A late pact

[Laeonathan 5889]

 

A late pact

Of Gakh’Lur & Faraknar

☽ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻☠︎︎⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ ☾ 

☽ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻☠︎︎⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ ☾ 

17th of Sun’s Smile, 217 S.A.

Grakh’s heavy feet stepped through the unforgiving desert surrounding Lurakhan. For a moment, he bent down to touch the searing sand beneath him. He knew it would be burning, but he did it regardless. Steadily, the sand trickled through his hand. As he stood there, in a small valley within the desert, his mind was racing.

It was customary for Lurs to bond with their Wolves from childhood. This tradition had been upheld for many generations, yet Gakh had never gotten his part. He had arrived with his father, Bakhu, at the Horde when he was thirteen years old. By then, he had already given up on the idea of finding one of his own from the pack.

But that wasn’t what truly occupied his mind this day – his father was gone now. He had left the Horde behind to go on a pilgrimage without saying anything to him. Not a single piece of advice. No, Bakhu was just gone. It did not surprise him, yet he followed him into the desert, hoping to find him and bring him back to reason. The hot sun did not bother him, and even if it had, his hood protected him. He pulled it down further to shield himself from the heat.

He was far too lost in thought to hear them approach – ironically so, for a Hunter of Clan Lur.

Humans. Three of them. There was no time to guess who they were or what their intentions might be. He did his best to draw his axe from his belt to repel the incoming strike. Miraculously, he managed it, but only had time for a quick breath before the next spear was hurled toward him. It was impossible to prevent them from encircling him. His pride did not allow him to flee, nor was there any chance of escape. Slowly, they pressed him further against the large rocks.

Then, the howl could be heard.

From above, a lone Lurwolf emerged, quickly ripping out the throat of one of the attacking humans. At first, he thought it to be a Direwolf – but no, it was not. Both he and the remaining bandits stood there in shock for a second. He was the first to recover and realize he was no longer outnumbered – and certainly not outmatched. A swift strike from his axe cut down the next startled bandit, while the last tried to flee, only to be quickly caught by the wolf. It jumped and bit deep into the neck of the fleeing coward. For a few seconds, the man struggled, but he soon lay dead in the desert too.

At last, Gakh turned to the Lurwolf. His heart pounded – would it attack him too, or bind itself to him? Was it a stray? Something darker? What, even, would one be doing outside the pack? The Lurwolf began circling him. It came closer, but showed no hostile intent. No – somehow, it had deemed him worthy. He thought himself weak, yet the wolf did not.

They looked at each other in silence, broken only after a minute.

“Mi shall name lat Faraknar,” he said with determination.

The Lurwolf did not protest in any way. It was settled, then. The young Lur had found his Wolf at last.

That day, Gakh’Lur returned to the city, riding atop Faraknar.

☽ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻☠︎︎⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ ☾