"Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky,
And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back;
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.
Wash daily from nose tip to tail tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting and forget not the day is for sleep.
The jackal may follow the tiger, but, cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the wolf is a hunter—go forth and get food of thy own.
Keep peace with the lords of the jungle, the tiger, the panther, the bear;
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the boar in his lair.
When pack meets with pack in the jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken; it may be fair words shall prevail.
When ye fight with a wolf of the pack ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel and the pack is diminished by war." -Rudyard Kipling
He was ten and he was happy. His uncle had taken him to hunt, and his best friend had come with them. It was his first long one, and they were gone for days. Every snare he laid caught a rabbit, and his uncle let him try at his bow. He was still too scrawny to pull it straight, nearly succeeding in smacking himself in the face. Sulahn laughed at him so Mahanon shoved him into a snowbank.
It was good, until Sulahn accidentally caught a frozen tree on fire. Mahanon's uncle had looked sad then. When they returned to the clan, everything changed. Sulahn was magic.
He was thirteen and his mother told him he was not to spend time with Sulahn anymore. He was to pick a girl from the clan. Start preparing to be a man. He didn't understand it, so he didn't listen. It was Sulahn who forced him away. Mahanon didn't understand that either, so he gave him a gift. A knife with the handle of a wolf. Trying to preserve their past, let Sulahn know he didn't care about the future. They would be together if he had any say in the matter. The Keeper and his mother watched them from afar, but he didn't notice. Sulahn smiled again.
He was sixteen and somehow everything fell apart. His mother sickened, falling in battle, the first and only time Mahanon could remember. He made his first kill in her defense. He received his vallaslin, making her so proud for the first time in a long time. But the wasting illness continued to weaken her. His strong, prideful mother who would never accept him the way he was, died.
He was twenty and spending as little time as possible with the clan. Days or weeks on the trail ahead of them, finding whatever solace he could in the human taverns that would let him in the door. He was a disappointment to his clan and to Sulahn. Yet, somehow, Sulahn still saw something in him. Tried to call him home again. Even when Mahanon told him not to follow...
It was snowing, and he was tired. This deer had led him far too north of the clan. The cold snap was wholly unexpected this close to the Tevinter border. He crept forward, stalking the creature. One last shot, that was all he needed. Then he could return to camp and then to the clan. Rest and then move out again. One last shot and-
Crunch crunch crunch.
The deer bolted at the heavy steps. Mahanon cursed long and loud in every language he knew before turning to see Sulahn. The First didn't even try to look guilty. He just seemed angry, as he always was with Mahanon these days. Mahanon started stalking back to his camp, bumping shoulders with Sulahn as he brushed past him. He pulled the flask from his hip and drank deeply, letting the fire of the liquid burn through him.
"Is that brandy?"
Mahanon shook the flask at him. "Want some?"
"Dirthara ma. You need to come home."
"Well, thanks to you, I have nothing to bring home. Therefore, I am not coming home."
Sulahn cursed again as Mahanon walked away. That was his mistake, turning his back on a mage. A tingling feeling spread over his legs and he was suddenly unable to move them.
"Fenedhis! Dread Wolf take you!"
The First chuckled and as Mahanon tried to break his legs free. "Don't struggle it'll just make it worse."
He grabbed the flask from Mahanon and drank himself, stepping out of Mahanon's reach as he did. He made a face, looking into it with one eye before dumping the rest into the snow.
"Where do you even find this stuff?"
"Has anyone ever told you what an utter bastard you are?"
Sulahn shrugged. "I'll let you go if you stop running from me."
"I am a grown man, I can handle myself. I don't need you fetching me like an errant pup."
"Well if you don't want to be treated like an errant pup, quit acting like one. Come home."
"To what?"
Sulahn tilted his head. "Me."
"Creators." Mahanon sighed, testing the spell again. "Fine. Release me and I promise I won't run off."
"Good." Sulahn waved his hand and Mahanon was free.
He then took a step closer to Mahanon. Mahanon felt his lips twitch and let Sulahn inch closer, before grabbing his robes and pulling him close enough their noses almost touched.
"Hello stranger."
Sulahn snorted and shook his head, stepping back before Mahanon could kiss him. "You are not getting off that easily."
Mahanon opened his mouth and Sulahn held up his hand.
"Yes yes, getting off. Come on it is far too cold for this."
"You're really making me return home empty handed? What will Deshanna say?"
Sulahn rolled his eyes. "As if you care. Shall we?"
"Fine f-"
Mahanon froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Never in his life had he ignored his gut, and he knew he shouldn't know. Sulahn paused, looking back at him.
"Do you hear that Sulahn?"
"…No?"
The birds had stopped singing, that was it. Even in the chill, they had been loud up until a few moments before. Mahanon drew his bow and knocked an arrow. He could hear it now, dogs. Humans were coming.
"Sulahn hide in the forest. Whatever you do don't use your magic."
"Mahanon-"
He growled. "Now! While I'm talking run back to the clan."
"I won't leave you here."
Mahanon wanted to kiss and throttle him and the same time. "Do you trust me?"
"You know I do."
The dogs were baying now, scenting them. "Then you have to go. Leave no trace. Go."
Sulahn shook his head but turned on his heel. "Ma'arlath."
"And I you. Leave!"
He ran then and Mahanon was alone. It wasn't for long. The humans crested the hill, bundled up in furs and looking gigantic. The dogs went mad as they surged towards him, forming a ring of three. He let his lips curl up, baring his teeth, but kept his eyes on the humans. One of them stepped forward, and by the Creators if they didn't all look exactly alike some days.
"Lower your weapon rabbit. We don't want to hurt you."
Mahanon snorted. "Call off your dogs and I won't loose this arrow."
"You can't kill all of us."
"True."
Mahanon didn't lower his bow. He could see the dogs inching forward. The shem went for his belt and Mahanon let the arrow fly. It hit its mark, killing the leader. One dog, a mabari, latched onto his arm. He managed to free a dagger with his left hand, driving it into the dog's skull and freeing it as the other ones came at him. His right arm was useless, dripping blood into the snow. He heard it steam before the other two dogs attacked at once. They were smaller, mutts, and none too bright. He got one on the throat and the other across the leg before they got too close. It was pathetic, limping as it circled him. A soft thing. It leapt anyways and Mahanon buried his dagger into its jugular.
He was losing a lot of blood, starting to shake. Still, he pulled the dagger out, and forced his right hand to grip a second as the two humans left circled him. It gave him a twisted sort of pleasure to see their friend lay dead in the snow, arrow sticking out of a bloody eye. He grinned, seeing one of the humans stop himself from taking a step back. They didn't see or didn't care he could barely hold his weapons. Once more they attacked at once. He got the one on the left, who lowered his guard and got a gash across his belly for the effort. Turned out he had underestimated the one on the right, who had spotted his weakness and hit his wound as hard as he could. His dagger dropped from nerveless fingers, and he sank to his knees.
Still, he got his second dagger into the man's calf. Right before the man grabbed his throat and clubbed him in the head with the hilt of his sword.