[Wild Roses] Trickwood Unification
Title: waiting for the yelling to stop
'Verse/characters: Trickwood Unification; unknowns and Ilne
Prompt: 57C "regret"
Word Count: 1135 1283
Notes: expanded from this spark, within a ten year range of the Baroness Two Rivers incidents.
---------
"Wolf!" came a shout from one of the the platforms on the high walls, and the emplacement scrambled, boys shoving themselves into armour as the archers and the gunmen took their positions.
As always, they had more archers than gunmen. Most of the guns that came up the Uaithne went to one of the barons, either Two Rivers or Ilmatar, and what few remained tended to be old, small. Prone to firing two times in three, so every gunman was flanked by a couple of archers.
A few minutes passed without another shout. Grumbling to himself, the sergeant-at-arms went to find the original spotter. Bad enough they knew they were in for a bad early summer, now there were boys seeing flashes of the dark in daytime.
The boy cringed when he saw the sergeant coming. "I'm sorry, sir--I saw one, I know I did--"
"Sometimes the wolf is just a false alarm," he told the kid reassuringly, patting at his shoulder. The kid was obviously serious, for all he'd been mistaken.
"Sometimes it's not," a deep, unfamiliar voice said from behind his back, and his stomach clenched. He couldn't hear the man approaching--hadn't heard him at all until he spoke--and he was desperately worried he was about to catch forepaws to the middle of his back, be sent tumbling over the edge of the platform.
Instead, a gentle, calloused hand pulled his arm away from the kid's shoulder, twisted it down to join the other behind his back, then securely knotted both his hands into the padding of his coat.
"Sometimes the wolf is a distraction," the voice continued, amused.
The worst thing, the sergeant thought as he sank to his knees, watched the boy drop with him, was that they'd known it was coming.
When one of the scouts found fresh fur caught in a rock crevice, less than a day's hiking over-land from the big harbour, they'd known there would be trouble, and soon. More men were sent to the fortified dens that lurked like heron nests above the harbour and the fields, taken off boat duty and dredging the docking spaces.
Even if the pack had nothing to do with the rumours about a mad, mad human trying to consolidate a power base in the wood of all places, it was the time of year when wolves came to visit because they were bored, and hungry.
The major difference as far as the harbourmasters could see was that wolves that were just hungry weren't generally armed.
It had been expected to be a very long, tense summer, sprinkled with short fights and the occasional body.
It had not been expected to be this. Whatever this was.
The sergeant looked up carefully, finally got a look at his captor as the man did a quick prowl of the platform. The man was tall--tall enough he had to be city born, because he didn't move like he was wolf-blooded--dark haired, boots soundless still as he stalked to the edge of the platform, cast a wary glance over the side.
Someone shouted, words cut off in a snapping of splintering wood, and the man put a hand to the edge of the platform, dropped off it in a graceful, impossible motion that took the sergeant's breath away.
He and the spotter sat there in stunned silence for a moment--men died falling off the platforms--then the kid bit his lip, eyed the sergeant carefully. "Should I untie you, sir?"
"If you wouldn't mind," he replied, turned for the kid to get access to his back.
He was only half untied when someone else came up onto the platform and the kid froze again.
The sergeant looked up, froze himself, because that was a wolf unmistakable, even on two legs and quite pretty by human standards.
"The prince Ruadhan?" she inquired in no more accent than half the traders that came through the harbour, yet still gave the indelible impression she'd perked her ears forward.
"Tall, deep voice, dark hair?" the sergeant asked back, and when the wolf nodded he and the kid both pointed at the empty edge of the platform in unison.
The wolf heaved a sigh through her chest, and flopped down cross-legged next to them. They carefully didn't move.
"Nobody warned us they were this crazy," she remarked, and the sergeant could feel the spotter's eyes on him, waiting for his lead.
"Um. Do you mind if I--" he shrugged his still-bound shoulder, and the wolf blinked, then snickered.
"Go ahead, human. If you get the drop on me I deserve it."
Rotating his arm to get the blood flowing again after the kid finished the work he'd begun, the sergeant, carefully not looking directly at the wolf because he'd heard that was a challenge, said "Why us?"
"We already hit the pack up the mountain," she replied, jerking her thumb up the slope towards where the wolf problem usually came from, "so you were next on the list. Wasn't expecting him to be this direct, though. We're used to fighting in the dark."
The sergeant spent a long, slightly horrifying time imagining what getting tackled by what was apparently a full pack of wolves and at least one extremely crazy human in the middle of the night would have been like.
"I think I'm glad he's direct," he muttered eventually, and the wolf laughed, her teeth briefly visible.
"You humans. We love the sun, too, but we're not afraid of the dark. Only what lives in it."
"Lady, you're part of what lives in it to us," he replied tartly, then had time to regret his words as she reared back slightly, eyes sharpening.
He bit his tongue on the apology, because it'd be pointless--she'd either take it as an invitation to rip his throat out or just shove him off the platform, and no matter what her leader'd done he'd smash at the end of the drop.
The wolf tilted her head, considering him, considering the kid behind him, who was trying to still a case of the shakes, then knelt up, one knee and the balls of her feet touching the platform. "Aye, human, that we are," she told them both. "And that's why you'll lose today, and the the day after that, and the day after that."
She stood, paced to the edge of the platform, glanced over herself but didn't leap off it. "We knew he was crazy, and that his family was crazy, because they trusted us not to go for the throat--I heard a pack-witch tell a story about one of 'em giving her a shot at his neck because he wanted to say hello, and the sun's seen this one pull stunts I wouldn't have expected in a rabid teenager. But, Sergeant--" she looked over at him, met his eyes directly, and it was him who looked away first. "--he sees a wolf, not a piece of the devouring dark."
The sergeant wasn't sure he was relieved when the wolf's head snapped around, looking for some source of noise he couldn't hear yet.
She took two long paces towards the stairs, that put her precisely level with an archer's head as he hit the last flight. Grabbing his bow with her left hand, she used her right to send him sprawling on the stone, almost into the sergeant's boots.
"Afternoon," the sergeant told the archer resignedly.
The archer groaned, rolled over, scrubbed at the scratches in his face, glared up at the wolf, who grinned back, her teeth fully exposed.
"I don't happen to have any rope on me," she told the new arrival cheerfully, "so behave or I'll toss you off the platform."
The archer squirmed backwards towards the other humans, gave the sergeant a white-rimmed worried glance. "She's serious?"
"I wouldn't push her," he replied.
'Verse/characters: Trickwood Unification; unknowns and Ilne
Prompt: 57C "regret"
Word Count: 1135 1283
Notes: expanded from this spark, within a ten year range of the Baroness Two Rivers incidents.
---------
"Wolf!" came a shout from one of the the platforms on the high walls, and the emplacement scrambled, boys shoving themselves into armour as the archers and the gunmen took their positions.
As always, they had more archers than gunmen. Most of the guns that came up the Uaithne went to one of the barons, either Two Rivers or Ilmatar, and what few remained tended to be old, small. Prone to firing two times in three, so every gunman was flanked by a couple of archers.
A few minutes passed without another shout. Grumbling to himself, the sergeant-at-arms went to find the original spotter. Bad enough they knew they were in for a bad early summer, now there were boys seeing flashes of the dark in daytime.
The boy cringed when he saw the sergeant coming. "I'm sorry, sir--I saw one, I know I did--"
"Sometimes the wolf is just a false alarm," he told the kid reassuringly, patting at his shoulder. The kid was obviously serious, for all he'd been mistaken.
"Sometimes it's not," a deep, unfamiliar voice said from behind his back, and his stomach clenched. He couldn't hear the man approaching--hadn't heard him at all until he spoke--and he was desperately worried he was about to catch forepaws to the middle of his back, be sent tumbling over the edge of the platform.
Instead, a gentle, calloused hand pulled his arm away from the kid's shoulder, twisted it down to join the other behind his back, then securely knotted both his hands into the padding of his coat.
"Sometimes the wolf is a distraction," the voice continued, amused.
The worst thing, the sergeant thought as he sank to his knees, watched the boy drop with him, was that they'd known it was coming.
When one of the scouts found fresh fur caught in a rock crevice, less than a day's hiking over-land from the big harbour, they'd known there would be trouble, and soon. More men were sent to the fortified dens that lurked like heron nests above the harbour and the fields, taken off boat duty and dredging the docking spaces.
Even if the pack had nothing to do with the rumours about a mad, mad human trying to consolidate a power base in the wood of all places, it was the time of year when wolves came to visit because they were bored, and hungry.
The major difference as far as the harbourmasters could see was that wolves that were just hungry weren't generally armed.
It had been expected to be a very long, tense summer, sprinkled with short fights and the occasional body.
It had not been expected to be this. Whatever this was.
The sergeant looked up carefully, finally got a look at his captor as the man did a quick prowl of the platform. The man was tall--tall enough he had to be city born, because he didn't move like he was wolf-blooded--dark haired, boots soundless still as he stalked to the edge of the platform, cast a wary glance over the side.
Someone shouted, words cut off in a snapping of splintering wood, and the man put a hand to the edge of the platform, dropped off it in a graceful, impossible motion that took the sergeant's breath away.
He and the spotter sat there in stunned silence for a moment--men died falling off the platforms--then the kid bit his lip, eyed the sergeant carefully. "Should I untie you, sir?"
"If you wouldn't mind," he replied, turned for the kid to get access to his back.
He was only half untied when someone else came up onto the platform and the kid froze again.
The sergeant looked up, froze himself, because that was a wolf unmistakable, even on two legs and quite pretty by human standards.
"The prince Ruadhan?" she inquired in no more accent than half the traders that came through the harbour, yet still gave the indelible impression she'd perked her ears forward.
"Tall, deep voice, dark hair?" the sergeant asked back, and when the wolf nodded he and the kid both pointed at the empty edge of the platform in unison.
The wolf heaved a sigh through her chest, and flopped down cross-legged next to them. They carefully didn't move.
"Nobody warned us they were this crazy," she remarked, and the sergeant could feel the spotter's eyes on him, waiting for his lead.
"Um. Do you mind if I--" he shrugged his still-bound shoulder, and the wolf blinked, then snickered.
"Go ahead, human. If you get the drop on me I deserve it."
Rotating his arm to get the blood flowing again after the kid finished the work he'd begun, the sergeant, carefully not looking directly at the wolf because he'd heard that was a challenge, said "Why us?"
"We already hit the pack up the mountain," she replied, jerking her thumb up the slope towards where the wolf problem usually came from, "so you were next on the list. Wasn't expecting him to be this direct, though. We're used to fighting in the dark."
The sergeant spent a long, slightly horrifying time imagining what getting tackled by what was apparently a full pack of wolves and at least one extremely crazy human in the middle of the night would have been like.
"I think I'm glad he's direct," he muttered eventually, and the wolf laughed, her teeth briefly visible.
"You humans. We love the sun, too, but we're not afraid of the dark. Only what lives in it."
"Lady, you're part of what lives in it to us," he replied tartly, then had time to regret his words as she reared back slightly, eyes sharpening.
He bit his tongue on the apology, because it'd be pointless--she'd either take it as an invitation to rip his throat out or just shove him off the platform, and no matter what her leader'd done he'd smash at the end of the drop.
The wolf tilted her head, considering him, considering the kid behind him, who was trying to still a case of the shakes, then knelt up, one knee and the balls of her feet touching the platform. "Aye, human, that we are," she told them both. "And that's why you'll lose today, and the the day after that, and the day after that."
She stood, paced to the edge of the platform, glanced over herself but didn't leap off it. "We knew he was crazy, and that his family was crazy, because they trusted us not to go for the throat--I heard a pack-witch tell a story about one of 'em giving her a shot at his neck because he wanted to say hello, and the sun's seen this one pull stunts I wouldn't have expected in a rabid teenager. But, Sergeant--" she looked over at him, met his eyes directly, and it was him who looked away first. "--he sees a wolf, not a piece of the devouring dark."
The sergeant wasn't sure he was relieved when the wolf's head snapped around, looking for some source of noise he couldn't hear yet.
She took two long paces towards the stairs, that put her precisely level with an archer's head as he hit the last flight. Grabbing his bow with her left hand, she used her right to send him sprawling on the stone, almost into the sergeant's boots.
"Afternoon," the sergeant told the archer resignedly.
The archer groaned, rolled over, scrubbed at the scratches in his face, glared up at the wolf, who grinned back, her teeth fully exposed.
"I don't happen to have any rope on me," she told the new arrival cheerfully, "so behave or I'll toss you off the platform."
The archer squirmed backwards towards the other humans, gave the sergeant a white-rimmed worried glance. "She's serious?"
"I wouldn't push her," he replied.