Concrete

In the grey stone canyons I saw the wolf. It was hard to see his pelt against the smoke and haze, but he was there. He was for a moment more concrete, more solid, than the aggregate of civilisation's experience. And then he winked, and was gone.

I stood for a moment in surprise. Then I heard a mocking caw, the cry of ravens since Noah, "Ark! Ark!"

I looked up, and for a moment there was an amber eye laughing in the darkness. There were amber eyes laughing in the grey. And I felt almost like an insect trapped in that amber. Until I too saw wolf and raven clearly, and was free.

The Family

I sat in the park. It was a warm, bright, humid day. The trees and grass and flowers provided a beautiful, very restful backdrop. The Emissary sat down next to me. Where there was old scarred wood and a touch of age, an elder statesman in smart casuals now sat. I gave a little start, waking from the daydream of the afternoon.

"Well, young wolf, will you stand forth in the hour of need?"

I was silent. It is hard for a wolf to break clan just for clanship. It is an odd and contrary thing for wolves, even the lone ones.

"You do not ally with the bear just because he claims to have nurtured you."

"I don't; I make it a point to tell the bear that I don't treat him as my defender or my nurturer or my personal ifrit."

"Then take up the cause of the family. Be a leader. And be the master of the bear."

"It is nothing new that you say to me. But to be what you would have me be, I will have to give up the nurture of young wyverns."

"Not really. Slay the bear and you can have all the wyverns you want."

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It was a warm, bright, humid day. I sat up with a start. I was still sitting alone on my bench. Nothing had changed. Really.