Disclaimer: I do not own Wolf's Rain.
Summary: A corner of the world, untouched and uncorrupted. It was Perfection... but was it Home? Somewhat Tsume centric. Oneshot
AN: Please feel free to offer suggestions to help me improve this oneshot. :)
The sun's rays spread over the sky unhindered, painting the clouds a powerful red. It was a deep color that, in winter, reminded its observers of hot blood flowing down throats and settling into welcoming stomachs, warming the being from the inside. Despite this imagery being one of feral cruelty, the nature of the wolf found it to be comforting. Winter brought cold and starvation, and the only red that existed in its icy wake was that of blood – of life. Even the sunrise and sunset was somehow dimmer, colder.
This particular sunrise was the color of the changing leaves that sparkled with the dew of morning. It spilled over the horizon like a celebration of the season of dimming life, like a phoenix constructing its colorful nest at the dawn of rebirth. The winter that followed would put life to a bitter standstill, yet the spring that came after would make it all the more beautiful and fulfilling.
The scent of dew and pine drifted and mingled, complimenting the still and silent forest with the truest aura of uncorrupted nature. How could such a haven exist in an unforgiving world? It was untouched and pure. The wolves might have mistaken it for an illusion – something concocted by a hopeful, starved mind – a wish based on a false memory and a hope of what was to come. Yet such beauty was something that they have never previously experienced, and a memory could never live up to. It could also not be based on description, for even the most trained mind could not have created something so wonderful out of mere words.
This is now, thought Tsume. This is here. I do not need anything else.
They were entranced. They feared that it was an illusion. It felt real, tangible. And yet…
"This is wrong," whispered Kiba. The wind carried his words away and scattered his voice over the forest. "I smell the forest. I sense the purity. And as real as it is, it is not Home." Home was far away from here. It felt like miles, years, though such a distance stretched beyond the physical and could not be measured. How far would they have to distance themselves from the cores of their own beings to reach it? How much would they have to change, to steel themselves, to strengthen? Was the promise of salvation worth it? In the end they may emerge as bitter warriors, but such strength could only be derived of pain.
"We can make it our Home," replied Hige. "It's perfect." His eyes danced. The landscape entranced him with its subtle promises. The deer scent that rode the winds offered sustenance.
"Do you want perfection, or do you want fulfillment?" Kiba asked calmly.
"Fulfillment is far away from here. We may never reach it."
"But we can try. And trying may be enough to kill the longing. Or would you rather stay and battle the calling for the rest of your life?"
It was a heart wrenching prospect. But what is 'Home?' Tsume asked himself. Is it the fields of lunar flowers that drift over our dreams? Is it safety? Long ago, the gray wolf had never meditated on the prospect of Home. Only survival mattered. His birthplace was a faded memory, yet it was just as dirty and degrading as the city in which he lived previously. It was wrestled from the wilderness and conquered by humanity.
To Kiba, Home was the future. His future would be what he shaped it into, and he adamantly struggled to carve it into Paradise. He tried to settle the stirring of his blood by reaching the place where he belonged, where their kin could live unobstructed by the corruption of the world. And while they traversed through the scorching deserts and numbing blizzards, all the while swaying them into black nothingness and urging them to sleep forever, the thought of Paradise always urged him to get unto his unfeeling paws; to stand and walk. Day by day, season by season, until he reached his Home.
Two nights passed. Adequately rested in this small forest of bliss, the pack moved on. Hard, bitter rain pelted them in the bare fields that followed, as if punishing them for leaving behind the offer of a better life. Because you'll never reach what you seek, the cold droplets whispered as they hissed through the air. You have left behind the gift that the gods granted, and they shall never offer it again.
The wolves huddled together, sharing warmth and companionship. The icy wind and water racked their bodies and numbed their senses. Control seeped away as the wolves surrendered to nature, hoping that the morning would bring warmth.
Hige looked wondering, almost regretful. The forest that they had left behind has long faded into the mist, and the welcoming scent of dew and pine was but a dream. Yet Kiba's adamant gaze seemed to calm him, promising. Someday.
A glance to the side revealed to Tsume the curled pup, his back resting against the older wolf and shifting with each breath. His side was warm, his presence real. Toboe had not seemed as attached to the blissful forest as Hige had been, nor had he been as eager to leave as Kiba. The alpha's promise of fulfillment sparked some interest in his young eyes, and yet it was not the words he spoke that evoked such a reaction. It was the way they had stood in a circle – listening, commenting, breathing together. Wolves, kin, pack. Was this feeling – this warmth and complete acceptance and belonging – what Home truly was? And as Tsume watched the pup sleep, he realized that this – be it in Paradise or in an unforgiving blizzard – was enough to make him feel fulfilled.