After being pleasantly inspired, I think I'll write some KFP2 ficlets. I'll use this story here as a sort of holding place for all the short oneshots. A lot of them will probably feature Shen and the Wolf Boss.
The first ficlet is about a younger Shen and Wolf Boss in the early years of their exile.
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In a quiet moment, Lin sits at the base of a rock, whittling.
His mother had been a palace guard, but his father was a woodworker. Lin had picked up both their trades though fighting was what he seemed to have more of a knack for apparently. Still, he handles the wood in his grasp with a practiced ease—if not with the grace of a professional then at least with the skill of someone indulging in a longstanding hobby. Slowly the wood takes shape in his paws, the block slimming down to the handle of what will be a ladle.
One of the kitchen ladles broke yesterday; Lin's crafting a new one. Now that he's a general—the leader of his pack—the wolf really needn't bother himself with such trivial matters, but sometimes he likes to. Sometimes he feels too young to be a general—he's only twenty-two. After everything that's happened, sometimes a little banality is calming.
With his hands busy, his mind can think more easily without his body getting restless.
Summer in the mountains is nice, warm even. It's edging toward twilight now, and the rest of the pack is having dinner so Lin won't be missed. He can always slide in late and not be shooed away from the kitchens. One of the perks of leadership, that.
The curve of the handle is finally showing through when Lin hears the sound of someone approaching. Despite the footsteps being light, there's the clink of metal on stone, and Lin only knows of one person who has a gait like that. He looks up just as the newcomer steps around a boulder and into view. It's Shen of course.
"My lord," the wolf says formally.
"Lin," Shen replies, dispensing with the titles. "I see you are sore with me from this afternoon..."
"What makes you say that?" Lin doesn't have it in him to lie to the peacock, but he'd rather not state his assent bluntly either.
Shen sighs, moving to perch on a nearby rock. "You must understand that I have appearances to keep up."
It's an excuse not an apology so Lin says nothing in reply.
Red eyes glower. "Don't be that way. You know I value your input!"
"Just not in front of your uppercrust cohorts." The wolf so wishes for the strength not to sound bitter, but the sting still lingers from when Shen so dismissively shooed him away from this afternoon's meeting with one of their allies.
The truth is, Lin can't say he's pleased with Shen's latest associates. There are a number of warlords or other semi-noteworthies who want to curry favor with the banished prince, and Lin's wolf army has been a powerful bargaining chip. Mercenary work has gained the pack and Shen supplies as well as living quarters—such as this old mountain compound they are hunkered down in and refurbishing.
After having barely scraped by in the early days of their ignominious departure from Gongmen City, Lin understands the importance of powerful alliances, but it grates at him the way these aristocrats have so little regard of anyone not of their class. Shen isn't like that...or at least, Lin had thought he wasn't. Now, after three years in exile, the wolf is growing less sure.
The day fades as the two sit quietly, and the thoughtful and not especially companionable silence drags on until Shen finally breaks it, pulling Lin out of his own musings. "How is your ladle coming along?" the peacock asks, extending the metaphorical olive branch.
Lin looks surprised by the question though. "How did you know it's a ladle?" The piece of wood is still more than half unfinished, the spoon end not even started yet.
Shen tilts his head. "You mentioned it this morning. When you gave me the reports, you also said you'd found a good block of wood for a replacement ladle and were thinking about carving it yourself." Shen's expression shifts into a teasing grin as he adds knowingly, "Oh, I see, did you think I wasn't listening?"
Lin tries and fails not to look sheepish. How is it that his companion can shift around the dynamic of a conversation so well? An enviable skill.
"I pay attention when you speak, don't ever doubt that." The peacock sighs, folding his wingtips into his wide sleeves and trying to look more serene. More adult.
There's still no apology, but in the past few years, Lin has slowly come to stop expecting them. For now the apologetic tone to Shen's voice is good enough, and the wolf smiles a little in spite of himself. "I'll try harder to remember that, my friend."
And when Shen smiles too at the word 'friend', Lin can almost convince himself that nothing has changed between them.
~fin
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Author notes: Kind of a bittersweet fic. After I watched Kung Fu Panda 2 a couple times, I started to think that maybe Shen and the Wolf Boss had been close friends when they were younger. My head-canon suggests that despite pushing everyone else away, Shen might have continued to be friends with the Wolf Boss for awhile, but in the face of his ambition, Shen stops caring for anybody but himself. I see their friendship as a slow deterioration over the years until it's lost all its warmer feelings: Shen regards his general as just another servant/pawn, and the Wolf Boss stays with Shen out of habit and perhaps some lingering salute to the relationship the two once had.
Okay, that's sad... I promise some of the stories in here will be "happier". Maybe.
Also, "Lin" is, of course, the name I picked out for the Wolf Boss. The specific character I'm using would mean "forest" which seemed to lend itself rather well to a wolf.
