The war was over. For most wolves… there weren’t many things left to worry about, outside of the normal that is. No, instead, all that was left was to pick up the pieces, and see what was left, what could be saved. Some lost more than others, some put everything into this war… only for the only changes to be made was where lines in the earth were drawn. All of the suffering, dying… and had anything really changed or improved for anyone? Even as shopkeepers could go back to expecting their wares not to be confiscated for Imperial provisions, denizens of the street not to be rounded up for questioning and interrogation, or soldiers settle back into their roles of interfering with Guilders and other apparent agitators… would there ever be a normal again? Could anybody really put this war behind them? And for Savard especially… did he really have anything less to worry about?
He hated to admit it, but the russet wolf, older than he had once been, though no less disillusioned with the above-surface world as he was with the below-surface one, was afraid. With the end of hostilities, many of the wolves he had been actively trying to avoid now had more free time than they knew what to do with, and it would be perhaps only a matter of time before they found him. It wasn’t that he feared for his life with them, no… because death was an alternative for what they wanted him for. Connections, insight, clout… power. Savard, to them, was a tool, something to get something better… and it was a terrible thing to be, to the types of wolves who wanted it. It would not be so terrible for him, after all, they needed him. But what Savard feared, what he always had feared, was what wolves would do to ensure his compliance, to those he was close with. His friends, his allies, his… child, being cold and distant towards them was the only way he could keep them safe.
But she would just have to forgive him, for what he had to do. Savard had met lots and lots of wolves… most just in passing, but rarely did they stick with him. He never got her name, but he met her in Sussex a while back, during the war. A nurse on her break, a wolf who seemed to have her paws full with everything. He had tried to talk with her, socialize somehow, but she was gone before anything went anywhere. He had wondered more often than he should have about her whereabouts, if she had made it through the war. There was something about her that drew his mind to her. It wasn’t love, at least it didn’t feel like it… but it was hope. Hope for what he could have been. He spent all his years bringing people their end… but she saved lives… and maybe a part of him couldn’t help but wonder, could her life had been his? Perhaps there was a certain genuine curiosity he had about her that he wanted to pursue further. Or… perhaps it was as good a place as any to hide from what was surely coming for him. Either way, he went back to the very same spot they had met, hoping, just hoping, that he would see her again. |