Violya

Chapter 6 Darrio

6

DARRIO

“Let’s hunt,” Warrio announced, standing to all fours.

He stretched out his back by reaching with his front legs, keeping his muzzle close to the ground and sticking his tail in the air. He reversed the move by dropping his backside, pushing out his back legs and standing up on his front ones, sticking his nose in the air. He emitted a low, satisfied groan. He popped up to stand on two legs, bent his head to each side and flexed his muscles. His glossy brown fur rippled.

He has grown tall and strong, Darrio thought, my son the warrior.

Darrio’s daughter, Sarrya, did not stir. She rested on her belly, front legs outstretched and her head placed on top of them. Her tail straight out behind her. The patch of dirt where she lay was at the crest of a hill, in the space under a huge, fallen tree. The exposed, gnarly roots framed her in a spiky, twisted half-circle. The grey, sun-bleached tangle kept off the snow and protected them from the bitter northerly wind.

Darrio was curled up with his eldest pup, Harro, grooming the yearling’s fur. Harro had not grown in the same way as his brother and sister. He looks more wolf, more like me.

“Come on,” Warrio insisted, nudging Sarry’s neck with his nose. “We lie here all day.”

“Visitors,” Sarry mumbled, ignoring his pestering.

“Where?” Warrio made a show of sniffing the air and scanning the forest. “Pappy,” he bounded over to Darrio and put his front paws on his father’s ribs, tail wagging, “let’s hunt.”

“Wait. We go when visitors have come,” Darrio replied.

Warrio sighed. He rolled his shoulders and, after a moment’s consideration, leapt onto Sarry, who barked in surprise. They tussled and yipped, each attempting to take the other’s muzzle in their mouths, nipping at ears and striving to pin the other to the ground.

“Always the same,” Harro said.

Darrio snorted. Harro, his serious boy.

Harro watched his siblings scrap then launched himself at them, joining in the game. Sarry and Warrio were not as rough with their smaller sibling as they were with each other. The trio yapped and snapped, kicking up dirt as they twisted and folded around one another.

It had been two moon cycles since the tigers had pushed the wolf army north across the river and out of the Lost Lands. Since Sarry had saved Harro and negotiated a truce with the tigers and, by association, the Peqkians the beasts fought for.

“I command the wolf army,” Sarry had declared, on that day, and not one wolf had objected. They had returned to their dens to lick their wounds and mourn their dead. And life in Zwullfr had returned to relative normality. Old packs reformed, newly single alphas paired up and new dominant breeding pairs split off to form new packs. The wolves hunted, staked claims on their territory, watched juvenile wolves and pups grow.

But life wasn’t the same. The battle with the Peqkians loomed over them like the blackest of clouds, and all in Zwullfr knew it wasn’t done.

Darrio and his three pups had returned to the Wulhor-Aaen den. The alpha, Arro, had welcomed them back but it no longer felt like home. Darrio and his pups were now outsiders, because of Sarry. The first standing female in Zwullfr and now the wolf who tamed the tigers and claimed control of the army.

Arro, devastated at the loss of his mated female, Lurra, in the war, understood he must rebalance the pack. He took a new alpha female, who had lost her mate and most of her pack. She brought to the Wulhor-Aaen den three newborns and two yearlings, and Arro adopted them readily. His remaining packmates accepting them without question.

But Darrio recognised the signs: the not sharing of hunt meat, the backs turned against him and his pups at rest, the alpha male barely speaking to them.

It was Harro’s idea to find their own den. “We our own pack now,” he had said. Harro the Wise.

Arro had gracefully and gratefully let them leave. They had gone to the secret thicket, which became their rest area, and this mound of dirt under the fallen tree had become their daytime space. Their lives had forever changed.

A scent on the wind. Two wolves from a distant pack. Darrio grunted at his pups, sniffing the air. The tussle ceased as the pups caught the scent. Warrio moved down the hill to stand on all fours, in front of his sister. Darrio moved next to Warrio while Harro stayed back, to one side of his sister.

Sarry sat at the top of the small hill with the tangle of roots fanned out behind her.

Two light-grey wolves slunk into view, low to the ground and tails down. Submissive. They paused to ensure they had been seen, and then continued creeping forward until they crouched on their bellies at the bottom of the small hill. Eyes down, ears lowered, fur flat. One carried a hunk of meat on a bone, the other a freshly caught rabbit.

“Welcome,” Sarry said.

She had become better at receiving wolves. At first, they had found it odd that so many came to pay their respects. But soon it was accepted as a near-daily occurrence, one which they embraced.

One lone wolf had attempted to take Sarry down, howling that she was an abomination who cavorted with tigers. That attack had prompted the current formation. Although Darrio knew Sarry could fight – she was the strongest of all of them and had decisively stopped the lone wolf in his tracks with one swipe of her paw – they did not want to take that risk again.

The larger of the grey wolves dropped her hunk of meat. “Tiger tamer, Sarrya, Darrio’s daughter, I am Zerra of the Arracht-Aaen and this is my son Navrro.”

Sarry nodded and the smaller of the two dropped the rabbit.

“We travelled many nights across Zwullfr to honour you. Our pack not in war, did not hear in time to come. But we have heard now of your bravery. Will be ready to fight when you call us. Will not be late again.”

“Thank you, Zerra of Arracht-Aaen.”

“My son of age to form pack. Is yours to mate with.”

Darrio had lost count of how many wolves had been presented to Sarry to mate with, to form a pack as the alpha pair. Sarry had rejected them all.

“This my pack. Father and brothers. All I need. But thank you for offer. Navrro, you will form a great pack. First mated female will die in whelping. Don’t despair. You find another who is stronger within a moon.”

Navrro’s eyes widened and the older wolf crouched lower.

“Appreciate gift. Will send word when you are needed,” Sarry said and she turned her back to them to show they were dismissed.

The two grey wolves backed away, keeping shoulders low and head to the ground. When they had reached a respectable distance to show Sarry their backs, they turned and ran into the woods. Darrio watched them with his one eye until he could no longer see or smell them.

Warrio dove on the hunk of meat and devoured it. Sarry grabbed for the rabbit. Harro shrugged. His appetite was not as big as his siblings, but Sarry tossed a rabbit leg to him and he ate. She nudged the other leg toward her father.

Warrio licked his lips. “Now, we hunt. Only made me hungrier.”

Sarry chewed down her meat in one go and sprinted into the forest, Warrio on her heels. Darrio and Harro picked up their rabbit legs and followed.

“Pappy and I go to Peqkya tomorrow,” Sarry announced as they settled down for the night in the centre of the secret thicket, bellies full of elk from a successful hunt.

Darrio’s shoulders tensed and fur prickled. His head shot up and he turned his one eye to stare at his daughter.

“Peqkya!” Warrio spat the word and scrambled up to sitting. “Murderers. Thousands of wolves dead. Twice took the Lost Lands from us. You tame tigers, but tigers follow Peqkian orders. You go to take revenge?”

“No. Friends. Need our help.”

Warrio stood to all fours, his hackles raised and tail high. His lip curled back to show sharp fangs. “Not friends, Sarry. Enemies,” he snarled. “You fight them not long past.”

“Because then did not know. Now, understand,” Sarry said. She lay on her side, completely at ease.

“Know what?” Warrio shouted in his sister’s ear.

Sarry’s ear twitched but she did not rise to the challenge. “The enemy comes. From east. Must fight with Peqkians if we are to prevail. Not against.”

“Enough, sister.” Warrio swiped Sarry across the jaw. She yelped at the viciousness and sat up.

Darrio sprung up and bundled into Warrio, clamping his son’s muzzle in his jaw. Darrio was now smaller than his son, but Warrio submitted to his father out of respect. Darrio eased the pressure on Warrio’s muzzle and snapped his jaws in warning.

“Family. No violence.”

Warrio’s eyes narrowed and his nose crinkled as he showed Darrio his teeth.

“Should not go Peqkya,” Warrio said as he shrunk away into a corner of the thicket. “Wolves need you here. Their new pack leader. Pappy united the packs, you lead them.”

“Yes,” Sarry replied. “To lead, we go to Peqkya.”

Warrio huffed and turned his back, lying down in a tight coil, his nose a hair’s breadth from the sharp thorns of the undergrowth that sheltered them.

Darrio rolled onto his side, back against Warrio to give him a small comfort.

“Sarry,” he said gently. “Peqkya dangerous. Wolves not welcome.”

“Wolves welcome,” Sarry replied as she sniffed at the ground and pawed it before lying down again.

“Warrio stronger, take him,” Darrio said.

Sarry raised her voice to ensure her brothers heard. “Warrio and Harro stay. Greet wolves that come. Keep order. Rule for me.”

Darrio felt Warrio’s back stiffen against his own. Harro, silent until now, licked his lips noisily to indicate he’d understood.

“Sarry, cannot simply enter Peqkya,” Darrio insisted.

“Can. And will, Pappy.”

“Sarry—”

“Pa,” Sarry cut him short, “You do not want to come, but you must. I need you. You are wise, you guide me. You are my father.”

“As you are my daughter.”

***

Harro saw Darrio and Sarry off from the thicket. They touched noses and rubbed against each other, snuffling fur to take in their scents. Warrio had disappeared before they had awoken, and had not returned. Sarry shrugged it off, but Darrio was desperate to see his son before they left. He did not think they would return.

As Darrio and Sarry jogged south towards the bank of the Great River, Darrio said, “Sarry, do not know way.”

“We find a way,” Sarry replied.

“How so certain about these things?”

Before she could answer Warrio jumped into their path, hackles raised, teeth bared and snarling viciously. “Do not go to Peqkya. Will not let you. Enemies do not deserve help.”

“Warrio, son…” Darrio started but Sarry surprised him and lunged at Warrio.

She clamped her jaw around Warrio’s neck, shook it violently and then rolled back and over so that Warrio spun in the air and slammed down on his side. He scrambled to his feet and rammed into her, snapping at her neck. Both wolves emitted a high-pitched whine.

Darrio shouldered into them, forcing both off their feet. “Family! No violence!”

He grabbed at the scruffs around their necks, stood to his two back legs and yanked them apart. Holding them to either side of him. Both attempted to wriggle free of his grip, but he held them tight.

“Pups,” he rumbled in the same tone he used when they were scrabbling newborns. “Behave.”

Warrio shook himself free of Darrio’s grip and licked at a s***h on his leg that Sarry had inflicted.

Darrio dropped Sarry and stood between them. She clamped her jaw together and refused to look at either of them.

“We go to Peqkya. You and Harro stay,” Darrio said.

Sarry trotted away towards the riverbank.

Darrio watched her back and turned to Warrio. His son’s chest heaved, and his brow was scrunched tight in anger.

“Sister is unique. Must trust her.” Darrio licked Warrio’s wound and nuzzled his neck.

“She is strong,” Warrio muttered. He head-bumped Darrio and turned his eyes down in respect and submission. “Be safe, Pappy. Come home.”

Darrio snorted a goodbye in his son’s ear, and then took off after his daughter.

Sarry was waiting for him nearby and they fell in line, padding through the snow.

She kept her head lowered and bumped her body against Darrio. “Sorry, Pappy.”

He continued to run and did not look at her.

“Warrio will betray us,” Sarry said in a small voice.

Darrio stopped, turned to her. She could not meet his eyes.

“Have sense of what to come,” she explained.

“Do not believe it. Cannot believe it,” Darrio replied.

Sarry kept her head low. “Don’t know when or what form future takes, but know... Just like knew tigers would not harm me.”

Darrio remained silent. Sarry had not mentioned how she had negotiated with the tigers for Harro’s release and return. How she had not been slaughtered herself. He wanted to know, had asked her, but until now, she had not been ready to tell.

Sarry continued, “Tigers answer to her, Pappy, the stone female from my dreams. She summoned me to them. I… I spoke feline. They said I was The One the stone female, Sybilya her name, had been seeking.”

“The One?”

Sarry shrugged.

“Spoke feline?”

Sarry shrugged again. Darrio nudged her cheek with his own and she met his gaze.

“Say something in feline.”

“No, Pappy,” Sarry laughed, suddenly shy. “Come on.”

They set off running once again. Soon they reached the river and ran out on the ice along the bank, skidding here and there. When they came to the edge of the ice, Darrio hesitated but Sarry sploshed straight into the freezing water. Darrio took a deep breath and followed. The chill hit him like a heavy tiger swipe and for a while he struggled to exhale the breath stuck in his frozen lungs.

He chased after his daughter, and they swam together for the other side, breaking through ice until they heaved themselves up onto the southern bank.

Both shook out their fur and rubbed themselves together for warmth.

Darrio looked up at the mountains that loomed before them and marked the border of Peqkya.

“Where now?” he said to Sarry.

A strange, purring voice answered. “This way.”

Darrio yapped in surprise and wheeled about to see a pack of one hundred tigers, fangs bared, creeping out from the darkness of the forest, surrounding them. Darrio moved close to Sarry and crouched into a fighting stance.

The tigers hissed and Darrio snarled in return. Sarry was silent, flicking her eyes from one beast to the next. Their slathering jaws came at them.

“Sarry,” Darrio said, for the last time, as he prepared to attack.

He knew he and his daughter had no chance of survival. They would meet their end here in the Lost Lands, just a few paces from their home.

Sarry stood to her full height and produced her roaring howl. It echoed throughout the trees and was thrown back at them by the mountains. It silenced the tigers; it stunned him. He shook with the power of it and glanced at his daughter, awaiting her instruction as to their plan of attack.

She was powerful, more so than he realised. Perhaps… perhaps they had a chance.

But the howl was not a declaration of her strength, it was a greeting.

Her eyes brightened and as the howl tailed off, a smile played across her lips. She dropped to four legs and bounced up and down, hind legs to forelegs in a display of joy, wagging her tail and allowing her tongue to loll happily from her mouth.

Astonished, Darrio flicked his attention from her to the beasts.

The tigers roared in delight. And then they kneeled.