out of sisterly love than anything. She tapped the page and looked up into his icy green eyes. "Ah, see, there are our tribes, and I see my father's name." She read through it slowly, enjoying the tale, at least until she came upon one paragraph. Petra's eyes suddenly hardened and she frowned deeply.

"What is this?" she asked, turning the book towards Vyrli, though he would have to step forward to read it. "It says here that Oonah was the ruler of the savage Ney'Kalo tribe, and it was only when Ahmaer of the Zjolan took her as a mate that he was able to 'tame' the madness from her and her clan. This is a lie. I thought you said that these books contained the histories of the tribes..."

Petra looked deeply unsettled now. The book had mentioned a few bitter words against the Zjolan as well, but she did not want to upset Zill by speaking them aloud. Hopefully he had not seen them.

ooc: Hope that works! Thought we could add a little more conflict there heh

[Bowen Lark]

"I'm certain he still does through the mouths of young storytellers Some Ney'Kaloans claim that they've heard him whisper the stories into their dreams. That is why they can share the tales with the tribe. I like to think that he is still with us."

Zill marvelled at how certain Petra seemed. She had always been the more confident, the bolder, of the two of them, striding forward while he stayed back to think. The Ney’Kalo are lucky to have her as Oonah and Ahmaer’s heir and not Mysin, the grey wolf thought, grimacing with disdain for the she-wolf’s brother. It had only been a month ago that he and Thern had chased Mysin off Zjolan territory for harassing Acacia with courting gifts. Zill thought Petra had received all of her parents’ good qualities – wit, reason, and confidence – while Mysin made due with a double helping of lust. Thinking about Acacia’s heartbroken face again made him scowl.

His sour mood evaporated once Petra shot him a grin, reminding him again of their shared taunts and dares on the snow fields years ago. She was a gifted storyteller – much more attuned to the audience and more at ease than Zill was when recalling tales. I always feel like a pup next to her, the grey wolf thought, envying Petra’s ease. As she brushed past him, he narrowed his eyes and smirked, knowing Petra and the mystery of her moods.

When she said the Seed Sender was her favourite tale, Zill nodded as though he had forgotten. In truth, the grey wolf forgot little of Petra and her myriad quirks and habits – evidence of how close they had been as pups, and how close they remained as adults. Zill was the only wolf his age in the Zjolan and because of this his parents had sent him to mingle with the Ney’Kalo often, hoping to keep the friendship between the clans strong. Zill still drifted between the tribes now, but as his parents’ heir he now had less time to do so, forced by necessity to stay amongst his clan and learn how to one day govern them. The wolf frowned. When was it last we were together...? For Acacia’s coming of age ceremony? That was so long ago.

Vyril padded nearer the she-wolf, curiosity kindling in his amber eyes. He was no storyteller and had a poor memory of the myths that formed a tapestry of the Talosi’s ancient history. Zill’s eyes moved between the roan wolf and Petra, enjoying the spell she was casting with her story. A thin smile broke across the grey wolf’s muzzle as Petra produced the “seed” from behind Vyrli’s ear, making him start.

At the story’s end, Zill could not keep a warm smile from his maw. He leaned into Petra’s shoulder and swatted at her with his tail, returning to good humour. “Birus would be proud,” he murmured to her, winking.

"Ah, see, there are our tribes, and I see my father's name.”
Zill moved to Petra’s side, reading over her shoulder. As he scanned over the chronicles of the Ney’Kalo, he started to frown...

"It says here that Oonah was the ruler of the savage Ney'Kalo tribe, and it was only when Ahmaer of the Zjolan took her as a mate that he was able to 'tame' the madness from her and her clan. This is a lie. I thought you said that these books contained the histories of the tribes..."

Vyril looked both embarrassed and resigned. He canted his head to one side, chin dipped in toward his chest.

“I am sorry you had to see that, Petra. The chronicles do not share a history of my mother’s people that I recognize, either. These were written...” he huffed out a breath. “Some of these were written by history-keepers in the banished clans. Their recollections are greatly tilted, some more so than others.”

He moved to stand beside the she-wolf and tapped the page with a claw. “This one, I think, is by Suidon Greyclaw, whose grandsire first proposed to turn the lesser clans into thralls and slaves. The words he leaves behind come from bitterness and a deep prejudice. I would comfortably guess that he never met your mother and used only what he believed of the lesser clans to complete the histories.”

The words Zill had read curled around his head. The Zjolan, gifted healers though they are, remain the weakest of the lesser clans for their attention to Avali’s arts. Without frequent martial aid from nearby clans, the Zjolan would have been exterminated in territory skirmishes generations ago.

“Then why are these works still here?” the grey wolf growled, bristling as he turned on Vylri. “Why keep lies in your stone house?”

Vyrli showed his palms. “In Lehvalek, we teach the pups that there is more than one story to consider. Suidon’s is an unkind version, but it offers us a look at how the banished clans think, and that is something we can learn from.”

Zill narrowed his eyes and glanced at Petra. Vyrli gazed calmly back, both sad and apologetic.

“I hope you will stay to attend the negotiation dinner after this offense. Believe me, none of us here believe like Suidon do. His ilk fled with the banished clans.”

ooc: hope that works!

[Aryela Jade Secray]

“I am sorry you had to see that, Petra. The chronicles do not share a history of my mother’s people that I recognize, either. These were written...Some of these were written by history-keepers in the banished clans. Their recollections are greatly tilted, some more so than others. This one, I think, is by Suidon Greyclaw, whose grandsire first proposed to turn the lesser clans into thralls and slaves. The words he leaves behind come from bitterness and a deep prejudice. I would comfortably guess that he never met your mother and used only what he believed of the lesser clans to complete the histories.”

Petra growled softly under her breath and closed the tome. "Suidon Greyclaw...that is not a name I shall soon forget," she grumbled, a spice to her tone. The Ney'Kalo, while a peaceful tribe, did not take insults very lightly. Wolves had been banished from their tribe for saying something against the Alphas, or even some of the omegas. While certainly not at the top of the tribe, omegas were still revered over outsiders. Petra remembered when a Ney'Kaloan's son had been banished because he'd tried to injure a fellow wolf. The family had been horrified at his actions, and had gladly asked him to leave. Inwardly, Petra was at times surprised that her brother Mysin hadn't been turned away yet. While she loved him, Petra did not approve of many things he did. Perhaps he was the model for Suidon's argument that the Ney'Kalo tribe was full of savages.

Still grousing to herself, Petra returned the book to the shelf. She was hard-pressed not to scratch the cover. However, Vyrli had made a point. While the story of their tribe was cruel, it did give the pups, and even the elders, a nice look at what the banished wolves thought of the "lesser" tribes. Perhaps future clans could learn from these...vicious views of innocent packs.

Petra moved quietly to Zill's side, noting the anger in his voice as well. Ah, so he did notice what they said about the Zjolan. Weak pack, pah! Yes, many of the Zjolans were gentle healers, but Petra had trained with several of the wolves before, including Zill. They were no pups still nursing at their mothers’ breast. They were wise, powerful wolves who had defended their land against outsiders.

Petra smirked to herself. Oh, she would enjoy watching a group of wolves who thought of the Zjolan as nothing but weak babes. Wouldn't they be surprised? Suidon was a fool, and she hoped never to meet him, otherwise she might very well show him just how savage she could be.

“I hope you will stay to attend the negotiation dinner after this offense. Believe me, none of us here believe like Suidon do. His ilk fled with the banished clans.”

Petra snorted loudly and crossed her arms. "While Suidon's words may have offended us, we would do a great disservice to our packs if we were to leave before negotiations even started. Besides, I would not want to give him, or the banished clans, the pleasure of watching me leave in a huff. I would act no better than what he claims me and my kind to be like." Petra shook her head slowly and let a gentle smile touch her muzzle.

"And besides, brother, it was not you or this court that presented the offense, but rather a conceited, ill-informed scholar who thinks he can create a false history in the hopes of swaying other banished packs. I think our appearance here will show that we are quite civilized. Besides," and here, Petra actually let a soft laugh bubble up from her throat, "I have heard that the Lehvalek food is quite delectable, especially when it is prepared for Thallek's guests. I would rather not miss it."

The anger had melted away, leaving a calmer Petra. During her little speech, she had convinced herself that, while she was offended by the book, it would not do her or her tribe any good to make a fuss about it. It was one scholar's opinion versus that of the court. She had a feeling that Thallek would not have brought them here to insult them. It was just her misfortune that she had picked up the wrong book. Or perhaps Otahera is warning us...we have already received threats.

Petra frowned a little, remembering the sight of her burnt tribal banner. She looked to Vyrli, and went to ask him about it, when a quiet knock at the door caught her attention. Petra flicked her ears up and looked at the entrance of the room as a small figure stepped inside. Petra was at first annoyed that three pack wolves had been interrupted, but when she recognized the tribal markings on the new she-wolf, Petra relaxed. Ah, now she would meet a sister.

The new arrival was quite a few inches shorter than Petra, and nowhere near as muscular. In fact, the she-wolf was quite thin and obviously not a pure-bred arctic wolf. She was a mixed breed; arctic from her mother, and a golden coat from her father. She was Teklara, a daughter of the Mezaric clan. Her body was thin and gentle with a glistening golden coat. Her headfur fell in lovely brown curls around her face, matching the three mahogany marks across her left eye. It looked as if three claws had scratched through her flesh, leaving the scar, but Petra could tell it was painted, and it looked rather fitting on the slight she-wolf. The brown pigment symbolized the Mezaric’s connection to earth and wood.

Teklara's clan consisted of artisans who favored wood carving. In fact, many of the intricately cut chairs that they would find in the library, and even in the main hall, were created by her clan. Teklara herself had a gift for carving, but she was also a healer, as was revealed by the small kit strapped around her waist.

Her grab looked exotic, even more than Petra’s. It was a rendition of a sari, a gown made of a single piece of fabric, which originated from the far east. Travelers had ventured to her clan long ago and brought with them beautiful wears. The Mezaric had quickly adopted the style in both clothing and the design of the furniture. Teklara's sari was a muted green that wove elegantly around her body. She had a top piece to it so there was no risk of the cloth coming loose and revealing far too much to the council, though her clan was known for its fertility. Small golden and brown flowers embroidered the earthy cloth, presenting all of the Mezaric's tribal colors. It flowed beautifully around Teklara, and her golden bracelets, earrings, and necklace accented the image.

She paused for a moment then bowed her head low, her long headfur swooping down over her shoulder. "Greetings to you, Petralavi of the Ney'Kalo, and to you, Zill of the Zjolan. I am Teklara, daughter of Betas Galia and Vykarin of the Mezaric. I am humbled to have the opportunity to meet you."

With a gentle swish of her tail, Teklara stood then practically floated across the floor to Vyrli. Without a hint of modesty, she caught his muzzle in a kiss then nuzzled him affectionately along the neck and cheek. "Mon'yave" she uttered, using the word that meant "my love" in her clan's language. "The feast is prepared, and Lord Thallek is eager to meet our guests." She turned her honey-colored eyes to Zill and Petra then smiled. "I hope that you enjoy yourselves. Lord Thallek has been so kind to the clans that have thus far appeared."

Petra, who was struggling to hold back an amused smile, bowed her head politely. "We are honored to be here." Her eyes went to Vyrli for a moment, and she stifled a chuckle. Somehow she didn't think Vyrli was a bachelor anymore. Petra glanced at Zill out of the corner of his eye, wondering what his reaction might be. Deep down, she couldn't help but feel a slight bit of jealousy. For some reason, she didn't want Zill to admire Teklara, though it was a completely absurd thought. It was obvious that she and Vyrli were together, and yet it still wrinkled her fur to have Teklara so close to one of Petra's beloved friends.

ooc: hope that works. As a note, this is close to what Teklara is wearing. ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51GwNwMhzWL.jpg

[Bowen Lark]

Zill stood silently beside Petra, still seething from the lies marked down in Suidon Greyclaw’s book. He had lived as a target of prejudice and disdain from the higher clans since his birth, looked down upon for belonging to a peace-worshipping, healing clan. The Zjolan kept up good relationships with all of its neighbours, but even years of harmony did little to erode the beliefs that the smaller clans were inferior. Seeing the assertions written down stung like a fresh cut – these were insults written as though they were fact, as though they were acceptable truths. He muttered a guttural curse beneath his breath and shot the towering wall of books a baleful stare.

Vyrli’s tense expression eased as Petra told him they would be staying for the negotiations. He bowed in deference to the she-wolf, smiling once more.

“Hopefully a trade alliance between our peoples will work to erase the misconceptions left behind by Suidon’s kind.”

Zill nodded. “Aye. I have studied the clan histories and still I cannot find where it is that some clans became lesser and others higher. I am tired of living in a world where one clan must be above and below another clan – what does this sustain?” A sad smile appeared on his mouth. “Birus once told a tale of all the clans having come from a single united people. We are all wolves and Otahera smiles upon each of us – once, that was enough.”

Vyrli smiled back. “You are wise, brother. I know that tale as well, from my mother. We are all Talosi. This is why the banished clans splintered away from Lehvalek. Thallek’s policies are meant to remind us all that we share a common history.”

Zill canted his head to one side. “Then I agree with Petra that it is best we stay.”

The grey wolf maintained a calm expression, but inwardly he was shaken. Even amongst the Zjolan, Zill was reserved, a watcher and a listener. He felt both bold and reckless to have offered his voice alongside Petra’s. Why? We are both the heirs of alphas. How will my people hear me if I do not speak to them? The wolf leaned sideways and pressed his shoulder to Petra’s for comfort. She had been his best, his truest friend since earliest childhood. They complimented and contrasted one another – she talkative, bold, emphatic, and he taciturn, contemplative, constant. It was easy to stand beside Petra because he did not have to compete with her. They were gifted in separate realms of talent and mind. Zill suddenly saw the wisdom in Oonah and Ahmaer’s decision to send him as their daughter’s escort. Before the clans of Lehvalek, he and Petra would present a balanced example of the lesser clans, one to challenge the thinking left behind by those like Suidon.

Zill’s gaze moved to the door as a knock echoed. He was curious about the newcomer, a she-wolf whose markings he recognized but from a clan he had never actually encountered. Zill knew immediately that unlike Vyrli and Petra, the new she-wolf had southern blood in her. His shoulders lowered – the rare distinction of having a non-Talosi ancestor would be a common ground for them. In his family, it was Evalle whose blood was blended, and each of her children showed some proof of the mix. It had been a difficult legacy to live with as a child, but Zill had come to accept that he claimed roots from both the tundra and the southlands where his maternal grandfather had come from.

Zill hid a grin as Vyrli’s eyes suddenly went wide at the sound of the new she-wolf’s voice. The grey wolf thought Vyrli was about to swoon. Who could blame him? Outfitted in her clan’s traditional garb, Teklara looked every bit like Kona, whom the Zjolan worshipped as a spirit of fertility. But while Kona was said to have taken many lovers, Zill thought it was evident that Teklara had eyes only for Vyrli.

The roan wolf let out a sigh and gave his betrothed a fond and slightly yearning smile. His obligations as a council member made it difficult to spend time with Teklara. When they were wed and the trade negotiations were settled, Vyrli planned to settle down with the she-wolf’s tribe and leave Lehvalek far behind for many seasons.

Zill extended his hands palms up to Teklara. “Well met, sister. Please, take us to meet with Lord Thallek.”

“We will be staying for the negotiations,” Vyrli said. He ran his fingers down Teklara’s forearm before clasping her hand in his. “If you had mates, or were betrothed, Lord Thallek would have requested them in attendance.”

The grey wolf let out a wry laugh. “Thankfully that is not the case. My parents say they are still searching for a mate who will bring the right kind of alliance to the Zjolan. I think it will be a long search.”

“Do not discount yourself or the Zjolan, brother,” Vyrli said. He started toward the hall. “I know that my mother’s clan would be proud to call one of Avali’s children its own. Have you considered the Utali clan?”

Zill’s ears dropped as they crowded into the narrow, dark hallway and began ascending a flight of stairs.

“I will ask them when I return home. I am sure my parents would not balk at the idea of wedding me to one of the artists the Utali are renowned for.”

He did not look at Petra as he said this. He did not know if his parents had ever approached the Ney’Kalo about a marriage between their heirs. Even thinking about it seemed absurd – Petra was his dearest friend, almost a sister! And Zill had long known that as a future alpha, his mate choice rested largely on how the marriage would benefit the clans. Love was simply not a priority.

ooc: hope that is okay. Next post I will bring back Rom and intro Thallek and his kids.

[Aryela Jade Secray]

“Well met, sister. Please, take us to meet with Lord Thallek.”

Teklara flashed a charming smile at Zill and held her paws up like he had done, showing respect to him and his clan. Her clan was also thought of as "lesser," but that didn't seem to bother the she-wolf. In time, everyone would come to an understanding that they were all equal in Otahera's eyes. It did not matter if one clan was richer or larger; they all served the spirit, and therefore, they were all her children.

"Well met, brother, and dear sister," Teklara replied, inclining her head towards Petra who sent her a kind smile. The Ney'Kaloan stuck close to Zill, the fur on the back of her neck bristling just slightly, though she wasn't certain why. Teklara was obviously smitten with Vyrli, but she was also quite beautiful, which could cause any male wolf to sway, and females too for that matter. Petra swallowed her frustration and let the fur settle. Now was not the time to cause trouble.

“We will be staying for the negotiations. If you had mates, or were betrothed, Lord Thallek would have requested them in attendance.”

Teklara laughed softly as Vyrli traced his fingers along her arm then took her paw. She squeezed his then leaned over to nuzzle his shoulder tenderly, her eyes glowing with devotion. While other wolves may have had eyes for her, she adored her betrothed too much to turn away from him. They were lucky. As with many clans, Teklara's and Vyrli's kin had arranged for marriage, hoping to bring peace and prosperity between their two clans. At the time, Teklara had sworn to herself that she would never love the wolf her parents had matched her with. She believed in wedding for love, not for politics, though she knew it would help her clan. When Teklara had first laid eyes on Vyrli...her heart had stopped. When he'd spoken to her, all her fears and anger had melted away, and she had yet to leave his side.

He was brilliant and so caring. Teklara believed that Otahera and Kona had both thought it was time for a loving courtship to occur, and so it had. I am blessed to have him, Teklara thought to herself. She rested her head gently on Vyrli's shoulder and looked to Zill as he spoke.

“Thankfully that is not the case. My parents say they are still searching for a mate who will bring the right kind of alliance to the Zjolan. I think it will be a long search.”

They moved slowly into the darker hallway and towards the stairs, Vyrli and Teklara in the lead, Zill and Petra only a few feet behind. Teklara wound her arms around Vyrli’s right elbow so that she walked side-by-side with him, her sari rustling softly with each graceful step. Petra watched them and felt a longing in her heart that had not been there in some time. Oh, all wolves went through a period when they wanted to find someone to love. Vyrli and Teklara had been lucky, but Petra had a feeling that when she mated, it would be for politics. As the daughter of Alphas, it was important for her to remain...unattached for the sake of her tribe. Petra was so independent that it didn't often bother her, but she was still a she-wolf. She wanted to mate someone one day and have pups, but that seemed so far away.

She sighed quietly to herself, allowing Zill to go ahead of her up the stairs. Seeing his discomfort, she brushed a paw along his back and sent him a gentle look. Petra didn't like the enclosed spaces either, but she had a feeling they would find a few more before the night was through. The conversation had sparked her attention, and Petra watched Vyrli for a moment, wishing he would just drop the subject. For some reason, the thought of Zill suddenly wedding a she-wolf niggled at Petra's stomach. He was her dearest, and in some cases, only friend. The thought of losing him was almost too much to bear, and yet she knew it would happen one day. He'd find a pretty she-wolf like Teklara and then...and then...

“I will ask them when I return home. I am sure my parents would not balk at the idea of wedding me to one of the artists the Utali are renowned for.”

"Art and healing would be a harmonious bond," Petra said encouragingly, though the words felt like poison. Why? All wolves talk of marriage, so why should it bother me now that Zill is thinking of it? Maybe I don't wish for him to find the wrong she-wolf. I want him to be safe...and find someone who will love him, regardless of politics. He deserves that much at least. But then again, she did too, right?

When she was certain Zill, Vyrli, and Teklara weren't looking at her, Petra let a small frown settle on her muzzle. Stop it, she scolded herself. You are behaving like a jealous pup. Even when he's mated, he will still be your friend, and should you marry before him, you will still be his friend. That calmed some of the ache in her stomach, but not all of it. Petra pushed the emotions aside and let a calm expression settle on her face instead.

Hoping to steer the topic in a slightly different direction she asked, "What can you tell us of Thallek's family, brother? I have heard that he has children. Are they betrothed as well?" A simple question. It would allow her to know more about the ruling family before actually meeting them.

Teklara glanced behind her shoulder at Zill and Petra. Her expression didn't change when she noticed Petra's paw on Zill's back, but when she turned back around, she had a playful smile on her face. She leaned over, whispering her clan's language in Vyrli's ear. He would know it, but Zill and Petra would most likely have trouble understanding them, if they heard anything at all.

"Celo hah'nara asa sey kepra, mon'yave, ora theta's nulbra," or "Be mindful of your answer, my love, and their hearts." Teklara winked then hummed merrily to herself.

Petra eyed Teklara suspiciously, having only caught the word "mon'yave." After a moment, she shook her head and shrugged. Most likely she was just reminding Vyrli of some information about the family, and yet, Petra wasn't completely satisfied with that answer.

ooc: heh, hope that works. I'm liking Teklara more and more already.

[Bowen Lark]

Zill watched the subtle displays of affection between Vyrli and Teklara and felt a surge of envy. He was glad for them too – how often did a betrothal become a love match? – but there was a tinge of pain in his heart as the Mezaric she-wolf nuzzled her mate-to-be. Zill had played courting games before, enjoying the heat of infatuation, but he had never come so far as wanting to tell a she-wolf his truename. In accordance with Zjolan beliefs, a wolf’s truename could only be made public after he was married. To divulge it was a sign of deep trust and love – a Zjolan’s truename was a piece of his spirit, kindled with all the hopes of his parents and the history of his ancestors. It was meant to be a gift between mated wolves and a tie to one another’s parents and siblings. Zill knew the truenames of his younger brothers and sister and they knew his, but he had never called them anything but the pup names they had used since birth. His own, Zill, had been the traditional pup name for firstborns in Kjer’s line. One day, eventually, he would shake off the moniker and answer to the name he had been called by in secret for his entire life.

Still, he would likely not be in love with the she-wolf who learned his truename. Love matches were not uncommon, but more common was a gradual affection and respect. His parents would try to make a match where mutual attraction could grow, but the priority would always be how the marriage benefitted the Zjolan and the she-wolf’s tribe.

Vyrli beamed under Teklara’s attention. Although handsome and intelligent and fit, the roan wolf’s fur and bookish nature were thought of as unnatural by many clan wolves. He was only average at hunting, but his deep memory and diplomatic kindness had been valuable to Thallek. And in turn, valuable to Teklara’s tribe, who had agreed to the match. He had always been resigned to the idea of not marrying at all, believing that his mixed blood and station within Lehvalek would be too much for the clans to consider. But Teklara, with her sincerity and generous understanding, had been enough to make Spring erupt in the roan wolf’s heart. He had thanked Otahera every day since for aligning their spirits.

Now, walking beside Teklara, Vyrli had to call upon every shred of discipline to keep his hand pressed against the small of her back. His duties had kept them apart for far too long...

Zill mused on Vyrli’s offer. The Utali clan were well-liked by the Zjolan – Avali had also favoured artists for their connection to the spiritworld. He thought about looking in on his mate’s woodcarving or finding her meditating on a new story, but the images were colourless to his mind’s eye.

"Art and healing would be a harmonious bond."

Zill started at the sound of Petra’s voice, doubly shaken to hear it echoing agreement for Vyrli’s suggestion. He glanced over his shoulder at the she-wolf, confusion marring his features, but looked forward again in the next breath. It was only natural that, as a friend, Petra would support him finding a mate and marrying. She would probably even come to the ceremony, like I would to hers, the grey wolf thought, suddenly feeling ill. He assumed the dark, cramped hallway to be the cause of the tightness in his belly. The thought of Petra wedding had never come up before. But she will, someday.

"What can you tell us of Thallek's family, brother? I have heard that he has children. Are they betrothed as well?”

Vyrli opened his mouth to reply when Teklara interrupted him.

"Celo hah'nara asa sey kepra, mon'yave, ora theta's nulbra."
The roan wolf quirked his head to the side and furrowed his brow, unsure of Teklara’s meaning. He knew her language fluently, but the she-wolf was speaking in nuances that had escaped him.

Ke so’sa tev, ich ni Thallek geveim bist sim.” (As you say, I do not want to give away Thallek’s secret)

Vyrli cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder with an apologetic smile. “Teklara reminds me that there are some things best kept to the meeting. But, I can tell you that Lord Thallek has two children. The son is around your age, I would say, and the daughter is three years older. Their mother, Thallek’s wife, has returned to her birth clan until summer. You will be meeting Thallek’s son and daughter at dinner.”

Zill nodded. It was common for the children of alphas to join in on important meetings. He was curious to meet with wolves that had been raised inside stone walls – how did they learn to hunt? It surprised Zill that Thallek’s wife was living with her clan. Perhaps the stone walls are not as wonderful as they would have us think, he mused.

A large shadow glanced across one of the walls. Zill looked to the side and met Romulus’ passive gaze. The brawny wolf was leaning in a doorframe. He smiled as they approached.

“May I join you, friends? It is better to wander these halls with company.”