A Tale of Yonder…
"Faolan, Faolan!" Faolan lifted his head from the moose pelt he was resting on.
This was long after the Time of the Wolves, when he and the surviving wolves from the collapsed Ring of Fire headed for the Distant Blue, and he and Edme, his mate, were old and grizzled, with two litters of grandpups.
"Faolan!" his grandpup yipped.
"Why, hello there," he said. His eyes, although old and wary, was still luminescent and full of light.
Kinnard, his eldest grandpup yipped, "Faolan! Faolan! Tell us story!"
"Yes, yes!" his youngest grandpup, Genna, yapped excitedly.
"Why you little!" Edme, his mate yowled. "For Lupus's sake, leave your grandpa alone! He's tired and trying to sleep!"`
"It's alright, they want a story," he rumbled, amused.
"Alright… how about a non-fiction story?" he offered.
"Doesn't non-fiction mean real? Auntie Gwynneth told me about that." Genna rolled around on the floor spastically.
"Yes, yes," Edme sighed exasperated.
"Well…. Once upon a time…."
There was a wolf-mother. She knew this birth would not be the same. She sought out a whelping den, far from her clan. She concealed her scent, left almost nothing behind.
But, she left wispy threads of her silver fur, betraying her presence. She birthed in a fox's den, hoping the scent would conceal her. It didn't.
She had three pups, two tawny, and one silver. The silver had a slightly splayed paw, with the dim swirl patterns on his paw pads.
The mother hoped that the toes would curl in. No, he was not a malcadh, cursed, he was not. He suckled strongly.
But, the Obea tracked them down. The Obea had no rank, she was a strange wolf. She was sterile, and could not bear pups.
She took the silver pup away, to set him on his tummfraw, or where a malcadh, a cursed one, would be left to die.
She set him down on a ledge of a frozen river's bank; the river was beginning to thaw, the pup would be washed away, to his Death.
"That's horrible!" Genna cried, interrupting Faolan's tale.
"Hush child!" Edme cuffed the pup.
Kinnard snickered.
Faolan cleared his throat, and continued.
At the very same night, a grizzly mother lamented her grief into the night. Her single, and last, cub was taken by cougars.
Her great body shook with grief. A dark sodden clot hung to her leg.
She tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't come off. 'It' was some kind of pup. It had lovely green eyes, and she looked at the sky. She thought that Ursa, the heavenly being for bears, was sending her a message.
She seeked death, he seeked life.
The young pup's will to survive even astonished the bravest, most hardy wolves when they heard of his story.
"But Faola-an!" Kinnard whined, "You said that this is a real story! No wolf pup would've been taken in by a bear! That's impossible!"
"Kinnard, this is a true story," Faolan said gently.
"Hush dear, let your grandfather tell his story," Edme nudged the young pup.
The great bear's heart beat was a great booming sound, strong, sure, and a thunderous sound. Hence, the young wolf named her, Thunderheart.
She raised him how a bear cub would've been raised; he ate plants, and could jump and walk on his hind legs. His chest was broader than others, and he was stronger than any wolf.
"Wow!" Genna cried, "That's amazing!"
"Oh, be quiet!" Kinnard cuffed Genna, "This isn't a real story!"
"It is a real story, dear, now please hush," Edme corrected.
Faolan continued.
As the year went by, winter came. Bears, this being a strange custom, would hibernate. They would go into a deep sleep until winter passed, not waking up.
This pup would go out to hunt, but one day, Thunderheart woke up. In her dazed state, she forgot that she said he could go out while she slept. She went out to find the pup, and was killed by a boulder avalanche, the after effects of an earthquake.
Naturally, the young wolf was devastated to find that she was gone, missing, and later he would find her bones, the remains of her body, but for the time being, he went on a petty quest for revenge, thinking it would bring her back.
He set off to kill a cougar.
"He must've really loved his mum," Genna said thoughtfully.
Kinnard snorted into the dirt.
Edme swatted him lightly on his ear with her paw.
When he killed it, he realized that this will not bring back his mother.
He began to live his life as a loner, witnessing the cannibalism of the Outclanners.
Outclanners simply had no rank, no clan, rogues, with no laws or rules. They did not follow wolf traditions at all, and were cannibalistic, the worst of the worst.
But, he found the Cave before Time. The cave had painting, depicting everything that happened since the beginning of time. Each night, he would stay awake to try to decode the meanings. He saw King Hoole's legacy, Coryn and the Band fighting against Nyra and the Pure ones. He needed not any food; he simply fed upon the stories told upon the Cave's walls.
One fateful night, he was walking through, looking for something aimlessly. He saw something white on the horizon, and saw a majestic grizzly bear's skull, gleaming in the night. He realized it was his dear Thunderheart's bones.
He picked up one of her paw bones as a Masked Owl, named Gwynneth, swooped down and invited him to her forge; she was a Rogue Smith, a blacksmith who works for no one.
At her forge, he learned the truth why Thunderheart left the den; because when she woke he was gone. She had gone out to find him.
He was astonished, speechless, of his thoughtless actions. He should've stayed, because in her dazed state, she must've forgotten what she had told him, and ventured out in her vulnerable state.
Gwynneth told him, he should go back to his clan, and become a gnaw wolf.
Gnaw wolves were the lowest rank of all wolves, all of them malcadhs that have survived and made it back to the clan. They would gnaw stories upon bones.
The wolf-now grown- begged to stay with her, but she firmly said no. He began his journey back to the clan. He buried Thunderheart's paw bone on a hill.
Meanwhile-
"What happens next? When will this story end?" Kinnard interrupted.
"Shhh!" Genna squeaked, "I want to hear what's next!"
Faolan chuckled.
Meanwhile, in the wolf clans, a wolf discovered a wolf's paw print, and saw that one paw was splayed. The sign of a wolf infected with the foaming-mouth disease.
Immediately, the Chieftains of all the wolf clans met, with the Sark of the Slough.
The Sark was a strange wolf. She had a normal colored pelt, but multicolored eyes.
One eye was the true color of the wolves of the beyond, a bright green that was normal.
The other was a skittish eye that seemed to have a mind of its own, and was an unusual hue of amber.
The Sark agreed to help kill this rabid wolf by using her knowledge of fire. They would drive the wolf into a wall of fire.
The poor wolf was chased into the wall of fire, but did the unthinkable.
He jumped over the wall of fire.
After that, the Sark yelled at the Chieftains for being fools, since this wolf only had one splayed paw, not all four.
The Chieftain of the MacDuncan rose and asked the young wolf if he would join back into the clan the young wolf was born in.
He agreed, and officially became a MacDuncan.
Faolan took a deep breath as he finished his story.
Both pups had fallen asleep in a small pile of fur, breathing steady.
Edme sighed as she surveyed the young pups, so full of fire, and settled down next to her grizzled mate.
"You said that that was a true story. Who was 'the wolf'?" she questioned.
"Me." Faolan's eyes sparkled.