Meant to Be
Silverfang, a captain of his wolf clan, relinquishes the defense provided by his cold logic in favor of the warm, nurturing touch of his most trusted companion.
The following snippet is an excerpt from my published short story "Meant to Be." You can read the whole story by going to the following links and purchase it on Amazon or Smashwords
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Silverfang walked towards the barracks. His paws fell onto the dusty ground, stirring small clouds with every step. He couldn't remember the last time it rained on the Devastated Plains. Few did. Water had to be spell-shifted from minerals, just like the barracks had to be spell-shifted from sand.
The one standing before Silverfang was larger than the rest, yet it shared the same simple structure. Black stone, still marked with the patterns of the sand, no windows to let the light in, and only a rectangular door to enter or leave. It looked drab, but nobody cared. Not during war.
The white wolf looked at the star speckled sky. There were a lot more twinkling dots up there than wolves prowling the streets. A group of three raised their paws as he passed by, then placed them on the emblem of their brightsteel armor as the military salute instructed. Silverfang repeated the gesture. He had to do that several times before entering the building. For a captain, battles seldom left the field. They just changed their nature, nothing more.
"Moon's grace upon you, captain," one of the guards saluted.
"There's no moon tonight to grace me, Arv."
The black wolf tilted his head curiously "It's not late enough. Wait a couple more hours. You'll see it."
"In my dreams, maybe."
"The captain doesn't do night patrols, mate," the other guard, a gray wolf with a snowy muzzle, intervened.
"Really?" Arv the black asked.
"The scouts do a better job. Leave patrolling to them," Silverfang said and brushed against the black wolf. Their armors rattled, and Arv took a step back, whining an apology.
"He did that on purpose. Lovely bastard, he is." The gray wolf's gruff voice dispersed in the wails of the door. The old thing cried when it swung open. Silverfang slunk in, then pushed the shut door behind him. This time, it closed with a soft click.
Darkness surrounded him. That, and the faint emerald blaze of the ever-burning lamps mounted on the walls. Several pairs of eyes stared at Silverfang, shining in the faint luminescence.
No words were exchanged. The wolves turned back to their bowls or placed their heads back on the ground, joining the rest of the pack. Most were already asleep, curled in their straw beds like puppies snuggled under their mother's chest. Only a few still lingered on the other side of the room, lapping lazily at the stale water filling their bowls. Silverfang saw Serda the Scout and Anryl the healer among the late nighters. Both made for interesting company, especially when something as drab as water kept them awake.
He approached Anryl first. The snowy wolf saluted, dipped his head, and walked towards his cot with nothing but a short whimper leaving the length of his black splotched muzzle.
"Nothing you'd like to share with me?" Silverfang asked.
"Tomorrow," Anryl swished his bushy tail, not even bothering to look back.
"Tomorrow, then," Silverfang agreed, and with that, he leaped into his bed and curled up just like the others.
"Tomorrow. Everybody says that, but nobody does anything different when tomorrow comes," a lighter voice breezed through the silence. "I miss the times when we gathered near the fire and shared stories instead of...this. It is..."
Her words trailed off.
Silverfang perked up. In the gloom, her brown coat appeared mostly dark. Only the white streaks dashing across her sides retained some semblance of their natural color, along with her glimmering eyes. They were green, just like the lamps, and shared the same intensity.
"Will you join me, or is this a courtesy visit?" She turned towards her bowl, almost afraid to hear what Silverfang had to say.
"I'll join you," Silverfang said, then dropped onto the hard floor and padded over to her. "No need for formalities." His paw shifted on top of hers as his gaze took in her emerald one.
Serda looked to her paw, then back at him. "Tell that to the captains."
"I am one of them."
She swished her tail, catching Silverfang on the side. Unlike his back, his flanks were only protected by fur.
"I meant the big ones. You are one of us, Silver."
"Even if I bark orders at you?" Silverfang tried to smile, but it came out wry.
"Even so," Serda lowered her head and lapped at the bottom of her empty water bowl. Her tongue pushed it against the wall with a soft clack.
"Are you still thirsty?"
"No, no." She shook her head. "Drinking is just an excuse to pass the time."
He acknowledged that with a dip of his head. Not all days passed smoothly. Some of the squad slept tight after a day on the field. Others, like Serda, needed a bit more time to come to terms with whatever bothered them.
"So why are you up? Silverfang asked, sniffing the stale water that found refuge inside his own metallic bowl.
"Reminiscing. " She sat on her haunches and looked away. "Thinking of the past sometimes reveals answers for the future."
Silverfang looked in the same direction. The door always meant escape from something.
"What year?" Silverfang asked. He tried the water with a few laps of his tongue and then swiped the moisture off his whiskers.
"The last. We almost had those Empire bastards before they sent their Obliterators at us." She switched her gaze towards Silverfang, eyes blazing in the dark. "Do you think we stood a chance against them, captain?"
Silverfang licked his muzzle again and looked at the ground. It was bare and dusty. Dust. That's all that remained of the Endorian hills after the Last Conquest. The Sun Empire had been pushed into a steep corner. Those who didn't fight starved, and the combatants threw themselves with sticks and bows at the SilverClaw Alliance. They stood no chance. Fangs and claws were sharper than any of the tools built by the humans, and the prowess of instincts gave the stalkers superior advantage. Ambushes settled the conflict before it even started.
Soon, the humans remained with nothing. Their territories had been conquered, their race divided, and their legacy extinguished. They had lost everything, aside from innovation. Faced with extinction, they could either adapt or perish. Unfortunately, the first happened. The discovery of minerals changed the ways and rules of the world. Metals had been melted and reformed, and new tools built to suit all manner of purposes. Armed with these new weapons, the Sun Empire pushed into the heart of its enemies, obliterating them one by one until only dust remained in their path.
Silverfang blinked. He followed Serda's example and settled on his haunches. His back felt tense from the weight of the armor, and his paws weary.
"No," he finally spoke. "Laryth took the best call. We did the best with the odds we were given."
Serda didn't appreciate that answer. Her claws scratched at the ground, and her lips twitched with irritation. "We had numbers, Silver. Hundreds of thousands, while the humans-"
"Have just invented the SteelBeasts, forged their Obliterators, and pushed us back," Silverfang interrupted. "You know very well what it takes to bring down even one of those monstrosities. We lived. That is all that matters."
"Lived... You say that like it is some kind of blessing."
"It is."
Gods, that armor was heavy. Silverfang lowered himself on his belly, if only to escape that bothersome weight.
Serda looked away, eyes scanning undecidedly around the room until they fixed themselves on the slush. She licked at the dark sludge inside the food bowl, then growled. The sticky substance grabbed onto her tongue like clogged blood, and refused to let go until her teeth cut it. She licked her twitching lips a few times to clean them and took another lick from the bowl.
Nutrients looked gross and smelled even worse. Not that it mattered. Silverfang got up and padded closer to the female. She was thoroughly distracted, so he rubbed against her side and dug his nose into the exposed fur beneath her chest. She wasn't warm. He could not even tell apart the strings of her fur from the armor that weighted her back.
The female looked into his eyes and pressed her nose against his. Silver felt only a brief pressure, nothing else. He could not tell the difference between her nose or her whiskers, nor feel her breath rolling across his muzzle.
"I believe prolonging our existence is no life at all." Serda drew back and pushed a paw inside the wicked sludge. It submerged into the viscous liquid, and dripped when she pulled it out.
"If we cannot feel, what use do our paws have?" she shook off the grime and placed her paw back on the ground with a squelch. "Why do we even have ears, or nostrils, if we cannot smell the scents latched upon the wind or hear the buzzing of the insects?"
Silverfang had nothing to say. The Last Conquest forced both sides to adapt. Humans had their ingenuity, while the SilverClaw alliance worked around their primal instincts. Their urges were both an advantage and a burden, depending on the situation. Right now, they proved to be the latter.
"We are who we are, Serda," Silverfang said softly. "There's little use reminiscing about the past. It happened. It's done. That is all there is."
"No!" She growled, lips twitching with the soft tinge of anger. "There is a lot more to it, to us, to what we are. You know it. I know it. Why should I even-"
"Keep it low!" Silverfang growled.
Serda lashed back with a paw. Silverfang bowed his head, took the blow, and surged forward, slamming head first into the female. She slammed into the wall with a soft whine.
"Control yourself, female," he barked. "Fall on your belly and remain silent. If you cannot keep your emotions in check, I will see myself out and leave you to your own thoughts."
"I...I understand." Serda walked a few steps away, white fangs revealing themselves from under her twitching lips. "It's just...this is not who we are, Silver. We weren't born into this world to suppress the gifts it bestowed upon us."
Silverfang held his position. Serda was more than irritated. She became difficult whenever her beliefs were threatened. If she lost control, she had to be subdued.
And that's what Silverfang intended to do.
"It's just a few senses," he said calmly. "We had this talk before, Serda. Let it go, just like you did in the past."
"That is not right. A few?" Serda snapped at the air, then pressed a forepaw against the ground. "What am I scratching at, captain?"
"Stone."
"And how can you tell?"
"I learned."
"Through what means?" Serda pressed on.
"You know these answers, Serda."
"Do you? Because this is what our offspring will be born onto. A drab world with nothing but words in it. They will not tell dirt from sand, or even recognize our scents!"
"You are exaggerating. You always do when emotions get the better of you."
"Am I?" Serda turned her head and tapped the glistening rune etched into her armor. "Why does wise Laryth tell us to carry these at all times?"
"For protection," Silverfang said. "You've been with me during the last ambushes."
"Oh yes." Serda approached, fangs glistening with saliva. "We died by the dozens, even with this precious armor weighting our backs. What point is there?"
"To live," Silverfang said with a calm voice.
"To exist, you mean," Serda turned away and started pacing around to vent her frustration. "The ones that perished are the lucky few. Not us. Without the entirety of our senses, we might as well be-"
"Don't say it. Please," Silverfang said, then looked at the ground, unable to match her gaze.
"Why?" Serda asked. "You know everything I say is true."
"I don't deny that, but it still hurts." Silverfang dropped on the ground, tail wrapped around a flank.
"Pain. As if you remember what that feels like." She shut her maw dismissively and resumed her pacing.
She got no answer in return. Silverfang had lived a few years. Some considered that pure fortune. Others, like Serda, branded it as a curse. Silverfang simply didn't know what he believed. He had killed humans in the name of his Packlord, had protected his pack to the best of his ability, and obeyed orders.
Yet even that was not enough. In spite of all the plans and preparations, he still watched his followers perish. Some were simple stalkers he saluted on the chasm runs. Others he called friends. The demise of those stung a bit deeper, and took more time to heal. Silver remembered only flashes from his previous emotions. Debilitating pain was among them, along with an unshakeable sense of guilt. The suppressing armor repressed the simple joys of life, but it had also given a lifeline to those who lived longer than they should.
"I'm sorry," Serda's mellow voice broke through the silence. "It was wrong of me to overreact. I should know better by now."
The soft clicks of claws on bare stone made Silverfang's ears twitch. He looked to his side, where Serda's looming bulk shadowed everything. She settled next to him and pressed her muzzle into his chest. Silverfang was taken aback by this behavior until a drawn out sigh followed.
"I have no right to get irritated, especially not at you. Life is precious, no matter how dull it might seem at times," Serda said. She threw cautious looks in between, afraid for a punishment that never came.
Silverfang comforted her with a soft rub along her neck and a black paw pressed upon hers. "I spoke from experience, not from my heart."
Serda's ears twitched with bewilderment.
"You are right, Serda. Existing is not reason enough to live. I too miss the times before the Last Conquest. If only we met back then..."
Serda's ears perked with curiosity. She whined like a pup, licking at the air and stirring dust with her restless tail. "Let's say we would have. What would you have done?"
Silverfang pushed his nose into her neck and inhaled. "I would have taken in every scent trapped inside your fur." He climbed up, until he met her twitching ear. "Then I would have greeted you like a proper wolf. Paws are warm and soft, but a tongue slides easier along fur. Feels better too." He licked along her cheek, brushing along short fur and unruly whiskers until he reached her nose.
Serda's fur bristled as a shiver washed over her form. A soft, strange sound escaped her maw, a sound that Silver hadn't heard in weeks.
"I...I would have liked that." Her paws pressed against Silverfang's, and her teeth gently tugged on the fur of his neck. The two licked each other only briefly. The sensation of wetness was there, but it lacked the warmth and affection that accompanied it.
It felt lifeless. Forced.
Drab.
"Me too," he said softly as he retreated away from her restless muzzle. "Maybe once the war is over, we can-"
"I don't want to wait that long." Serda's tongue fled back into her maw. "What if you won't be here to keep that promise?"
"You know how stubborn I am, Serda. I can't even remember the last time I bled."
"Indeed. We should just find a couple more wolves with the same expertise and send you all charging at the Empire."
"The war would be over," Silverfang said.
"No more death," Serda added.
"No more suppressors."
"We would live just as the world has intended us to, without humans to break the order of things."
The two looked upon each other. Silverfang saw something inside Serda's eyes. Desire? No. That was one of the secondary senses. What wasn't related to survival could not break through the seal of suppression.
"The chasms are safe," she said, her tail sliding against the dusty floor. "We can go there. Chase each other. Taste a glimpse of true freedom!"
"Serda..."
"Please don't deny it. You want it as much as I do." She pressed her wet nose deeper into his neck and licked thrice. "I cannot be wrong. Not this time."
"You aren't, but-"
"No buts." She scrambled onto her paws. "You'll either come with me, or you won't." She threw him one last glance, then walked away.