Information

Chemukh has a minion!

Fearless the Telerok

Chemukh
Legacy Name: Chemukh

The

Angelic Telenine
Owner:

Faune

Age: 19 years, 2 months, 4 days

Born: January 13th, 2007

Adopted: 19 years, 2 months, 4 days ago (Legacy)

Adopted: January 13th, 2007 (Legacy)

Pet Spotlight Winner
June 12th, 2025

Statistics

Level: 54
Strength: 132
Defense: 40
Speed: 37
Health: 50
HP: 50/50
Intelligence: 303
Books Read: 285
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Professional Lab Cleaner

Chemukh (cha-MUCK)
Chemukh-Chemukh Ayet
Nez Perce for "Black Lassie".

"Chemukh was so shy and submissive and was having such a difficult time assimilating into the pack that we thought she would more than likely assume the omega female position. In the first few weeks of 1996, she was still a timid little wolf, the last to eat and the first to be picked on.
As January came to a close, things changed abruptly, as though a switch had been flipped inside Chemukh’s head. Her competitive instinct kicked into high gear, and she decided that it was time to assert herself. Wyakin seemed completely confused by Chemukh’s sudden aggression, for although she had been the more dominant of the two, her overall disposition was really quite sweet and gentle. Chemukh, on the other hand, was dead serious."

Living with wolves

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There was soft white sunlight filtering through the window, small particles of dust and who knows what else drifting in the beams like organic and arguably icky glitter. I let the light warm my face as I lifted my thoughts from the vague shapes and colors of the dream before opening my eyes fully. Rolling my shoulders as I rose, I leaned back deeply into my haunches then extended forward until my chin pointed directly up. A curve, arch, and serpentine wiggle melted away the stiffness; and an extension then flick of both wings completed my ritualistic post-nap stretch.

I could hear the rhythmic scratching of pen on paper, and knew she was in the loft writing with … flowing inspiration. Her disciplined writing was slower with more pauses, and her focused writing had shorter, harder strokes. This writing - the rapid pace and fluid continual lines - was almost like desperation. It was the writing of one who felt they had been struck by and grabbed hold of something important, something with meaning, and they had to pour it out upon the nearest piece of paper lest it escape and be forever gone. It was the writing I tended to hear during her meditative devotional time, and at odd hours when one would think writing was out of place such as in the middle of a meal or activity.

Though I would usually find her first upon waking, I preferred to bide my time before greeting her when she was in this state. I knew she would shift focus if I approached, even as she continued to try and get the words out, she would surrender part of herself back to the present so she could scratch the think fur of my neck and smile at me in the way she always did when greeting me – be it after days apart or after a brief nap – with burning adoration. It was best for her to be able to stay in this place, to finish finding the words that felt like gifts. I would find her soon, but first I would find my brother.

I padded through the cabin on large, quiet paws. The sunlight warmed the russet and brown wood, casting a soft reddish glow about the room. Last I had left him, brother was stretched across one side of the l-shaped couch before the unlit stone fireplace snoring in that endearing way of his – smooth edges to the sound, with a back and forth flow like ocean waves. No longer though, I found the open living space was devoid of other creatures. Like me, he had his rituals. While my waking was always followed by seeking out and checking on the others, his was followed with basking in the nature outside, contemplating things he had seen in his dreams and scanning the perimeter with a sharp eye and quick mind.

I nudged the door open with my muzzle and found him exactly where I expected, sitting on our large, wrap-around deck just beyond the reach of the green metal roof. Beyond the hand-crafted railings was thick forest, lush with evergreens and ferns. The songs of birds and rustles of life moving about the leaves and undergrowth filled my ears – a melody we all cherished. The mid-morning sun kissed my brother’s wings and danced along the tips of his dense coat, giving him a heavenly glow. His eyes remained closed, but his right ear flicked slightly back as I approached, letting me know he had heard me.

“Good morning sister” he said warmly before he turned his deep, cool eyes on me; they were the color of a stormy sea, but held the calm of a windless day. I leaned my shoulder into his as I sat beside him, an affectionate and instinctive greeting for both our species. Brother felt as much like home as she did, and even more like home than the cabin and woods I knew like I knew myself. Thick as thieves, she always called us.

We had been since the first moment; since the late winter morning years ago when mother had carried me - a small pup with a coat of azure blue and a shy streak – into our cabin and set me before him. He was barely older than me, sky blue with those wise eyes and a welcoming smile. It took no convincing for any of us, we were family and somehow always had been, even before we were here to play our parts. And oh the stories – lived and written – that dance and sing in the time between then and now. The cold winters nestled together before a roaring fire in the hearth, the spring days rolling down hills in the meadow and trying to count how many different colors of wildflower had bloomed that year, the hot summers spent diving into the cold lake and basking on the sandy shore, and the cool autumns that brought fur-ruffling breezes and gentle evenings.

He was summer, deep and warm.
I was winter, fierce and quiet.
She was spring, laughter and passion.
And together we were autumn – thoughtful, complete, and ever-changing.

My brother’s thick tail began to thump heavily on the warm wooden deck, bringing my mind from its wandering. I did not need to listen for myself to know what he had heard, this particular swish and thump was reserved for only one other. We were already on our feet and moving before the door was fully open, and there she was – eyes bright and smile wide,

“hello my babies.”

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Credits
Chemukh Art by