Information


Saike has a minion!

Minion the Preod




Saike
Legacy Name: Saike


The Cream Neela
Owner: septemderon

Age: 7 years, 2 months, 2 weeks

Born: January 10th, 2017

Adopted: 7 years, 2 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: January 10th, 2017


Pet Spotlight Winner
June 28th, 2017

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 20
     
  • Defense: 17
     
  • Speed: 22
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 0
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


The Elders Scroll Skyrim - Hand

This forest is mine. Every leaf, every piece of prey, every drop of rain that falls into the streams which feed the mighty river, these are all mine. Trespass on my domain only if you put little value on your life. I will not forgive a transgression. I am woulfra, with the fleet strength of the deer, the clever cunning of the fox, and the proud and lonely soul of the wolf. I am guardian of the forest and protector of the natural order and there is no creature great or small that outranks me on the food chain.

The crackle of the underbrush and the familiar scents of wood rot and wild mushroom are reassuring as I patrol the southern border. The fear scent of the little animals that scramble for cover is gratifying. All is as it should be, until...

The scent hits me first. It is a mingling of wet fur, terror, and utter exhaustion. My lips pull back in a silent snarl. Only a fool rushes in howling and giving away their position before they are confident they can destroy the enemy they are facing. I am no fool. While there are few enemies that can do me harm, there is always the threat of Man. Man does not follow the natural order. He has no set rivalries, nor does he follow any of the mating rituals. Man is the enemy of all, a false friend to many, and a true friend to few.

This creature is not Man but neither is it Fra Spirit. The stench of mortality lingers over the canine shape. One sharp inhale tells me she is female, she is young, and she is very weak.

Her dark fur is plastered to her body. The river has rejected the offering of her life but the biting wind will not. I am content to turn away and leave her to the crawling things that purify the forest of death. Her fate is no less than she deserves for entering my domain.

Every step I take away from the transgressor weighs me down, as if she had thrown a chain around my back legs. I cannot take solace beneath interlocking branches of the trees, for the wind is whispering "Go back, you must go back." I cannot ignore the will of the forest, even when I disagree with it. Thrice I try to leave the doomed one and three times I find myself standing over her, looking down at the flank that rises less with each passage.

Finding a burial place for a body in the heart of winter is a burden I do not wish to take upon my shoulders. Perhaps she would be of more use alive than dead after all.

My powers are not limitless, but they are strong. The ritual motions and eerie cries of the Call silence even the birdsong above. The winter spirits come reluctantly, for of all the seasonal spirits, they are the hardest to summon and the hardest to hold to my will. I will take no nonsense, not when I feel like sinking my teeth into something...or someone. I hate to be a tool of the forces of nature but to turn against the will of the higher powers would be to become another dull-sensed mortal destined to rot away and be forgotten.

Three spirits appear before me in cyclones of ice, snow, and bitter cold. They mutter complaints in voices that contain the howl of wind and the gentle chime of icicles striking one another. My growl is enough to silence them.

"You will save the life of this creature. You will do so without any argument and you will waste no time with your usual tricks."

The strongest spirit rises a little higher. "It shall be done, but there is a warning..."

"Silence! Do the task and do not speak to me again."

They shrink before my strength, children before the mighty Alpha. The three spirits twirl over the dying body, sending swirls of frozen air into the eyes, the ears, the nose. Winter's Breath fills her and takes her into the air, setting her on her feet. The fur along her flanks ripples and turns white as the snow. A great blossom of ice bursts to life at the center of her chest as she gasps and takes a breath.

I want to be the first thing she sees. I stand so she cannot help noticing me, addressing her in my most majestic voice.

"What is your name, Daughter of flesh and blood?"

She stares at me blankly for a moment. When she speaks, there is no awe or even curiosity in her voice. "Iccy. My name is Iccy."

She does not cringe or even lower her head when I turn on the winter spirits with a snarl. "What have you done to her? She is worse than a child. She is totally without feelings!"

The greatest spirit bulges at the center, as if trying to form a mouth. Its mind-voice is barely a whisper of wind. "We tried to warn you. Her heart has been frozen by the forces of winter needed to save her life. Her heart is frozen. The mark of winter will never fully leave her, for it is the only thing keeping her alive. With this gift must come sacrifice. Her memories and most of her emotions were lost in the transfer. She may regain them with time. It is nothing to us." They break apart in a flurry of snowflakes and I could swear there is laughter in their parting. I allow myself one bitter howl of frustration and rage, curbing it when I realize Iccy is watching me with utter disinterest.

"Well, come on then. I can't leave you here to freeze."

She remains frozen, staring at me in a most infuriating manner. It is not the frightened look a pup offers to his mother when some frightful noise has washed over him. It is the blank stare of one who hears a command but simply doesn't care to follow it.

"I can show you a place to take shelter. Even our thick coats won't keep this wretched wind off all day."

"Why should I go with you?"

A growl builds in my chest and dies just as quickly. From any other female, these words would be a challenge to my authority. From her, they are an honest question.

"Because you will die in this forest on your own. You know nothing about life in the wild."

"Then I suppose I'll have to learn." She turns and walks away.

Anger is an itch just below my skin, fizzing through my blood and making my breath come in shallow pants. This creature owes me her life, yet she looks on me with total indifference.

Fine. Let her starve. I've obeyed the wishes of the forces of nature. Not even they can alter a living creature's free will.


next

I swear I'm not trying to find her in the days that follow. When our paths cross, it is by chance and her indifference is as strong as ever. I am in time to watch her sorry attempts at hunting and fishing. It makes me cringe to see her crouching in the brush, licking up berries that even the squirrels have rejected. It will come as no surprise that they make her sick just minutes later.

She has managed to find a cave for herself, one that is cramped but dry. The first rabbit left outside the entrance is ignored until an eagle claims it. Seeing the bird carrying away meat I worked hard for drives me into a fury that has even the old bobcat on the stony ridge quaking in fear.

The second rabbit is reduced to a few tufts of fur.

I refuse to become this she-wolf's mother. Not surprisingly, she has chosen a location that has little prey, but there are a few foragers that will do for snacks. I make it a point to hunt nearby, pretending I can't see her when she hides in the brush to watch my technique. I exaggerate every motion, showing her the stalk, the running leap, and the one-blow kill. Her first solo kill is not graceful, but it puts meat in her belly. Whatever life she led before, it was not a harsh one.

When she begins to roam in search of better hunting grounds, I watch her progress. I cannot let her sense my presence. One time when she was coming near good hunting ground, the wind betrayed me and gave her my scent. She turned away after one cold stare of contempt. She thinks she has some survival skills now and she resents any suggestion that she cannot care for herself.

She comes to the river at last, and for many days, she is satisfied with the rich variety of prey that lives next to the greatest water source in the forest. I lose track of her for a few days, for I have neglected those patrolling duties that are mine alone. There are boundaries to lay and counts to take of the prey families that settle and migrate with the passing of the seasons. Only when I am sure that all is as it should be can I return to personal interests.

Spring is coming and the waters are rising. I expect to find Iccy well-fed and content, gorging herself or lazing in the sun.

What I find instead is the she-wolf eyeing the fat geese with longing, watching their progress as they wing their way over the water to the marshes on the other side. The first few leaps are easy, giving her what seems to be a clear path to the other side.

I know what will happen if she tries to put her weight on the rotted log that finishes the bridge of stone and wood. I bound over the leaping stones, getting my teeth in her ruff as the rotten wood starts to give way. She very nearly pulls us both in with her flailing paws. I must strain and scramble to pull her back onto the safety of the rock.

She does not thank me but neither does she hurry away. She sits and licks the water from her fur, studying me through narrowed eyes. It is a long time before she speaks.

"I remember a place where the water was calm and flowers would drift down from the trees. There are faces that come when I sleep. They try to speak to me, but I cannot understand. I remember your face, but it does not belong with them. Who am I, Saike?"

"You are..." A huntress that grows in cunning every day. A creature of beauty that decorates the stones of the home cave with the first blossoms of spring. An infuriating she-wolf that keeps me tossing and snapping at nothing when sleep refuses to come. I want to tell her all of this, but I cannot bring myself to speak. She lowers her head when she realizes I will not continue.

"I am alone. I am wolf without pack, though I had one once. No, I am not even a wolf. My smell has none of the warmth of the mother's cave and when I sing, no wolf answers. I am like you yet not like you. I am wolf yet not wolf. I am alone."

I come to stand beside her, pressing the springy fur of my shoulder to hers. "You need not be alone. I will stay with you, if you only ask."

The frozen rose on her chest quivers. A single petal snaps away, breaking into a flurry of icy flakes that blow away on the wind. She looks into my eyes and away. "You are...kind. I had forgotten kindness. I cannot stay with you, though. I do not know who I am or even what I am. These are things I must learn for myself."

There is no anger in me when she leaves me again, only a deep sadness, colder than the bite of high winter.


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I see her every few days. Sometimes a full week will pass. I make no efforts to track her, though she no longer seems intent on avoiding me. She is courteous when our paths cross, but still so distant.

She grows sleek and strong with the waxing of the high spring moon. Every day she grows more beautiful. The green of the forest is a contrast to her white coat, one which causes her fur to almost glow. She finds ways to adapt, using the pale trees as camouflage where she can and learning the ways of the great elk herds. I am there to see it when she brings down a sickly old female with a bad leg.

It is the smell of so much good meat that attracts the ice bear. He did not make the crossing to the frozen lands in time and his noble bulk gives him no advantage even among the pale trees. He corners Iccy in a place where the red rock allows no escape. She stands over her kill, snarling and challenging despite the impossible situation. She has the true spirit of a woulfra and in that moment, I know I love her.

My powers give me the advantage of total silence. When I fall on the bear from above, he is taken completely by surprise. My bone-crushing jaws find a grip on his throat, one that will only slacken if he manages to kill me. He roars in surprise and agony as his life blood pours from the wound.

I have never felt more confident in my abilities. I have taken down the great ice bear with the power of my own teeth. Even for a woulfra, this is no easy task.

Then I feel the searing bite of his massive claws as his foreleg finds my hip. He thrashes and bellows as I dig my muzzle deeper into his fur, my teeth scraping bone. He does not have the strength to swipe at me again. I do not let go until I can feel the icy rising of his mortal spirit shivering and rising from his broken body.

A woulfra cannot truly die but we can suffer. My back leg will not take my weight. It will be weeks before I can run again and more weeks before I can hunt. I lay my head in a patch of clover, inhaling the rich scent of green to try to take my mind from the burning lines tracing a path up my leg. I do not even have the strength to lick the wound clean.

Iccy lays down beside me. The first few swipes of her tongue are agony but soon the gentle rhythm eases the throb. I must have fallen asleep. The crescent moon is rising when she coaxes me to my feet, taking as much of my weight as she can. Her small cave among the red stones is a more beautiful sight than a fresh kill. I slump to the earth with a groan, shivering as fever grips me in its claws. She lays down beside me, lending me her warmth.

When I wake in the morning, she is standing over me. Half the petals from the flower on her chest are missing.

"I brought you something to eat. The bear's scent has scared away most of the good prey, but these roots and berries are kinds that did not make me sick when I tried them. They are better than going a day without food."

I cannot agree with that but I do not have the strength to argue. I grimace as a particularly slimy piece of bog root slithers its way down my throat. "There are better places to forage. I may be useless for hunting, but I can be your eyes and ears. I know every part of this forest."

By day, she goes to the places I describe. By night, she lays beside me and describes the village-place where her people once sang and ate from the herds of rabbit-like creatures that were too fat, slow and abundant to fear the fangs of the predator. With every night spent at my side, more of her memory returns.

For every petal that drops, our love strengthens.

It is on the eve of high summer that the last of the petals fall. This is the day we come together to declare our bond as Alphas, the strongest love-bond to be found in nature. A tiny, six-petal flower of ice still rests over Iccy's heart, the mark of her new life that will never fall away. She is learning to reconcile the wolf she was to the woulfra she is becoming as she teaches me what it is to love another above all else.


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byNayona
byUser not found: clockery

by roar


by oneoftheplastics
Story by Pureflower

Story idea by me

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Iccy
Mate