I spun and slashed upward with my long sword, my black hair, streaked with gold, flying behind me. "Very good, Sivvet." my teacher, Tennebren said, a tad breathlessly as he parried my blow and drove me backward in a flurry of flashing steel. My guardsmen and best friend since I was three, Mendres, sighed and gave a rather rueful smile from the sidelines. I wasn't entirely certain he had the confidence that I wouldn't run off somewhere to practice my sword work in a place that was either unsuitable or dangerous. Stalwart and tall, he had the heavy black eyes of a grey wolf, and the tiny brushings of down at the back of his neck, underneath his mahogany hair were indeed steel grey, businesslike and not uncommon, although his was unusually dark.
Tennebren, on the other hand, was the polar opposite of my almost-brother. His eyes were pale, as pale as the milk our cows gave, although with a bit of blue tinge. The fur, like his heavy mane of hair, was of the purest white, a rarity among wolves, and certainly a dangerous color when one was attempting to stay hidden. But he was not only the oldest loup I knew, he was the strongest and most intelligent, although he could have a mysterious, brooding side that often made me want to throw him in the lake.
It was Tennebren's sword that broke my concentration, rising finally to kiss its cold steel edge to my throat after two hours of sparring. "You have improved much, Sivvet," he said gravely, "But you must learn not to drift off into your own thoughts." I bowed, my luminous green eyes lowered. "Yes, sir." I said quietly, sheathing my finely wrought sword in the sheath at my hip. Mendres put his hand on my shoulder to steer me away. "You are improving, Sivvy." he told me quietly, using my childhood nickname. "But Tennebren is right. For the sake of my job, and your own life, will you please try to be more careful?" I smirked. "Of course I'll try, but I cannot make guarantees, Menny." I answered coolly, using his own nickname. "You know that. It's me we are speaking of." Mendres sighed. "Let's go back into the den, then, shall we?" I obliged willingly; I wanted to speak to my mother.
I found her in a relative state of distress. She was arguing loudly with her advisor, who looked both pained and a bit scared. I touched my mother's shoulder and pulled her gently away. "Mama," I greeted her. "How are you?" She looked at me, her eyes, the same liquid metal as mine, were sad. "Sivvy…" she began, tailing off. "The time has come." My heart seemed to drop into my stomach. "You mean I have to go?" I answered hesitantly. "Yes, Sivvy." She sighed deeply. "The avian and serpiente people are closing in on our boundaries. It is time for you to go to them and ask for their respect."
My heart seemed to drop into my stomach, as I struggled to compose myself. The loup did not have such strict codes of blankness as the avian people once did. Our customs did not ask us to hide our emotions; however, the royalty was expected to be calm at all times, and to present themselves with a strong sense of authority, as a wild, true alpha wolf would. "Sivvet, my daughter, you will not be alone. You will bring Mendres with you, and whom ever else he deems worthy to accompany you. If the serpiente and avian people have any sense of what is good for them, they will welcome you with hospitality, even if it is grudging." I nodded, but I was too overcome with apprehension, even nerves, to speak. "You leave in the morning, beloved." She whispered to me. "And I wish you well."