[ P ] Solo

Tybalt Aetós

All around him, spring seized the mysterious woods. The snowbanks melted away, revealing the forest floor, where new plants sprouted. But Tybalt found no pleasure in the changing seasons, and seemed not to notice the new life around him at all. Flowers bloomed, but Tybalt didn’t see them. Birds sang, but he didn’t hear. He sat alone with his left forepaw held up from the ground, hanging uselessly there in front of him. The paw pads were bloody and raw, after one wrong step led him into a bunch of brambles. He had managed to pull the thorns out, limping away to tend to his wounds.

His father had disappeared again. Tybalt didn’t ask where he went to, or why he left. He was used to it by now. It had been this way all his life. The boy was not quite a yearling, since he had been born in the summer, but he was no longer a small child. The chubbiness of youth had started to melt away into a lanky physique, with long legs and the promise of a wolf who would grow to be large. His face was gaunt, his form lean after a difficult winter still learning how to hunt for himself in the Fae Forest. Sometimes Dad was there. Often, he wasn’t. Tybalt had managed to hang on until spring, and as the ice melted, he felt more hopeful.

Still, in the night, it was hard. No one was there when he was scared or sad. He had gotten used to it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still impactful on the growing boy and his perception of the world around him, a world that had proven to be cold, distant, and unforgiving. A world in which no one stayed. He couldn’t even find the hedgehog friend he had made weeks ago. He wanted to find The Girl, but had no idea where to begin. She was near, but it had been months since he had seen her, and she would probably be upset with him, even if he did find her. She wouldn’t want him around. No one seemed to.

The boy settled into a lying position with paw stretched outward. Dull green eyes stared at the injured appendage. How could something so small hurt so much? No. Many wolves endured much worse than a silly hurt paw. It was just that he was weak, and as useless as that paw.


@Savard

Dangerous. That’s what it was. It wasn’t just foolish, or stupid, or chaotic, or reckless. It was dangerous. There was a first time for everything… at least on the surface. He had snuck around before, gone places he hadn’t gone, but crossing a military border, at his age no less, getting undetected? He might as well just send a bird to King Adamh himself just asking to be arrested at this point. Thankfully for him, it seemed that Rionnach soldiers were paid to be scary-looking, rather than effective. Some of them didn’t even look old or composed enough to have what it takes… but it’s not like border duty was a hot commodity these days anyhow. Nobody liked the border, nobody wanted the border, but the border was the only compromise that made any sense. The war had ended, and neither side had won, even though the imperials had surely lost. And now, all that rage and apathy was taken out on a line drawn in the dirt, between them and us. But what had brought him north in such a perilous time? It was complicated, to be sure. All of it, the risk, the difficulty, the strain, for a kid. But not just any kid. Blythe’s. He met him during the winter, someway somehow slipping through a blizzard into Rionna. The kid didn’t speak the Mainlander tongue very well, and these days that was grounds for imprisonment, if he were lucky. Savard had taken him in, talked to him in earnest, gotten to know some things about him, and slowly put it together. They looked nothing alike, him and her… but there were far too many coincidences for it to be anything but the truth. He let him go once he was well enough, telling him that he couldn’t stay where he was, that he had to go back home. Tybalt agreed, albeit reluctantly, perhaps at least understanding that this was what would be best for him. But Savard had made a promise that he wouldn’t be too far from him, would ever he need it. This was the very promise he had given to Blythe, all those years ago. He’d done a service for her once, would he not answer the call again? In time, memories of the pup faded in and out, almost to a backdrop in his own head. Things had slowed down considerably for him, almost to the point of monotony. A fear ebbed away at him, then, that maybe that boy wasn’t so better off where he had been. After all, if his life was truly better where he ought to belong, why did he run away in the first place? The boy spoke incoherently about his other parent, but it was enough to go off of. Savard liked to keep tabs that way, and knowing who he did, it was a rudimentary manner. An absentee father, one who had a truly good soul in his life, and he pissed it away, like the pup was nothing for him. How many parents hoped to have a kid like Tybalt, how many widows and pup-less mothers and fathers, the costs of war, disease, famine, nature, would wish that their son were alive? And how many failed to recognize anything of what they had in front of them? Then, he heard that that very prick, as he so surmised him, was arrested. The information didn’t come cheap, though it never did, but Savard knew that it meant that the kid was alone, somewhere, in the north. And with the way life was… pups left to the elements didn’t last long. So he made haste in search of the pup, leaving everything he held dear behind. Blythe came from the Fae Forest. He met her there a few times, a decent den on a high terrace overlooking trees older than any other being, it seemed. But upon searching it, Savard found it abandoned, long long ago. He remembered, then, that Blythe played such a little part in the pup’s life, that he doubted he even knew her well. He would have adored her, he told himself. His next guess was to track his father’s whereabouts, and one thread leading to another, found that his location was known to not be too far away at all. But his den, too was empty, save for the scent of his kid. The trail was easy enough to follow, deeper into the forest. And soon enough, there he was, the kid lying prone, tired, exhausted, starving, abandoned. Alone. Savard had made his promise, and he had kept it. He ought to be amazed that he found him…and yet… somehow he knew he would find the kid, or die trying. “You can’t stay here,” Savard said to him, “there’s no food here. Far too overgrown. Deer avoid places they know they will get stuck in.”

everything he touched fell apart

code // art

Tybalt Aetós

His vision had grown hazy as he stared at his injured paw. A deep voice warned: “You can’t stay here, there’s no food here. Far too overgrown. Deer avoid places they know they will get stuck in.” For a moment, he thought it was Dad addressing him, but instead of seeing his sire’s dark mask, it was a golden furred wolf that addressed him. Recognition crept into Tybalt’s consciousness, and the boy’s darkened face lit up as he attempted to pull himself into a sitting pain, wincing as his paw throbbed.

He could ignore the pain, though; he was excited to see a familiar face, even if it wasn’t Dad. ”Sabard!” He attempted the wolf’s name and was nearly successful. His enthusiasm was quickly replaced by confusion, however, aware that this encounter didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Tybalt knew about the guards that watched over certain places now forbidden to northerners. His head turned slightly to the side as he regarded the grown-up curiously. ”This isn’t yer home. What’re ya doin’ out ‘ere?”

After a silent second, his voice, deeper now than it had been during their previous interaction, spoke again: ”Can’t leave,” he informed the golden-hued brute with a stern nod. Eyes that matched the verdant forest turned away from Savard to examine the treeline that surrounded them, the brush that was quickly becoming overgrown, filled with thorns to poke and vines to trip over. ”This’s where Dad lives, ‘nd he might come back ag’in.” And what else was there to do but wait for this possible outcome?



@Savard

The kid looked worse for wear, even by Savard’s standards. Isolated, malnourished, and his pawpads were cut up fairly badly, indicating that this kid was ill-equipped to survive on his own. And yet, the powers that be had made it so, that this kid might have an absentee parent who was supposed to be there for him. The same powers, one might be quick to point out, that had convinced Savard to venture to the far north, sneak across the border, and somehow find the boy against all odds. The boy, though, had a certain optimism about him, as if he didn’t know how bad off he really was. Most kids would have panicked by this point, given in, lost hope… but then again, knowing who the boy was… his lineage was made of stronger than stuff. At least… as far as his estimations had reasoned who his mother was during their previous meeting. He did not have concrete proof of it, since with her death proving it would be impossible. And yet… there was no such thing as a string of coincidences. Expressing surprise at his presence, Tybalt greeted Savard with an unexpected confidence, which gave way to confusion. It was almost as if the boy wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. He didn’t blame him, though. Savard might have thought along the same lines if he were to be in the pup’s position. Savard wanted to explain it to the wolf, he really did, but the truth was that things were quite complicated. Where would he even begin, when it came to telling Tybalt why he had come all this way? It didn’t matter anyhow, did it? Well… perhaps it did. It was almost tragic, in a way, the kid’s predicament. It was not so much the fact that Tybalt had been seemingly abandoned, left to fend for his own without any of the skills he needed to survive. It was the fact that the pup’s father had given him a false hope, that this kid had relied on a wolf who didn’t deserve the love that was given to him. And Savard, by being here, was about to shatter Tybalt’s worldview, he feared. Savard never got a chance to go over his proposal, as it seemed that the wolf had cut right to the chase. This was where his father had lived, and that he would be back soon. Soon… was that what he was told? If he was so much as told at all, that is? Hearing the determination in Tybalt’s voice only made his blood boil, though not at the youth. How many fathers had lost their sons in Rionna, who might otherwise have given anything for one more day with their lost child? And meanwhile, this pup’s father had seemingly left him to die, alone, abandoned. He didn’t deserve what he had, and even if it was not Savard’s place to right that wrong, he still held quite the reservations. It left Savard in a sort of crisis. After all, the news he had received regarding the pup’s father may have been relatively new when he had gotten it. But by this point… it had been more than long enough for something to be done. He didn’t know, however, what he ought to say. Speak the lie, and he might preserve the trust Tybalt had for his father, at the cost of telling the wolf what he deserved to know. Speak the truth… and it might break the wolf’s heart, and teach him truly how the world was. What might a good father do? And besides, where were they to go? Savard contemplated the right words to speak in silence, knowing that between the little he knew about this wolf’s family and the mountain of experience he had had in a similar life, that what he said would be difficult to do, either way. “I wasn’t asking, kid,” Savard said, motioning with his head through the path of least resistance, out of the brush and away from this place. But even as those few words rolled off the tongue, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. After all, the pup had his questions, and Savard had done his part to not answer a single one of them. He knew that the truth was needed, at least as he so knew it. He’d have to thank his informant for the information, and pray that it was correct. But seeing as the pup now was… there wasn’t a better option. With a deep exhale, Savard said what he had to say. “Your father’s not coming back, Tybalt,” he spoke, his stern tone betraying how hard it was for him to utter those words, “he’s been arrested. I came all this way for you because I heard about it. Now come on… there’s nothing for us here.”

everything he touched fell apart

code // art

Tybalt Aetós

“I wasn’t asking, kid.” Everyone seemed to just boss him around, only to do bad things. Savard gestured toward a dark path, trod by countless others of their species, some alive but many long since dead. “Your father’s not coming back, Tybalt. He’s been arrested. I came all this way for you because I heard about it.” Arrested? Again? The boy frowned. Tybalt knew all about those Imperial jerks and their stinky prisons, having been taught that important lesson in his earliest months. Now he had his own harrowing tales to tell about the Imperials, given how awful his time there had been. He had met terrible, mean wolves there. But he had also met Savard. So, he supposed, it wasn’t all bad. Even still, he had no desire to ever be in Rionna again. And the thought of his father behind bars again drew a lengthy sigh from his lungs.

His ears pricked forward as Savard was soon speaking again: ”Now come on… there’s nothing for us here.” ”Can’t,” he reiterated with a resolute nod and a somber expression. ”Have ta be good. Obedient. Friendly. Speaking the right language. That was what it took to be deemed acceptable. He had learned this lesson over and over again in the months he had been alive – not even a whole year had gone by, but it was plenty long enough for the boy to have experienced the cruelty of a world in which he never really belonged.

What if Savard was just as bad as The Lady had been? Or any of the terrible soldiers? There existed a more wary look in his dull jade eyes now than in his younger months, the aftershocks of the poor treatment he had received along the way. Tybalt pulled himself to his paws, off of the cold forest floor. He was reminded of his injured paw when a jolt of pain shot through his foreleg, and he stood with that paw dangling midair awkwardly. His posture straightened so that he was at his full height – tall for a boy not yet a yearling. It made his lean frame all the more noticeable, the way bones protruded from beneath his filthy pelt.

Savard had been kind in the past. But Tybalt’s judgment had been so terribly misguided before. How could he trust himself when he had been so very wrong, so often? Still, the grown-up wolf’s words resonated within his tired mind: I came all this way for you. It was hard to believe that anyone would do the random boy such a favor. ”Sabard. Ye came out ‘ere … fer me?” His voice was hushed, as if speaking too loudly would only send the man running away. Just like the rest of them. "Why...?"