[ P ] This Is the Beginning of the Rest of Your Life

Summit Hiram Eithne


Autumn had rushed by in a blur of crimson and gold. Word of the war’s end had reached his family in Aberdeen. His clan was a rarity, for they had not gotten involved in the battles, and had thus come out unscathed, when many others had been decimated or destroyed. With the danger gone, the boy had been roaming the Highlands to meet others, all while still searching for his baby sister. No one seemed to know of the lost child, but Summit's commitment never wavered. He would find Daisy, even if it took a lifetime.

But the days were growing shorter, and the darkness of encroaching winter brought a bitter cold that seemed to chill a wolf right through his shaggy coat. Summit recalled last winter as being cold, but this was something else entirely. With the difficulty of the season came challenges: it was harder to hunt in the snow, if one could find something to hunt in the first place. Prey was scarce, and what could be found was lean and wiry.

Summit himself was growing more thin, though the difference was hardly perceptible on his enormous frame. And he was a giant, one who never seemed to stop growing. As his second birthday approached, Summit was at his final height. He was taller, more muscular than his father. A brute of a wolf, albeit a gentle one.

Today, his merciful nature was stronger than any instinct to sate his growling stomach. Before him sat a small squirrel, still young, with an injured paw held midair. Summit had found the unfortunate creature trapped within a hollow log. Much to the squirrel’s distress, the wolf used a forepaw to reach in and scoop the smaller animal out of its snowy cage. The squirrel attempted to flee, but could only stumble in the snow, earning a sympathetic frown from the predator. It seemed wrong to destroy something so helpless. And so, despite the gnawing hunger, Summit couldn’t do it.

”It’s alright. I won’t eat you.” A huge paw extended toward it, inviting the squirrel to jump onto. Understandably, the squirrel was hesitant to accept this help, but seemed to acknowledge that its choices were otherwise limited. Once it had tentatively climbed aboard, Summit lifted the squirrel to a hollowed knot in a tree where it would be warm and safe to recover. ”Here.”

The squirrel settled into its new surroundings, chittering gratefully as Summit stepped away. ”Just be careful out there.” Mismatched eyes turned toward the west as the sun was slinking away from its zenith, and a sigh escaped his lungs, warm breath visible against the freezing air in a wisp of cloud. The forest of Perth loomed around him, dark, lovely and mysterious. A scent on the freezing breeze alerted the giant – he was no longer alone. Another of his kind was near.



@Raith

template by bean

Song title inspiration: The Beginning by RuPaul -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IKboP7JhA0

He limped along the skirts of where he had called home more so when he was but a pup but it had grown more a home again after failing so greatly in the war and losing his warrior status. Reduced down to just a recruiter, a proponent but it was something that at least allowed him to visit the rest of his family while they remained a fighting force. It was something. It gave him more time to talk to the fae, try to center himself while his Father breathed hot disappointment, that he was sure. He had stopped caring about living up to what his father wanted him to be, the chieftain he failed at being but it would never truly fade from his mind. That desire for acceptance had its coils around him forever and always when it came to his father, it was too ingrained in him not to. Approval could never be won.

There was a desire to go do something more productive, like hunt for the family. Actually that was an idea. Feeding them could be just as important as serving beside them, keeping them healthy. If not for all of them, at least for his mother, hoping she was close to fully recovered now. Taking in a breath, it was just as though it was yesterday when she had come back malnourished and broken, all because he couldn’t run. Glancing back at his leg, he let out an agitated sigh as his leg continued to hang like a limp noodle, not listening to his brain at all to get it to walk in unison with his other stems. He had lost weight himself trying his hardest to regain mobility. Less to carry on three legs made it easier but it didn’t fix his problems of tripping on his own limp to it getting stuck in roots if he wasn’t careful.

He wanted to just chop it off, free himself of this torture but he couldn’t do it in a way that could allow him to live afterwards. Unless magic decided to be kind to him, he would surely bleed out in every way he could think of.

Shaking his head, he would continue on his way, inching closer and closer toward the sound of what might be prey, though being quiet was proving difficult. The snow was just as bad as fallen leaves, crunching under his steps. He needed to work on his stealth too it would seem.

The sound of larger paws and a voice of a wolf would make him pause, his ears turning upwards, taking in familiar tones. It was more filled out, so to speak, more mature than he remembered but the fragrance that hit his nose would prove his suspicions correct. “Frog pup….cry,” he muttered loud enough to be heard in archaic sounding common tongue, doing his best to sound normal but it didn’t come out quite right. Tilting his head, he would remain out of sight, out of touch as he moved closer to the underbrush. He was honestly surprised the stranger was still around, assuming the war would have eaten him alive yet the peaks he could see past the wilted foliage dotted in snow, he appeared fairly healthy.

How will he like being called a frog?

code: elyon | art: pixel

His heart beat more rapidly with every second that ticked away as he scanned the underbrush. Summit was aware that he was not alone, but whoever it was remained hidden. The scent of pine was tinged with a distinctly Highlander scent, and while Summit wasn’t necessarily afraid, he had learned how to be cautious. After the war, so many were suspicious, but the Eithne boy held no animosity for anyone; usually, his placid nature put others at ease rather than enticing anger and disdain. Their world had seen enough of that.

An unexpected voice broke the silence of the forest, and Summit’s expression betrayed his surprise. “Frog pup….cry.” Summit had never been adept in hiding his feelings from his visage, and confusion crept across his features – russet brows arched questioningly, dark lips pursing tightly as unmatching eyes swept over the surrounding underbrush. The strangely spoken words were murmured with an accent characteristic of the north – Summit recognized it after spending so many months traveling and meeting strangers.

”Frog pup?” His voice questioned, tones deep. Squinting, Summit swore he could see a dash of mahogany through the twisted branches made bare by the onslaught of winter’s march. The color was oddly familiar, though it would take a lingering moment for the realization to settle into his consciousness. No… It couldn’t be the same boy.

Summit had never forgotten the past encounter with the Highlander youth, now closer to being a man than a child, and the sting he had felt after their brief interaction. Something had been lost in translation, though Summit had never deduced what. Clearing his throat, he offered to the unseen: “Glaodh orm rudaí níos measa.” – I’ve been called worse things, he acknowledged with a bemused chuckle. "Agatsa, más cuimhin liom i gceart é." - By you, if I remember it right.

The traveler had spent months learning the ancient language from his grandmother in the Fae Forest out of necessity – he had to learn if he was going to look for his sister in Saora, to speak the language of the locals. Instead of fighting in the war, he had been studying. Creating connections rather than destroying. His words were a bit clumsy and noticeably accented, but without a word out of place: ”Féadfaidh tú teacht amach freisin,” he invited with a lopsided grin – You might as well come out.

Summit was not an enemy, and never had been.



@Raith

coding: gutz

(ooc: pretend his dialog is in gaelic, I'm lazy lmao)

The other seemed far too calm for being stalked like he was, especially with how dramatic the other had been during their last encounter over a word he didn’t even understand much to this day. He knew it was something to say that was mean but beyond that, he wasn’t sure what the translation even was in his own tongue. It had been that way with many of the negative words he had learned to taunt the cruel soldiers of the south, just knowing it made them angry and that was satisfying had he gotten the chance to use one. That hadn’t exactly panned out in his favor, having been taken out by a tank of a woman so swiftly he could barely remember what exactly she had done besides causing the crushing pain in his hip.

As it was brought up in conversation, this time in his tongue by the other, his nose would wrinkle along the bridge. Called worse things than a crying frog? Though it would dawn on him that this boy was speaking fluently now on purpose, and it made his fur ruffle with new belief he had known exactly what had been said after all last time. He wouldn’t let it get to him for long, however, seeing no point in getting angry when it hadn’t exactly been the worst thing that had happened to him. Far from it. There were many instances that had resulted in him being harmed on a larger scale, even by his own family. Being called a toad was the least of his worries, causing his fur to smooth back down as he shook his head free of those agitated thoughts.

“Returned the favor. I only wanted help freeing the bee that was caught in the web above us, had you not run away,” was all he would give him back, not trying to start an argument but wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into one. It wasn’t hard to anger wolves in Saora, while two Mainlanders had been unreasonably kind to him. Maybe they were the ones in the wrong instead.

A sigh escaped him as he staggered out from the shelter of nature, his balance not particularly good when he was focusing on it too hard. His tail twitched as he took in the other male more freely than he had been able to a second ago. “I felt sorry when you first ran but it seems you do understand what you speak…” he stated, giving his reason for not apologizing now, not that he was asked for one in the first place.

code: elyon | art: pixel

[all speech is in Gaelic)

The two spoke in different voices than their last encounter, older now and on the cusp of adulthood when they had been mere pups before. The other spoke of Summit’s running away; his face remained placid, despite the discomfort of those memories. “I felt sorry when you first ran but it seems you do understand what you speak…” ”I didn’t then,” he clarified. ”I was trying to compliment your homeland.” One misunderstanding could change everything. Who knows? Perhaps they could have been friends when they were still boys, had his grasp on the language been more precise, or if the other hadn’t been so quick to react to a simple mistake.

A sad sort of smile crossed his muzzle as Summit regarded him, mismatched eyes taking in the sight of his scarred body. Despite his ragged shape, Summit was careful, just in case the stranger lashed out. With a soft sigh, the wanderer offered a bit of unsolicited advice, for what it was worth: ”You should not be so quick to judge others, friend.” His enunciation was far from perfect, he knew this, but at least he made an effort.

As the male moved, Summit noticed an obvious limp that had not existed when they were still children. His features scrunched up with concern for the wolf, reddish hued brows knitting together as a frown tugged at his lips. He didn’t mean to be rude as mismatched eyes sought the source of the young wolf’s suffering, focus landing upon a back leg that looked entirely useless to the young male now. Before Summit could stop his tongue from speaking, the question had already escaped: ”Are you alright?”

Summit and his family had evaded the war entirely. But many clans were not so fortunate, with offspring that would forever bear the scars of their forefather’s animosity. Of course, Summit didn’t know that the almost-stranger had fallen victim to the same war, but his expression was one of empathy and sadness nonetheless.




@Raith

coding: gutz

The boy was passive as the other was quick to claim otherwise, turning his gaze away from this mostly stranger, choosing to not say a word in the process as his ears twitched with mild disappointment. Though, it was the sentence that followed that caused his head to snap back and regain his fixation on the other male, brows creasing with subtle confusion. Your? Shouldn’t he be saying ours? “You aren’t Highland born? Then you shouldn’t have been able to dwell in the labyrinth of the fae, our sacred lands,” the desire to growl rising but he managed to keep the hostility at bay. Had the fae lost their sanity to allow just anyone in their graces? He was mixed with a variety of emotions at that moment. In one sense he could view it as the fae trusting this boy and in another he could take it as this was an outsider that had no place in Saora.

Atlas was nothing more than just an outsider too and he had allowed him free. But that was different. Right? It was a border they had been at odds about, not something as important as where worship took place, where the fae guided him and he failed. His jaw would clench a touch, at war within himself and it only grew more. What more, this other wasn’t showing any hostility, just as Atlas hadn’t. Just as Calla. Those outside of his homeland often seem kind, at least the ones off the battlefield.

At chastising him for his conceptions, he might have laughed had he been anyone else but instead he only shook his head. “You also assumed I knew what I meant, so take your own advice. I don’t know the Mainlander tongue. Fellow soldiers told me to call Mainlanders such things to taunt them. What horror does it mean to elicit tears in you?” his tail twitched, ears swiveling. Had he known it was an insult, yes but beyond that he didn’t know how extensive the insult was. For all he knew he called the boy’s mom fat.

As he moved into view, he raised a brow at the attention to his limp, used to others staring while not bringing it to conversation. It had healed substantially since it happened. Still useless and he wanted it gone, preferring to be a tripod than dragging a dead limb around. “War. I shielded my mom from a large dark woman trying to kill her,” he replied flatly, giving more details than he needed to but not going excessively into detail either. He could still remember that woman like it was yesterday, those demon violet eyes and the way she taunted him while he was behind bars as far as he could tell.

code: elyon | art: pixel