The Rogue Chapter Two
The Rogue
Chapter Two
Be warned, this chapter is a bit sad and tragic.
I'm sorry, I just have a flair for that kind of
writing.
He was dreaming again. Back to his pre-teen years.
He remembered the family of wolves he travelled with
in the lush, dense forests of lowlands in County
Westmeath. Those grey wolves treated him like one
their own, taking him on hunting trips, and sharing
the spoils, issuing a rebuke if he stepped out of
line. He had made crude clothes from rabbit skin, and
hare skin. St night, the pack slept together to share
warmth, and because he was fairly big as a child, they
all huddled around him, eager for warmth and wanting
to warm him in return. He found their scents
reassuring, it soothed him, and helped him sleep
peacefully. He always kept a spot for the alpha male,
who was very gentle towards him, who was the biggest
and strongest wolf, and would protect Sean like one of
his own cubs. The alpha would gently clean Sean's face
and head before or while he slept. They were a strong
pack.
Then came the day that Sean became aware of his
lycanthropy. He was out foraging for the pack, and all
of a sudden, his body was racked with the most intense
pain he had ever felt. He lay on the ground writhing,
he body feeling like it was splitting, he felt his
bones break and reform, and his muscles grow and move
about. Two of the wolves from the pack, a young male
and his mate came running at the sound of Sean's
anguished cries. They barked at him, so much as to ask
him what was happeneing. Then, the pain stopped. He
stood. He had burst from his clothes, and he looked at
his body, he was furry, and the wolves were now
growling at him, their hackles raised. He could sense
their thoughts "What have you done to the human cub?"
They thought. He spoke to them "I am him, look", and
he endured an agonising change back to his human form,
and dropped to his knees. The two wolves rushed
forward, and licked at his face frantically, happy
that he was alright.
They got back to the cave where the pack had been
sleeping for the past week. They get back, and all the
other wolves sense something different about their
human cub. He tried changing into a normal wolf, and
it works. But again they growl at him. He slowly walks
to the alpha male, the one that has shown him so much
love, companionship and tenderness with his head and
ears lowered. The alpha bared his fangs, so Sean the
wolf got on his belly, and creeping forward, licked at
the alpha's muzzle in order to display his
subserviance. The alpha accepted this, even though
Sean was marginally bigger, the alpha still didn't
view him as a threat, and as per usual, Sean kept that
spot for the alpha who, as per usual groomed and
cleaned the young wolf.
The alpha female died when Sean was about fifteen.
She had become injured while on a hunting trip, and
her condition had progressively worsened, until one
night while she slept, she died. Sean dug her a grave,
and buried her the next day. As he threw the final
clods of earth and dirt in onto the grave he muttered
in Gaelic "Slan, a mhaithair", which means "Goodbye,
mother". The other wolves howled and howled long into
the night, each one devestated by the loss of their
alpha female. Sean sat at the back of the cave in his
wolf form, sulking, and mourning. The alpha male had
suffered the greatest loss, he had lost his life-mate,
the one he was to spend the rest of his days with. The
alpha lay on his side, wracked with grief. Sean padded
over to the alpha, and nudged him gently with his
nose. The alpha growled, but it wasn't agressive. Sean
lay down with the alpha, looking at the alpha with his
blue eyes, and whining, he licked the alpha's face in
a way that was to show sup! port. Then he lay down in
the curve of the alpha's body, his back to the alpha's
chest, and slept.
As time went, the younger males of the pack got
older, and left to start their own packs. One day, all
that was left of the once twelve-strong pack was the
alpha and Sean. One day they were foraging. Sean was
about seventeen in human years. The alpha was old now,
grey hairs covered the end of his muzzle, and his
ears, but his amber eyes were as bright as they had
always been. They had gotten over the loss of the
alpha female, and had started rutting and mating, as
they could find no females. They were playing in a
small demesne near where Sean had been born, tackling
each other and play biting. Little did Sean know that
his father, the Cheiftan of his old clan was out
hunting. An arrow whizzed between Sean and the alpha.
Sean looked at where it had come from, and without a
second thought, ran at the man, who got another arrow
off, which struck Sean in the shoulder as he leaped at
his father. Sean yelped in pain, but followed through
with the attack, and ripped the throat ! from his
father, savouring the taste of this conceted bastard's
blood, chomping the flesh down. Sean changed to human,
and pulled the arrow from his shoulder, the wound
healing quickly. The alpha mentally asked Sean who had
he just killed, to which Sean replied "My human
father, I remeber seeing him kill my mother. You were
more of a father than he ever was. I'm sure you're
hungry, have some" He brushed affectionately up
against the alpha, who licked Sean in return. Sean
took the silver dagger fropm the body of his father,
and left his remains. That night, he snook into the
camp, and stole the armour his father had owned, along
with some clothes and money, and personal effects.
When Sean was nineteen, the alpha was very, very
old. They had been out hunting and enjoying each
others company. When they had eaten their fill, they
returned to a cave they had made home. Sean still kept
the human belongings here. They played for a bit, and
rutted, but the alpha tired quickly these days. They
lay down sleep that night, and the alpha mentally
wished Sean good "Good night my son. You have given me
so much, companionship, unfaltering love and affection
since the mother wolf died. I don't know where I would
be were it not for you. Now I must sleep. I'm
tired.....so so tired.....". The alpha and Sean slept
as they always did. However, this was one sunrise the
alpha would never see. Like the mother wolf, he had
the fortune of dying painlessly in his sleep. Sean
knew, the alpha had been in his dreams and told him to
take care in life, and whatever he did, the alpha and
the mother wolf would be forever proud. Later that
day, Sean carried the alpha's body to the! place were
the alpha female was buried. He buried the wolf, and
said his goodbyes.
Sean woke again in the tent, his body slick with
sweat, and his face covered in tears. The priest was
there, and noticed Sean was now awake. Sean looked
around sheepishly. "You've been cryin' in yer sleep,
lad. Are ye ok?" he was asked. He replied as he wiped
the tears from his face "Yeah, I'm fine. Just
nightmares of my past." The priest smiled and said "I
won't pry, it ain't my place to." Sean thanked him,
and as he lay there, he could hear this awful wailing
noise carried on the wind that filled his head, made
his ears feel like they were bleeding. He head felt
like it as going to burst, and his body was wracked
painful, agonising spasms. He let out a scream of
agony that made the priest jump and bless himself. He
hurried over to Sean and held a cup of water to his
mouth, but Sean pushed him away, the pain in his head
was so bad he thought he'd pass out. Then it stopped,
and Sean relaxed. He wept, the pain was so bad, and
now it was gone, and he was relieved. The pain ! of
the spasms and headdache still lingered. He got up,
got dressed and went outside the tent to escape the
suffocatingly warm atmosphere inside. It was late
afternoon, still a few hours of daylight to be had. He
noticed his wound felt better, and removed the
bandage. It was almost fully healed, a small open
wound and some swelling. He decided it would be better
for him if he exercised the arm, so he picked up his
hurley and sliotar, (A sliotar, which is pronounced
"shlitor", is the ball used in the Irish sport of
Hurling), and start whacking it around the place. Sean
had an absolutely devestaing right swing with a
hurley, and managed to pull it off, and did
considereable damage to the armoured knight that just
came into view after he hit the sliotar. It hit the
knight's breastplate so hard that it knocked him off
his feet. Sean heard the knight, cry "My ribs, my
ribs!", and went over to help. "I do apologise, sir
knight, had I known you were there, I would not have
loosed my sliot! ar. I daresay, however, had you not
been wearing your plate, it would have killed you. Let
me help you up. There now, I've left a sizeable dent
in your armour, go down to my armourer, tell him what
happened, and he will fix it for free" He bowed to the
knight, who walked to the armourer's tent, clutching
his chest and cursing, his armour clanking and
creaking. "I should have hit him in the head, those
knights are pompous bastards." He muttered to himself.
He continued hitting the sliotar around, and after a
few hours he was exhausted. He headed to the beer
tent. He sat in a corner, alone, the way he liked it,
glaring at anyone that dare sit near him. After a few
pints of cider he was still contemptuous towards
everyone, only a bit more relaxed now. He left the
beer tent to piss, and was accosted by a man larger
than he was. "Hello Brady, what do you want? Can't I
piss in peace?" Brady sneered, "Lucky you was saved by
tha' rogue. I heard he's taken quite a shine t' you...
Found yo! urself a fella, have you?" In the mean time,
Sean had finished pissing and shaken the drops off,
and turned to face Brady head on, and muttered in a
calm voice "Hmm, it's not like you to make taunts like
that unless you have your armour on to protect you.
Tell me, does it hurt being as ugly as you are?" Sean
dodged a sloppy left hook, and laughed a hollow laugh.
He punched Brady in the jaw, and sent him to the
ground. He straddled Brady's chest, and pulled his
face close, a wild look appearing in his eyesm and
whispered "I know you have a family; a wife and
children. I don't want to rob them of you, but heed my
words, I will kill you in cold blood if you persist.
I've skinned people for less than this. Now I suggest
you walk away while your jaw is still intact, and your
eyes are still in their sockets." He got off Brady,
who scrambled up as quickly as his drunken body would
allow, and casting Sean one last dirty look, he ran
away.
It was getting a bit darker as dusk approached, so
he went for a walk, putting on a heavy leine (Long
shirt) and his rabbit-skin and wool cloak. He walked
for a while, and happened upon a dense forest. His
lycan senses picked something up. Feline, about a mile
away. And blood, he could smell blood. Foresaking his
own safety, he followed the smell, and fell a few
times, one such fall caused his shoulder wound to
re-open. He thought that he probably should have
listened to the priest and stayed in the safety of the
camp. He liked the priest, he had a good sense of
humour. Sean shook this thought from his head, and
pressed on. He noticed he was getting closer to his
quarry. After a few minutes of scrabbling through the
undergrowth, he could hear a stream, and the sound of
someone breathing raggedly.
There upon the bank of the stream lay the rogue
that had saved Sean. Sean hid, and watched him. The
rogue collapsed upon the bank, and lay there immobile.
Sean crept towards him, and noticed the blood in the
grass, and rolled the rogue onto his side so he
wouldn't suffocate. He looked for a wound, and saw a
small scar on his right shoulder. Then he pulled the
rogue's eyelid up, and was met with that strange, but
alluring eye shine. Sean dragged him to the shelter
and shade of the nearby trees, he was safer here than
in the camp.