FSE

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Chapter 7

“So, tomorrow is the big day, isn't it?" said Marjorie to Anabelle, both of them in their werewolf forms, sitting just outside the latter's den.

“Yep! Tomorrow, my Littlepaws turns three," responded the white she-werewolf, smiling.

“Ah, it feels like it was only yesterday that I was reading storybooks to him, girl. He was just this cute little thing back then, remember? But look at him now, all grown up and brimming with youthful vigor. Why, he's already just as tall as my fluffball; and since Darkhowl sired him, I'm sure he'll grow even bigger and stronger still!"

“Yeah, he definitely takes after his father!" said Anabelle, chuckling lightly.

“So, you know what to expect, right?"

“Well, I do know there's a little ceremony of sorts, in which Littlepaws will shed that name to complete his passage into adulthood. And once that's done, he'll be welcomed into the pack as a new lycca-brother."

“Yup, that's it, girl!" nodded Marjorie, giving her friend a thumbs up. “Turning three truly is a big deal for lycca. I mean, it marks the point where a boy becomes a man! Well, more like werewolf-boy and werewolf-man, I guess..."

“But the 'were' in 'werewolf' already stands for 'man,' doesn't it?" asked the white lycca-vanni with a mischievous little smile. “So you've just said 'manwolf-man'!"

“Ah, you know what I meant. The point is, it's a big change! As in, he's going to move out from your den to make one of his own, and he'll also enter the rotation for patrolling the woods, just like all the other adult males in the pack. But the biggest change of all, of course, is that he will finally be of age for the forest to one day bring a vanni to him."

“Oh, trust me, I know. Littlepaws' been talking about all that for months now — especially that last part. He really can't wait to start his new life as an adult lycca. And although I'm a bit sad that he's going to leave the den, I understand that he'll need his own space now. But I guess it could've been worse. I mean, he isn't leaving Howling Grove, so it's not like we'll just stop seeing him or anything."

“Ah, you'll always be his mother no matter what, girl," said Marjorie as she patted Anabelle's furred back. “It's just that no den is big enough to house two adult males, y'know? And even if Littlepaws is your son, there's still something of an unspoken rule that forbids a grown-up lycca from living under the same roof as a vanni who's soma-bonded to someone else."

“Yeah, I understand that," sighed the white she-werewolf as she watched her son talking animatedly with the twins. “Still, it's a big change — not just for him, but for me too. Then again, I guess every bird has to leave their mother's nest sooner or later, right?"

“Them's the rules of nature, I'm afraid! But you should be proud that you raised such a kind-hearted boy. I'm sure he'll make a vanni very, very happy someday."

“Oh, I am proud of him — so proud that it hurts. But I won't cry. I mean, just look at how excited he is! How could I not be happy that he's... that he's finally one step closer to realizing his lifelong lyccan dreams?"

Anabelle then wiped the excess moisture off her beautiful emerald eyes, smiling a somewhat sad smile.

“Heh, I must have gotten a little dirt in my eye," said the white lycca-vanni, sniffling a bit.

“Yeah, it happens," replied the gray one as she rubbed her friend's shoulders comfortingly.

~*~

At last, the big day had arrived.

A modest number of werewolves, both male and female, had congregated in front of Darkhowl's den that evening. Among them, of course, were Elise, Marjorie, and Rose, as well as their respective lycca-mates, plus Kicky and Klawy. Standing at the entrance to the den were Anabelle, Darkhowl, and Littlepaws. Quiet whispering and expectant amber eyes abounded; all of them centered on the one who was about to officially bid farewell to his cubhood.

“Ready, son?" asked Darkhowl.

“I— I think so, Father," replied the young lycca as the nervous wag of his tail quickened somewhat.

“Very well then!" said the large werewolf with a firm nod of his head before turning to address everyone else. “My fellow wolfpack-brothers and sisters of Howling Grove, I am proud to announce that a new lycca brother joins our great pack today. Indeed, the tiny little cub I sired three years ago with my beloved vanni-mate is now ready to begin his new life as a fully independent adult. Thus, as is tradition, I would like to invite you all to hear the words he has prepared for this momentous occasion."

As whatever noise there was died down, Anabelle leaned towards Littlepaws' ear. “That's your cue!" she gently whispered to him, smiling.

So, the guest of honor took a somewhat shaky step forward and cleared his throat as he surveyed the small crowd. All eyes were on him, indeed. And although he had certainly rehearsed his lines for that day, Littlepaws felt as if his mind had gone blank. Who would have thought that giving a memorized speech in front of an audience could be so difficult? But then, when all hope seemed lost, he noticed Klawy giving him a hearty thumbs-up and couldn't help but crack a smile.

“F-for three years I have borne the name of Littlepaws, granted to me by my beloved mother," he began. “In that time, I went from being a pup that fit in the palm of her hand, to the lycca that humbly stands before you today, speaking these very words. And through it all, I assure you, I bore that name with utmost pride and honor. But Littlepaws' journey must end today, for the new path that now extends before me cannot be walked on the legs of a cub."

He then turned to Anabelle before continuing:

“Mother, the time has come for me to shed the infancy name you had so graciously granted me at birth. Therefore, should you let me, I would like to respectfully return the name of Littlepaws to you now, so that I can embark on this new journey as a proper bond-less lycca. And thus I ask you, Mother: may I hand this name back to you?"

Holding back her tears, the white she-werewolf simply smiled and recited her line, although she couldn't stop the very human emotions washing over her motherly heart from making themselves apparent through a subtle waver in her voice.

“You may, my son," she said, symbolically taking his clawed hand in her own. “I shall take that name from your hands now so that, one day, another vanni can grant you the one your noble lyccan soul is truly destined for."

Darkhowl stepped forth as Anabelle, having completed her part in the ceremony, drew back.

“It is done!" he triumphantly announced, raising his son's left arm skywards. “Here stands Littlepaws no more, but a vanni-born child of Mother Moon who is ready to begin his journey as our newest wolfpack-brother! And so I say: let us welcome him all together as one!"

The large werecanine didn't have to ask twice. One by one, every male present in the crowd began to howl into the sky in response, soon joined by the females accompanying them. Anabelle and Darkhowl let their inner wolves make themselves heard as well, adding their howls to the beastly choir. Finally, so did the nameless lycca formerly known as Littlepaws, joining everyone else as they all sang their primal song of howls — a soulful chorus of lupine cries released in honor of the great she-wolf who watched over all of them through the ethereal shine of the moon.

“AWOOOOOOOO"

~*~

Forest of Lanea - year 1159.

A full year had passed since the day Anabelle and Darkhowl's son shed his infancy name. The four-year-old lycca now lived in his own den, which he carved at the foot of a rocky elevation with the help of his father, not too far from the den that saw him grow. And although he didn't quite match his sire in terms of height and muscular mass, he was still very clearly a full-grown werewolf, with a gifted physique courtesy of Darkhowl's exceptional alpha-male genes.

Now, it must be said that for the first few months, Anabelle, Elise, and some of the other vanni would still call him Littlepaws every now and then by sheer force of habit. But that was to be expected, as it was understood that the human mind needs time to adapt to sudden changes in the status quo. Thus, Anabelle's son simply responded with humor every time it happened, often saying something along the lines of “Littlepaws? Who is this Littlepaws you speak of?" — doing so in a stilted tone as a joke.

He-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero (for that was his nickname, given to him by the twins) spent his days slowly furnishing his den with whatever items he could procure, all in the hopes of making it worthy of one day housing a vanni. Thus, little by little, and with the help of Marjorie and the others, he was able to turn it from a barren hole in the rock, to a rightly cozy living space.

The industrious lycca already had most of the essentials: a few makeshift chairs, a wooden table, an oil lamp, and a pile of hay with sheets for a bed. Some cutlery and a couple plates were next on his list — not for him, of course, but for his future vanni. He simply had to make it the best den it could possibly be, so that whoever was destined to soma-bond with him would be pleased with his efforts.

Every eight days or so, our nameless werewolf would perform patrol duties with four other males, just like each and every able-bodied lycca born of vanni in Howling Grove. Although exhausting, performing such duties was necessary for the pack to assert and maintain dominance over their vast territory, which kept monsters and other chaos-driven creatures away. For that reason, every male was entered into the rotation as soon as they came of age, and he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero was no exception.

As for Kicky and Klawy, it had been two months since their third birthday. Both of them had had their own coming-of-age ceremony as well, in which they both 'returned' their infancy names to Elise in order to complete their passage into adulthood, much like Anabelle and Darkhowl's son had done twelve months prior. They now shared a den of their own a short distance away from that of their parents'.

The three nameless lycca still spent a good part of their days together, often talking about this and that while prowling the woods at dusk for prey, or simply lounging on the grass once their wolfish stomachs were sated. Then again, the twins had always been attached at the hip, and he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero might as well have been their third brother.

But while the twins seemed content living without a feminine presence in their lives, Anabelle's offspring was always looking for chances to talk about his vanni-centric hopes and dreams with whoever would lend him an ear. In doing so, he was able to gain valuable insight into the experiences of his peers over the course of several months, which helped him mold his own expectations in regard to what it meant to be soma-bonded to a human female.

What follows is a hand-picked selection of some of the more salient conversations he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero had during that period of his life:

CONVERSATION 1 (OF 6) - THE TWINS

The son of Darkhowl was busy in his den when a pair of identical wolves invited themselves in. “Ah, our future hero is hard at work, I see," said one of them with a mischievous wave of his tail. “So, what is that jumble of wood supposed to be anyway?"

“Oh, he-who-kicks, he-who-claws, welcome!" greeted the slightly taller werewolf as he stopped tinkering with whatever the wooden thing in his hands was. “This is a chair. Or, well, that is what I hope it will become once I am done with it, but, uh... Let us just say that making a chair is proving to be a little more difficult than I thought."

“Only a little? Heh, I am sorry, but it does not look like that thing will ever be a chair," said the other twin as he walked closer on his four feral legs, flicking his ears and sniffing at the object in question. “Unless you want to prank someone with it, I would suggest throwing it away and simply finding a suitable rock, like every other lycca does."

“True," nodded his brother. “Vanni can sit on rocks just fine, you know? There is no need to overthink it."

“Yes, I know, I know," responded the laborious lycca with a sigh. “But rocks are just rocks. There is nothing special about them. I aim to impress my future vanni, not underwhelm her."

“Ah, yes, you are right. She will certainly be very impressed when your so-called chair gives, and she ends up with a sore behind and a hundred splinters embedded into her thighs."

“How about taking a break?" he-who-claws suggested — or was it he-who-kicks? Who could say? “We are going to the acorn glade for an edifying afternoon of chasing some squirrels around. Care to join us?"

After thinking about it for a few moments, he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero stood up and then changed into his feral wolf form. “Alright, count me in!" he exclaimed.

And so, the lupine trio set out for that glade, seeking to indulge their chasing instincts for a while. “After all, a little running for their lives does our prey good. It helps them keep their senses sharp, and their limbs nimble, which is to their benefit." Such was the flimsy rationale behind what ultimately amounted to terrorizing small rodents for fun, as posited by one of the twins. “Of course, we are not meant to play with our food, but none of them is going down our gullets today. Therefore, no lives taken equals no harm done, am I right?"

Ah, yes. Young wolves will be young wolves, just like boys will be boys. It is but an inevitability of nature, especially when the boys in question are instinct-driven apex predators with an itch to scratch. Well, at the very least, their idea of fun did not include hurting or maiming the little critters, only chasing them. Indeed, the trio understood that taking the life of prey was strictly reserved for the act of hunting, which they knew was no game.

Regardless, the three canines walked forth through the woods at a leisurely pace.

“Keep your eyes open, he-who-yearns," advised he-who-kicks, swishing his tail in the other wolf's general direction. “You may yet find a proper boulder for your den just lying around!"

“Hm? Oh, right, yes, thank you," Anabelle's son replied, flicking his ears. “By the way, how is your own den coming along? I have been so busy working on mine, that I have not had the time to visit yours in a while..."

“Oh, our den? It is finished," stated the other twin, performing a motion akin to a shrug.

“It is? Already? Furniture and all?"

“Eh, we could not be bothered with furnishing it. After all, it is just a place for the two of us to sleep at. There simply is no point in filling it with things we are not going to use."

“But— but— but—" stuttered the flummoxed lycca, stopping in his tracks. “H-how do you expect to impress your future vanni with a barren den?"

“Who said we wanted to impress anyone?" pointedly asked he-who-claws.

“...Huh?"

“Ah, let us just say that we, uh... We are in no hurry to bond with a vanni."

“That is right," nodded he-who-kicks. “At present, neither of us feels like we need a vanni in our lives."

He-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero stood there, frozen, with his jaw hanging.

“H-h-h-how come??" he finally sputtered out. “Is it not the dream of every lycca to soma-bond with a vanni?"

“I do not know about every lycca... But I do know that we can only speak for ourselves. And at this very moment, all we can say for certain is that we are perfectly fine as we are. Or at least that is simply how we feel," calmly explained he-who-kicks.

“D-do Elise-vanni and Fang know about this?"

“They do. And they are not worried. Mother said she will always love us no matter where our path might take us, and that as long as we are happy, she will be too."

“And Father said that we are still young, which means life may yet surprise us... several times over, in fact," continued the other twin. “He believes vanni will come to us eventually; and when that happens, only then will we truly know what we want to do with our lives. Which I suppose is a fair thing to say."

“I— I see..." said the son of Darkhowl, still reeling in shock somewhat.

“Heh, relax. It is going to be okay," said he-who-claws as he sat beside his cubhood friend. “I promise you: whether or not we decide to form a bond with a vanni does not change who we are. Even if we never develop an interest in mating with a human female, we will still be the same two lycca we have always been!"

“I... suppose you are right," conceded he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero. “I am sorry. I was just— surprised, I guess."

“Ah, but why be surprised when you can be happy that this gives you more chances to get a vanni sooner?"

“W-what do you mean?"

“Some lycca believe that the stronger your wish for a vanni is, the sooner one will come to you," explained the other twin as he stepped closer. “But since neither my brother nor I harbor such wishes, that is two less lycca competing with you for a favorable spot in the forest's 'waiting list,' so to speak!"

“Oooooh, I see!" exclaimed the son of Darkhowl, suddenly feeling as though a new sun had risen just for him. “I had not thought of that!"

“And now you have!" said he-who-kicks with a smile, pleased to see his friend wagging his tail so excitedly. “Well! That was a good talk and all, but... are we going to the acorn glade or not? Those squirrels will not chase themselves!"

And so, after sharing a few good-natured laughs, the three wolves continued on their way.

CONVERSATION 2 (OF 6) - FLEETPAW

One day, he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero decided that he wanted to put his sprinting skills to the test, and challenged Fleetpaw to a race. To make a short story even shorter, Fleetpaw won.

“Oh, wow, I simply did not stand a chance, did I? Your legs truly do justice to your name, brother Fleetpaw!" admiringly exclaimed a thoroughly humbled (and panting) he-who-yearns.

“Th-thank you, son of Darkhowl. I, uh... I suppose that is because all the strength I lack f-from the waist up must have somehow gone to these legs of mine, hahahah..." he laughed awkwardly.

“Ah, whatever the case, I am sure many a lycca wishes they could be at least half as speedy as you are!"

“Heh, well, it is nice to think that I, uh... that I still have something my wolfpack-brothers can find worthy of admiration," said Fleetpaw, giving a somewhat half-hearted smile. “Although I would be lying if I said I would not trade it all away in an instant f-for a properly developed body like... like everyone else's."

“Oh..." simply said Darkhowl's son; his ears and tail drooping as he suddenly realized he himself was considerably taller and more muscular than the speedster male, even though the latter was his elder by two decades. “Am I... making you uncomfortable, brother Fleetpaw?" he apologetically tried.

“N-no, I... I am sorry. I should not have said that," the runtish lycca admitted, shaking his head. “It is just that sometimes, I... I see my brothers and, uh... and I cannot help but wish I could look more like— like them."

He-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero stood silent for a few moments, thinking of something to say. Eventually, a response he deemed proper enough came to him:

“Brother Fleetpaw, I assure you no one in Howling Grove thinks of you as a lesser lycca."

“I— I am afraid to say that is not true," sighed Fleetpaw. “F-for there is exactly one individual in Howling Grove who on some level still thinks of me as a lesser lycca. Of course, that individual... is me."

Again, the son of Darkhowl did not know what to say in response to that. Deep inside, he understood that he could never truly know what it was like to be stuck in the body of a runt through no fault of his own, cruelly denied from ever achieving the prodigious proportions everyone else enjoyed. 'It is true that I will never see the world through brother Fleetpaw's eyes,' he thought, 'but... Oh!'

“If I may ask, what does Marjorie-vanni think of you?" said the younger (yet bigger) lycca, suddenly realizing that maybe all he needed to do was remind his wolfpack-brother of the soma bond in his heart.

Certainly, Fleetpaw's countenance brightened the second he heard Marjorie's name. Now cracking a smile, he sighed and replied: “As per her own words, she believes I am perfect just the way I am."

“Well, there you go. Your vanni-mate finds you perfect for her. Does that not suffice?"

“Oh, it... It does. I sometimes forget that, but... it does. Th-thank you for reminding me of what truly matters, son of Darkhowl. I, uh... I suppose I should work on keeping Margie-vanni's words at the forefront of my mind at all times, so that the phantoms of inadequacy do not have a chance to rear their ugly heads again."

“That, or you could simply ask her to repeat them to you whenever you feel like you need to hear them again. I am sure she will be more than happy to do it for you," suggested he-who-yearns, offering his pack brother a warm fraternal smile.

“Oh, yes, I— I will be sure to do that too!"

As the mood lightened, the two bonding werewolves spent a few minutes in contemplative silence, simply gazing at the horizon while a gentle breeze blew by, softly ruffling their fur.

“You know..." eventually said Fleetpaw, still gazing at the point where the blue of the sky met the green of the land. “It is often said that we lycca save vanni... but I say the opposite is true as well."

“Oh? Is it so?"

“Absolutely," nodded the smaller werewolf with a bluish coat of fur. “They save us by, um... by giving our lives a grander purpose than simply surviving for survival's sake. And that, in turn, elevates our spirits to heights much, much greater than we could possibly reach by our lonesome. In that sense, t-they are as much our saviors as we are theirs."

“Interesting. I must admit I had not considered that," said the other werewolf; his ears perked. “I always thought that it was our role as alpha males to be their heroes, and that it was theirs to seek both salvation and refuge in our powerful arms. I did not think it was possible for things to be any other way..."

“Oh, uh, um... You would do well not to assume vanni can only be damsels in distress for us to rescue. In fact, my Margie-vanni saved me more than I saved her!"

“She did? H-how so?" asked the son of Darkhowl, eager to learn more.

“Well, she rescued me from myself and, uh... and showed me that I was, in fact, uncontestably and irrevocably deserving of her love. F-for that reason alone, I can say without a shadow of doubt that she... That she is my hero!"

Fleetpaw did not utter those words lightly. He earnestly believed them to be true, and the fiery gleam in his eyes was a testament to that.

“I have much to learn about vanni still..." humbly said he-who-yearns; his eyes downcast.

“You are but four years old, son of Darkhowl. Trust me: your journey as an adult lycca is only just beginning!"

“So it is, brother Fleetpaw. So it is..."

CONVERSATION 3 (OF 6) - DAGGERCLAW

Since he was still learning the ropes of patrolling the forest, for his first year as an adult, he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero was required to spend his shifts shadowing older, more experienced lycca. One day, that lycca was Rose's mate, Daggerclaw.

“You made sure you lapped up a good two or three bowls of water before coming, right?" the sinister-looking werewolf asked in his gruff, growl-like voice.

“Y-yes, of course, brother Daggerclaw."

“Good. Now keep in mind that the distance we are to cover is great, so you have to manage your reserves properly. It would be troublesome if you ended up with an empty bladder before we are done."

“Yes, I will keep that in mind."

And so, they set out on their patrolling path along the perimeter of their designated area. As they went, the werelupine duo stopped every five trees or so to mark their territory the way canines do. “This is what keeps chaos-driven creatures at bay, son of Darkhowl. Indeed, the scent of our waste-water is a clear-cut warning for them not to set foot in our forest, unless they wanted to die by our claws," helpfully explained Daggerclaw as he marked the trunk of a tree.

About fifty trees later, the younger werewolf decided to broach the subject he truly wanted to talk about.

“Um, b-brother Daggerclaw? May I ask you a question?" he began.

“Yes, of course. Go ahead and ask."

“A-alright..." said he-who-yearns before clearing his throat. “It... it is about vanni."

Daggerclaw stopped and turned towards Darkhowl's son.

“I just... cannot stop thinking about them," the latter continued, nervously scratching the side of his furry neck. “A-and I was wondering if you would be willing to... to share your experiences as a soma-bonded lycca with me, s-so I can learn from them?"

Silent like the shadow of death, Daggerclaw held his piercing gaze on the younger lycca for a few moments... until he suddenly burst into laughter. “Ah, of course, of course!" the older male said as he composed himself. “Yes, I once was your age too, many years ago, so I know what that feels like. Very well! What do you wish to know, son of Darkhowl?"

“T-to begin with... I would like to know w-what it feels like to... to touch the bare skin of a vanni," said the fidgeting lycca, making a concerted effort not to lift his gaze off the ground.

“Ah, so we are going straight there, hm? Heh, well, I suppose it is only natural. After all, mating is a big part of our lives," Daggerclaw spoke. “To answer your question, I will say that the naked body of a vanni is pure glory made flesh, especially in its original human form. Words cannot do it justice; it has to be experienced to be believed. But, of course, first you must prove to her that you are worthy of even beholding such divine perfection. It is, after all, a privilege that has to be earned."

“H...how does one earn that privilege?"

“Well, for the most part, she has to find you desirable," stated Rose's lycca-mate as he headed towards the next tree on their path. “In that regard, our lyccan physique already does most of the work for us, as the Goddess molded us to be what every vanni ultimately wants: a strong, reliable mate they can trust in body, heart, and soul."

“Ooooh, so they are naturally attracted to us?" excitedly asked the younger one.

“Yes and no. It may be more accurate to say that they are naturally attracted to males who can make them feel safe and secure in their arms. It is a primal need that is rooted in their most basic survival instincts, and we are certainly built to satisfy it."

“Hmm, I see. First I must make sure my future vanni feels safe and secure in my arms, so that I can earn her trust," hummed the son of Darkhowl, “for only then she will allow me to touch her naked body. Is this correct?"

“Uh, not necessarily..." said Daggerclaw as he marked the tree. “First of all, do not think of it as a checklist. These things are more complex than that. Secondly, you are not entitled to mating. Even if you do everything right, your vanni can still say no, and that is their prerogative. And lastly, when it comes to mating, satisfying your vanni's carnal desires comes first, always. After all, and I cannot stress this enough, few things are more fulfilling in this world than seeing your loving mate thoroughly satisfied as she lies in your embrace."

“Ah, y-yes, I know that I am to put her needs before mine. But, well... It is so difficult to push the selfish thoughts away when I feel the blood in my veins boiling with the desire to mate. I simply cannot express just how badly I wish to breed a vanni. It is torture, brother Daggerclaw!"

“Hahahah, such is the plight of a young bond-less lycca, indeed!" laughed the more experienced werewolf, giving the trainee a pat on the back. “Trust me, we have all been there. But rest assured: the wait is oh-so-worth it. Remember that you will connect with your future vanni on a level that goes well beyond the physical act of mating, son of Darkhowl. She will not be just a female for you to mount. She will be your soul mate."

“My soul mate..." quietly echoed he-who-yearns, taking his time to ponder the mystical significance of those words.

“Yes, your soul mate. After all, what is a soma bond if not a holy covenant between two kindred souls that transcends the human/lycca barrier? Ah, but I am afraid that there is much of this you will not fully understand just yet. Not until you have seen yourself reflected in the eyes of your fated vanni as she loses herself in yours for the very first time. In my experience, that is when a lycca truly realizes that he is beholding a living, breathing soul with her own wants and needs, and hopes and dreams, who is willing to accept you as an indelible part of her life."

Darkhowl's son stood in awe at the nugget of wisdom he had just been imparted. Its profoundness took him aback, and a few moments of stunned silence would pass before he'd finally remember that he needed to breathe.

“That... was... beautiful..." he said. “So much so, t-that it boggles the mind to imagine Rose-vanni being the inspiration for, uh... I— I mean, n-never mind!"

Daggerclaw laughed.

“Ah, yes, it is easy to think of my fireblood-vanni as a crass woman with little in the way of redeeming qualities. But that is just the persona she likes to project outwardly. Those who are the closest to her know that there is a fiercely loyal and caring soul underneath it all," proudly said the older werewolf. “Now then, how about we resume our patrolling duties? There still are a good hundred-or-so trees ahead for us to mark!"

“Oh, of course!"

And off they went, the younger one now feeling a little wiser.

CONVERSATION 4 (OF 6) - FANG

On this occasion, he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero was shadowing Elise's lycca-mate, Fang.

“It is your first time patrolling this area, right?" asked the older male.

“Yes, that is so, brother Fang," nodded the younger one. “I had certainly never been this close to the human village before."

“Well, in that case, let me tell you that this particular area has certain considerations to follow. First and foremost, since it borders the human village — as you noted — patrolling it on the four legs of our feral wolf form is a must. That way, should a human spot us, we ensure our true nature remains hidden."

“Oh, yes, that makes sense," said Darkhowl's son as he quickly shifted into his four-legged form.

“Also, even though the sunlight helps mask the amber glow of our eyes, it is still advisable not to direct your gaze towards the village if you can help it," added Fang as he too changed into his wolf form. “Very well then! Onwards we go."

Thus, the two lyccan lupines walked forth, making their way along the border of the forest at a relaxed pace. Of course, both of them took turns to mark trees at regular intervals as they went. Then, about forty minutes later, their otherwise uneventful routine was interrupted when Fang noticed a certain something on the ground ahead of them.

“Ah, come take a look at this, son of Darkhowl," said the bigger wolf as he approached the oddly-shaped object. “Just make sure not to touch it."

“Oh? What is this thing, brother Fang?"

“It is called a bear trap. If you step on it, its jagged metal teeth will clamp shut on your leg."

“Is that so? But there are no bears here!" the younger one exclaimed as he cautiously sniffed at the grass around the device.

“Oh, do not let the name fool you, he-who-yearns. This trap is meant for us," Fang explained as he circled the object in question. “You see, one of the human males living in the village is particularly obsessed with the idea of capturing us. Most vanni seem to agree that the culprit is a man who bears the title of 'Chief of Police,' whatever that means. At any rate, he will set up these traps every now and then, so you will do well to keep an eye open for them when patrolling this area."

“I— I see..." said Darkhowl's son, taking a step back to allow Fang to complete his walk around the trap. “So, what do we do with that thing?"

“First, we trigger it. Observe."

The more experienced wolf picked up a sturdy enough branch with his mouth, then used it to activate the pressure plate at the center of the bear trap. With a loud 'SNAP!,' the device closed its metal jaws in an instant, splitting the branch in two.

“Whoa!" jumped the younger one, startled. “I do not want that thing anywhere near my legs!"

“Oh, yes, its iron bite hurts quite a bit, indeed!" said Fang, laughing. “I should know, as I once stepped on one of these myself!"

“You— you did?"

“Yeah... It happened ten years ago, when I was a little wolf cub of about nine months of age. On that day, my curiosity had drawn me as close to the village as I could possibly get without stepping out of the woods. But suddenly, an explosion of pain shook my very being when my hind leg was caught in the teeth of a trap much like this one."

“Oh, Goddess! I do not even want to imagine the damage it must have done to your leg!"

“Ah, yes, it was quite the wound!" Fang continued, raising his hind leg. “Very unsightly, with crushed bone, blood, and all. Luckily for me, a kind-hearted human girl from the village was nearby. She heard my cries of pain and came to my aid. That was when I met my princess-vanni, Elise, for the very first time."

Darkhowl's son's eyes widened.

“Y-you met Elise-vanni before you were old enough to even awaken your two-legged form??" he incredulously asked.

“That is correct! And although she was eighteen years of age at the time, she had not bloomed into a vanni just yet either!" exclaimed Fang, raising his lupine head. “In other words, we met before either of us was ready to soma-bond! This hardly ever happens, so I took our chance encounter as a sign that we were destined to one day be together. And so I waited. I held onto her sacred bandage of healing and waited. Three years later, the call of the forest brought her back to me... and the rest is history, as they say!"

“T-that is incredible, brother Fang!" said the younger wolf admiringly. “Vanni are truly amazing, are they not?"

“Oh, yes, they are. And what is more, each of them is amazing in their own unique way. Indeed, there are no two vanni alike in the world!" Fang proclaimed with absolute sureness. “In that sense, every single one of them is special, and must be cherished accordingly."

“I will certainly make sure to cherish mine very much, yes," the son of Darkhowl stated with a nod of his head. “Now, if only the call of the forest would bring one to me already..."

“Well, for better or for worse, waiting is all we can do in that regard. But the forest is wise. It will only summon a vanni for you when both of you are ready to soma-bond. Therefore, we have to trust its judgment. After all, we live in it, and are thus subject to its rules."

“Yes, I understand that I must be patient," sighed he-who-yearns, sitting down on his haunches. “In fact, the other day, Daggerclaw told me that the wait is very much worth it. Even so, there still are times when I cannot help but wonder just how much longer I must wait."

“Ah, I remember having those thoughts too, back when I was your age," said Fang, reminiscing. “Our soma feels incomplete without vanni, does it not? It simply yearns for the warmth of a human mate, as doing so is in our very nature. Fortunately, the bond between vanni and lycca is inevitable. As such, nothing can come between your fated vanni and you. Your meeting with her is simply a matter of time."

“A matter of time..." repeated the younger wolf to himself, shifting his tail to a side.

“Alright! Care to pick up that bear trap, son of Darkhowl? We are taking it with us."

He-who-yearns stood up with a start.

“W-what? Why?" he asked, alarmed.

“Because some of our vanni can sell them in other towns as scrap metal."

“N-no, I mean— Will it not hurt me?"

“Oh, no, no. Once sprung, it is no longer dangerous — see?" said Fang as he poked the closed trap with his forepaws. “And even if you were hurt by one of these, it would only be a matter of waiting until nighttime for Mother Moon's light to heal you."

“True, but I would rather be in no pain at all if I can help it..."

“Hahahah, I cannot argue with that!" heartily laughed Fang. “Alright, fine, fine. I am carrying it today, but next time you will!"

And so, the two lycca wolves resumed their patrolling.

CONVERSATION 5 (OF 6) - ROSE

One day, on her way to visit Elise, Rose passed by he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero's den. Anabelle's son was outside, painting a knee-high boulder, and the wild black-furred huntress simply had to stop and ask:

“Hey there, kiddo. What are you doing?"

“Oh! A good day to you, Miss Rose-vanni! I am just painting this boulder," the young male politely answered.

“Yes, I can see that. Why are you doing it, though?" Rose said, markedly stressing the 'Why.'

“Ah, well, my future vanni will need something to sit on. I tried making a chair, but... that did not go very well. He-who-kicks and he-who-claws suggested I get a boulder instead. The problem is, I want my den to be special, so I figured a regular boulder will simply not do."

“Ah, I see. So you're painting it to make it 'special,' right?"

“Yes, indeed!" cheerfully exclaimed Anabelle's son, clearly quite happy with himself.

“Oh, you..." Rose said as she shook her head somewhat disapprovingly. “Listen, Littlep— Ack, I mean, what are they calling you these days again?"

“W-well, I do not have a name currently... But most lycca call me 'he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero,' or 'he-who-yearns' for short..."

“Yeah, okay, well..." Rose began as she took a few steps closer. “I know you want to impress your future vanni and all, but I think you might be losing sight of what really matters here. You see, it's not about your den. It's about you. Besides, for her to even see this, she has to have already bonded with you — or with any other lycca, since no vanni can enter Howling Grove otherwise!"

Anabelle's son did not know what to say in response. He just stood there in frozen stupor.

“You know? It's kind of funny how you keep asking every male in the grove about how to score a vanni for yourself and whatnot," the huntress continued as she waved her black tail ominously behind her. “But has it ever occurred to you to just cut out the middleman and ask us instead?"

“I... I..." pitifully tried he-who-yearns while looking at the ground with his ears flat and a burning sensation on his furry cheeks. “I just... I did not think it appropriate to... to..."

Rose grinned evilly.

“What?" she said. “Too embarrassed to admit to a vanni that you're dying to bury your bone someplace warm, tight, and wet?"

The young male, utterly mortified, was unable to respond.

“Heheheh, well..." said Rose as she casually leaned sideways, shifting her weight onto one leg. “If you want, I can tell you the secret to having your vanni surrender herself to you in an instant."

He-who-yearns' ears sprang up immediately, although he himself remained silent; his eyes firmly downcast. The huntress chuckled, amused by his reaction.

“Hahahah, I can see your ears are very interested in hearing more!" she exclaimed. “Alright, I'll tell you the secret. You won't believe how simple it is! But it's true, even if no one else will ever admit it."

Anabelle's son tentatively raised his gaze off the ground, trying to meet Rose's with varying degrees of success.

“The truth is," she began, “that lycca have everything in their favor when it comes to wooing a vanni. You have an invincible weapon that will topple even the strongest barriers a female could put up between her body and you. Wield that weapon, use it, and she will drop to her knees before you without fail."

“An... invincible... w-weapon?" the younger male cautiously asked, wondering what it could possibly be.

“Yep. And if you haven't figured it out yet, that weapon is what you guys call 'tongue-bonding.' Believe it or not, that's the key to everything."

The werewolf's amber eyes widened. Of course he knew what tongue-bonding was, and that it was one of the three pillars of a completed soma bond. But he certainly never thought of it as 'the key to everything,' as Rose had put it!

“I couldn't tell you why, though. Some kind of magic, maybe?" she continued, “But the point is, your lyccan tongues feel unbelievably amazing in our mouths. They make our minds melt into a puddle of heavenly bliss. So you want to breed your fated vanni? Take her breath away with a spectacular tongue kiss, and she's yours. That's it! That's the secret!"

“Is... Is it really that easy?" he asked after a few moments.

“It is! I mean, as long as we're talking about your fated vanni, of course. Try it on a claimed female, and chances are you'll end up with a black eye instead!" she said with a toothy grin, raising a fist for added emphasis. “Regardless, when the time comes for the forest to bring you a woman, don't just go and tongue-bond her as soon the two of you meet. First you have to talk to her, earn her trust, and all that stuff. After all, there cannot be a legitimate soma bond without consent, you know?"

“Oh, of— of course! I would never force a vanni to kiss me against her will, whether our tongues hold that kind of power or not! No lycca would do such a thing, ever!"

“I know, but it never hurts to keep it in mind anyway. Don't forget that the human world — from where we come — is full of self-serving males who are very much okay with treating vanni like dirt. In that regard, lyccan chivalry is like a nice breath of fresh air to us... I mean, once we get past the fact that you guys are huge wolf werebeasts with giant claws and fangs!" she laughed.

“Well... I do certainly hope to one day be a hero to a vanni," humbly spoke Anabelle's son. “That has been my greatest dream ever since I can remember."

“A hero, huh? That's easy too. The way I see it, all you really need to do to be a hero in this world is... to simply be a decent guy — someone who can actually treat a girl as a fellow human being. Nothing more."

“I can do that. Well, maybe not the 'fellow human being' part, since I am not a human, but I know what you mean."

Rose laughed.

“I don't doubt it!" she cheerfully exclaimed, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. “I know you'll make a vanni very happy someday, kiddo."

“I hope so! And I also hope that 'someday' comes sooner rather than later!"

“It will come. And when it does, remember my words, and everything will turn out alright," the huntress stated with a complicit wink.

“Will do, Miss Rose-vanni! Thank you for your advice; I really, truly appreciate it!"

“No problem, kid! Ah, but maybe try to keep this conversation a secret if you can help it, okay? The less your mother knows about it, the better," whispered Rose in a conspiratorial tone as she leaned closer to him.

“Oh? B...but I thought Mother and you were friends?"

“We are friends! It's just that she sometimes thinks I'm a bad influence for some reason. Can you believe it? Me? A bad influence? Crazy, right?"

The young male just laughed noncommittally, leaving it to Rose to interpret his chuckle however she best preferred. Once she left, Anabelle's son tried to go back to painting his boulder, but his mind was elsewhere. Eventually, he found himself scrambling to wash the paint away when he realized he had somehow painted the naked torso of a human female onto the boulder.

CONVERSATION 6 (OF 6) - DARKHOWL

Another full year had passed. Anabelle and Darkhowl's son, now a fully developed, five-year-old adult werewolf, sat beside a nearby creek next to his father.

“So it is that time of the year again," the bigger male spoke. “Once more, the ninth month has come — 'September,' as humans call it."

“Yeah..." pensively nodded the younger one.

“That means the forest will soon deliver its silent call — the one which only the soma of a vanni can hear," Darkhowl said before turning to his son. “So, how are you feeling?"

“How am I feeling?" repeated the son, pondering that question inwardly. “Hmm... I would say I am feeling... curiously calm, Father."

“Calm, you say?"

“Yes, well... I feel like I have already done all that was in my power. My den is as ready as it will ever be, and so am I. At this point, all I can do is be patient and trust in the will of the forest. That is a fact I have simply come to terms with, I suppose."

“Ah, how far you have come, my son," proudly sighed Darkhowl. “If I recall, Littlepaws was not precisely the embodiment of patience, but look at you now!"

He-who-yearns chuckled.

“Littlepaws was a cub, and I am afraid that it is not a cub's job to be patient, Father!" he said with a mirthful smile. “But as I matured, that impatience pushed me into asking questions and listening to my pack brothers, hoping to gain something from their experiences. Two years later, I can now say that I heard the stories of every male in the pack, and learned from each and every one of them."

“And what did you learn?" asked the big alpha werewolf, flicking an ear.

“Too many things to name. But perhaps the most important thing I learned is that it does not really matter which lycca a vanni chooses to bond with. What actually matters is that she will be saved all the same," confidently stated the son, raising his gaze towards the horizon. “Indeed, that vanni will gain her well-deserved freedom, and the pack will grow one lycca-vanni stronger. So, even if another year goes by without my fated vanni finding her way into my arms, I will still be happy, for it would only mean one of my pack brothers got to embrace his. And that is enough."

Darkhowl sighed with a smile upon his canine lips.

“Son, I thought I could not possibly be more proud of you... but I was wrong," he said. “After hearing you speak those words, I can finally say you have grown to become my equal — my brother-in-spirit — and I could not be happier for that."

“Your... brother-in-spirit?"

“That is right, and I am not saying this lightly. You know 'brother' is a word that holds a deep meaning for us lycca. After all, although our earthly bodies are born of vanni, in spirit we are all the children of Mother Moon," Darkhowl explained, resting a clawed hand on he-who-yearn's shoulder. “Thus, if you would allow me, I would like to welcome you to my family once more — except this time not as 'just' my son, but as an invaluable wolfpack-brother of mine as well."

“Oh, Father," said the son as he felt tears welling up. “Of course I accept. And I promise I will do my best to be a lycca-brother you and everyone else in the pack can be proud of."

“I think you already are, my son. And you will always be."

With that, father and son fused in a heartfelt embrace. And that is how Anabelle found them moments later, when she arrived to where they were.

“So here are my two favorite lycca in the world!" she warmly said as she walked up to them. “Uh... Wait, am I interrupting something?"

“Ah, my beloved snow-white angel-vanni," said Darkhowl as he beckoned her. “I was just telling our son how proud I am to have gained a new brother in him."

Anabelle blinked confusedly at first, but she quickly figured out that Darkhowl had just recognized their son as a peer, which likely was a step further than 'simply' being an adult lycca.

“Well, it looks like I've just missed an important conversation," said the she-werewolf with the white coat of fur as she held her son in her motherly arms. “But that's okay. As long as I can still hug you like this, you can be your father's brother or whatever else you'd like."

Both father and son laughed a bit at that.

“Ah, Mother..." said the latter, smiling. “I promise you: no matter where life might take me, I will never ever refuse your embrace... For even if I might no longer be the tiny cub you once nurtured, I will always be your son."

And so, after the three of them had reaffirmed their familial bonds through several minutes of nuzzling one another, Anabelle turned to her son and spoke:

“You know, it's surprising to see you this calm and relaxed at this time of the year, but I'm not complaining. It's much better than seeing you all stressed and in a constant state of alert, as you were last September. Still though, what happened?"

“That is precisely what Father and I were talking about," said the younger male. “I simply realized that there is no use in stressing over something I cannot control. So, from now on, I shall let the tides of fate do as they will. After all, whatever the forest decides, one vanni will be saved all the same. And that is all that truly matters."

The selfless maturity of those words stunned Anabelle into silence. As her heart swelled with pride, she eventually said: “Son, if the forest doesn't bring you a vanni right now, I don't know what the hell it's thinking."

He-who-yearns laughed at his mother's sudden outburst.

“Hahahah, it is going to be alright, Mother. I—"

The young lycca froze in place. His ears twitched. His nostrils flared...

“T—there is something..." he began to say as he kept sniffing at the air.

“S-son? What's going on?" Anabelle asked, slightly alarmed.

“Mother, I... I am sensing a strange scent. It is... sweet... and—"

His eyes got very big as a gasp suddenly escaped through his lips. “F-Father!" he urgently exclaimed as he turned towards him.

“Go!" was all Darkhowl said in response.

He-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero did not need to be told that twice. The young lycca took off immediately, disappearing among the trees in a matter of seconds. Anabelle tried to run after him, but her mate swiftly grabbed her by the wrist, preventing her from going anywhere.

“Darkhowl? W-what the—?!"

Darkhowl simply shook his head.

“Let him go, my angel-vanni. If this is what I think it is, we need not to be there," he said.

As the realization dawned on her, Anabelle stopped struggling at once, prompting the big werewolf to let go of her wrist accordingly. “B...but..." she stuttered. “W-what was that he said about a sweet scent?"

“When a vanni who hears the call of the forest enters the woods, a uniquely sweet fragrance will let his destined lycca know that she is waiting for him. No other lycca can smell it. That is how we know exactly which of us the vanni's soma has chosen to potentially bond with," Darkhowl explained as they both looked in the direction their son had speeded off towards. “Of course, whether or not a bond is actually formed is an entirely different matter..."

Hearing that last statement made Anabelle remember that the first vanni Darkhowl had met ended up choosing her marriage over him. It was an understandable decision that nonetheless caused both of them much grief. The white she-werewolf couldn't help but pray that something similar didn't happen to her son.

“So, what now?" she eventually asked with a restless wave of her tail.

“Now we wait," the large alpha male responded in turn. “I am afraid that this is their moment, not ours, so we have no business being anywhere near them right now."

As these words were spoken, the colors of dusk began to tint the sky a purplish orange hue.

“How long do you think it's going to take?" Anabelle asked.

“That is hard to say. It could be a few hours, or a couple days, or maybe even as long as—"

Darkhowl couldn't finish, as he-who-yearns-to-be-a-hero was suddenly back before them. He was panting, his fur was soaked in cold sweat, and he had a panicked expression on his face.

But that wasn't all...

In his arms lay a young blonde of perhaps twenty springs of age, clad in ragged, bloodstained clothes. She was limp and motionless, her eyes were closed, her face was almost blue, and perhaps most importantly... there was a noose hanging from her neck.

To be continued...