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Benny and The Wolf Tribe

By Dylandy

My life had taken a turn for the worse.

For a lot of people, the prospect of starting a new life in a new world was a fantasy that kept them ticking over to the next day. Maybe one day they could be so lucky as to lose access to all of the modern conveniences they took for granted, or the friends and family they thought didn't care about them. And in exchange they'd live a life of high adventure with a sexy girl on each arm – they'd get to be the apex predator they never were back home.

Of all the people in the world, it had to happen to me. Waking up at the tip of a sword wielded by a large, hairy beast man who resembled a wolf was not my idea of a good morning. I fell out of the majorly pissed tree and hit every branch on the way down. Nobody wanted to give me a hand, and nobody believed me when I tried to share my story with them.

I missed coffee, I missed warm water, I missed modern healthcare that didn't come at the end of a wooden stick with a glass orb stuck to the top of it. I was sick and tired of sleeping in an itchy, dirty fucking sack that the merchant had dared to describe as a high-class sleeping bag. He'd stolen the damn thing out of a local storehouse, I was sure of it. I'd sold my old clothes to get some money together. I didn't really need them and the money was better served keeping myself alive.

I didn't need to dress like a noble. I had nothing.

I submitted myself to back breaking odd jobs around the township I landed in. Menial labour that paid the bills and kept me in fresh food and fresh sheets. This was no way for a man to live. I'd made connections, even some friends, but were they any replacement for the things I'd already lost? Who was to say that I wasn't about to be whisked off again to another, entirely new world?

There was one person within the town who always caught my attention. He was a large, grey wolf. There were several who tended to loiter around the place during the evenings. He stood out because his large, muscular body was covered by what could best be described as mere scraps of cloth, and his fur was stained with various intricate red patterns that held an indiscernible meaning. Was he a man of the land, exploring the edges of modern civilization? Or were my assumptions based on the world that I used to know instead of this new one?

I received my answer several days later. I was doing my usual routine of looking for work. I'd canvas the market first, then several businesses I'd gotten to know. I felt like more permanent work was on the horizon for me, because they'd had nothing but praise for how I'd helped them out so far. That kind of good will went a long way to acquainting yourself with the community. People talked, they really talked. The suspicion that surrounded me, the belief that I was some foreign criminal passing through, had dissipated over the preceding weeks.

As I rounded the corner to reach my next destination, he was there. In the palms of his hands, which were the size of my head, was a small green gemstone tired to a piece of string. As I gazed upon the keepsake, it began to glow brightly. The wolf looked down at me with no small amount of awe on his features.

“Can I help you?" I asked, hoping that he spoke the same language as me.

The wolf was caught off-guard. He didn't know what to say. I could relate – memories of icebreakers and opening days across my entire life flashed before my eyes. “Do you… mind if we speak for a moment?" His voice was gravelly and deep, it rumbled out from his broad chest like an earthquake.

“Okay, I'm not doing much."

He led me away from the oppressive canopy of the houses overhead and towards one of the open spaces dotted between the urban streets. A small park with a large, withered tree in the middle. We sat down on one of the benches. The wolf's body was shaking with some kind of emotion. I just hoped that it wasn't hunger.

“The best way is to jump right in, as my elders would say."

“Is it really that crazy? I'm willing to believe anything at this point."

He held the jade stone up to me, “This stone means much in our culture. Our entire tribe carries a piece with them, it is said to be mined from holy ground, the first nomadic city that our people ever built. The stone itself has magical properties, the purpose is a mystery to most."

“And what does this have to do with me?"

“I know a little of the stone's story, my father told me the tale. It glows when in the presence of a hero."

I shook my head, “A hero? Like those knights you see fighting demons and doing good deeds? I'm no hero. I'm barely keeping myself busy these days."

“You may not be a hero now, but the stone is said to have the power to peer into the future. At the least, you have a good heart." There was no sign of dishonesty in his words, and they were flattering. He had an earnest manner that won me over on the spot. Or maybe I was just desperate to hear someone praise me after living life a bum for months on end.

“What's your name?"

“I am Wyeth of the Long Road, and yours?"

“Benjamin, but most people called me Benny."

He smiled and shook my hand. The feeling of his leathery pads on my skin was a peculiar one, not to mention that they completely dwarfed mine in size. He was a big man. He was very muscular, and he didn't seem to entertain the thought of wearing a shirt. His fur was a stormy grey with lighter patches on certain areas of his body like his arms and stomach. He had curious yellow eyes, and scars and cuts revealing bare skin under his fur.

“If you would like to hear more, I can take you to our elder. He would surely agree to meeting a man who could invoke a reaction from the stone."

“Becoming a hero can't be as easy as making a stone glow."

“It is not. But the defining factor of the man who will lead us to a new era is his heart, his mind. The body can be trained, but the will is something not so easily cultivated."

I sighed. Would it hurt to humour him just this once? “Fine. Let's go see your elder. Sounds more exciting than the other things I have on my mind today." His tail wagged as we stood up from the bench.

Wyeth led me out of the city. It was a long walk through winding country roads. We travelled for half an hour before reaching a dense forest. We peeled off from the road and headed through the trees. It was an arduous journey, but the tribe did not conceal themselves too deep. I knew that their presence in the town was accepted with little complaint, as it was common knowledge that they would move on eventually.

The village was a cosy little hamlet hidden deep in the woods. A clearing had been made on a flat piece of land, and several round huts had been built there. There was a small farm with various crops on one side. The place was vibrant and lively. Coloured banners connected the houses and gave it a welcoming atmosphere. Several wolf-men were gathered around a large fire in the middle. There were also a few women tending to the homes and making the place look tidy. There was enough housing for a few dozen of them.

“This is my village," Wyeth spoke with pride.

“It looks nice."

Wyeth led me to the largest hut at the back corner of the camp. “Excuse me elder," he called through the curtain, “I have someone who you would like to meet."

“Enter, Wyeth."

We ducked through the hanging cloth and entered the tent. I was expecting a spartan environment with few comforts, but it was surprisingly comfortable. There were rolls of fabric on the floor to cover the bare ground, pillows and seats, and even a large king-sized bed. In the middle of it all was an older wolf. His fur was shaggy and unkempt, and his eyes drooped down, betraying his age and experience. The stone on his chest glowed a light green. He clutched it between shaking fingers and smiled and crooked smile.

“I cannot believe my tired eyes, I never thought that I'd see you in my lifetime. What a privilege…"

I wasn't sure what I was expecting. Of course, everyone in the village would be in on this story. We sat across from the elder wolf with our legs crossed. Even as an old man, this wolf was much larger than me. He must have been quite the figure when he was younger. The tent was heavy with smoke and smell, there was a burner in the back corner. It made my eyes water.

“I could not believe my own eyes Elder. I asked him to visit here so he can better understand."

“Because I don't."

The Elder chuckled, “The world moves in mysterious ways. We are ignorant to them, but occasionally we peer through the veil and see how those tides churn. These stones hold much meaning to every one of our tribe, our people. You will find them from here to the other side of this great land."

“I still don't get it, what does it mean that I make them glow?"

The Elder closed his eyes, “At the founding of the first tribe, at the end of the Long Road – there was a great stone. It was shattered to pieces by the First Wolf and handed to his children. Over time, those pieces were passed down through the generations. We hold these stones to remind us of our heartbreak, our history, and our future."

Wyeth nodded, “The stones were discovered to be magic. It is said that the First Wolf promised his children that a great man from another realm would come and lead them to the promised land, delivering the world from a great evil in the process."

“And because these stones are glowing, that means that I'm that person?"

The Elder took a drag from his pipe, “Yes. That is what we believe."

I scratched the back of my head sheepishly, “How can I be a great hero, or whatever? I can barely look after myself. I don't have any money to my name, and I'm not a fighter either."

“That I do not know. Yet I have faith that your presence here brings glad tidings. Think not of the future, but rather of the now. We have no need or warriors here. These lands are peaceful and we are rarely faced with hostile souls. We do not need you to become anything. I only ask that you place the same faith in us that we do in you."

“I wouldn't want to impose."

“There is nothing to worry about, food and space is plentiful. If you wish, you may stay here with us. Surely it will calm your heart to have a place of your own."

Wyeth patted me on the back, “You can stay with me. My hut is only mine at the moment due to the space we have here."

I relented, what was the worst that could happen. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stay for a few days, just to see."

The Elder smiled again, “Thank you! You've made this old man's day."

Wyeth led me back out and towards another of the huts. Wyeth's place is tidy and well kept. There is one large bed against the back side of the circle. A few chairs, a table, and a small firepit in the middle. It's not the kind permanent lodging you'd find in one of the towns, but it was nice enough. He ducked under his bed and pulled out a beige sleeping bad, unrolling it next to his bed. “Here you go! Handmade by my Mother."

I walked over and felt the material. It was comfortable and well-made despite its basic appearance. I'd wager that it was nicer than any of the beds I'd slept in, in the taverns and hostels throughout the township. I got myself comfortable on one of the chairs and stretched out my tired body. “This is a nice home."

“Thank you. I like to keep things clean. Although my fur tends to get everywhere." Kind of like owning a dog, I thought to myself.

I looked over my new housemate again. The red dye stained into his otherwise grey fur were interesting. I didn't know how they did it, but they were intricate and well defined. There were various patterns and swirls on his chest, legs and arms. Some of them looked like characters from another language, others depictions of events and stories. “I've been wondering, what do those red marks mean in your hair?"

“Ah, these?" He held out his forearms. “It's a tradition for the adults of our tribe to wear these patterns. They designate our tribe and our family. They also depict the key moments of our lives. Our first kill while hunting, marriage, death in the community," he pointed to one of the marks on his right arm, it was a square with several smaller character contained within it. “This one represents the funeral of my mother. As tribute, everyone received this mark."

There were several other square marks in the same place, representing other people from the tribe who had passed away. “That's rather touching."

“It is. It helps keep us connected. Every tribe is like one big family."

“And how do you dye it into your hair?"

“Ah, it is a difficult skill to learn! Usually reserved for the eldest matriarch of the tribe. It is a combination of a common berry, some minerals and a secret ingredient."

“A secret ingredient, like herbs and spices."

“No," he chuckled, “It's an open secret. Magic. It gives the marks longevity. Although having them renewed every five years of so keeps them from fading. It's a long and arduous process. The matriarch must carefully dye the marks into our fur to the root. I myself do not know how she manages it. Do your people have nothing alike?"

“No. People back home like to tattoo marks into their skin as well, although a lot of them don't hold as much meaning as these."

“I have seen a few humans with these tattoos. It looks painful without fur…"

“It is. I'm kind of scared by the idea personally."

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of a howl from outside. Wyeth hopped up from his seat and clapped his hands together, “It is time to feast! I should warn you, our pack is a curious lot. And when the crystals start glowing…"

“I get it. They'll be surprised at how boring I am."

I followed him out into the central area. Two dozen wolf people, all distinct yet similar, had gathered around a black cauldron over the fire. Clay pots were being handed out. There was a jovial air to the proceedings. It sure beat eating gruel in the tavern bar, alone. Wyeth handed me one of the pots and dragged me over. I was dreading having to face the questions that would come. As soon as I sat down in the circle, every piece of stone around every neck and wrist lit up like a Christmas tree. The laughter stopped and all eyes landed on me.

“Everyone! Say hello to our guest!"

“I don't believe it!" cried one burly wolf. The exclamations of surprise from the rest of the village were much along the same lines. My space was invaded as several of the younger wolves approached and began to pod and poke at me. As the clamour reached a peak the Elder emerged from his tent and let out a gravely howl to demand their attention.

“Brother and sisters. We are blessed to be in the presence of a guide. A hero."

“Elder, is this true?"

“Yes. I have seen it with my own eyes. He is lost, but I have faith that he will be what we hope. He is staying with us, I hope you will treat him like part of our family."

The rest of the group nodded. Contrary to my expectation, there was no doubt seeded amongst the group. They greeted me happily. I ran the gambit of trying to learn all of their names and positions in the tribe, and enjoyed a warm meal from the communal pot. My initial reservations melted away, and I found myself laughing and telling some of my own stories to the tribe. It was nice to be in such good company again. I'd spent so long isolating myself that I'd forgotten how it felt.

After a few hours of getting to know all of the people in the camp, it was time for us to sleep. Wyeth was eager to show me how the other side lived, so to speak. The bed was every bit as comfortable as I expected it to be. Why was I paying out my ass for a room in a tavern when this hut was just as comfortable? Just as warm too, as it was rather cold. Having a thick coat of wolf fur might have helped keep the chill away.

I'd gotten used to early starts, it was where a lot of the work was – but even by my standards Wyeth was a little too eager to wake me up. The sun hadn't yet risen over the horizon when he was practically on top of me, shaking me awake and excitedly explaining that he wanted to show me how he hunted. Once I was awake, there was little chance of me falling asleep again. I gritted my teeth and decided to just take the hit.

Wyeth was waiting outside of the tent with a large curved bow, a leather harness full of arrows, and a confident smirk on his face, “Today, you will become a man!" He shoved the bow and arrows into my hands. They were deceptively heavy.

“I'm already a fucking man. I'm twenty-nine years old."

He patted me on the back, “Not to the Matriarch you aren't."

He led me deeper into the forest with a confident stride. The touch of civilization hadn't reached out here yet, so animal sightings were plentiful. They leapt through the underbrush and evaded our pursuit. Wyeth seemed to have something in mind for me. As we walked, he regaled me with the tale of his own first kill, as well as the information I needed to know to use the bow. Theory and practice were two different beasts. I wasn't going to learn how to hunt an animal by listening to him speak.

After an hour of little success in finding our quarry, Wyeth came to a sudden halt, “Give me a second. I will just be through there. Wait here for me." Wyeth hopped through the twisted branches and disappeared out of sight. I was left to my own devices. But there were only so many trees for me to stare at before I grew curious, what was he doing?

Taking care not to smack the bow against anything, I slipped through the hole in the canopy that Wyeth had hidden behind. I hooked a sharp right and came upon a small clearing. Wyeth had his back turned to me at first, but eventually he shuffled to the left and revealed why he'd taken off so suddenly.

Wyeth's bestial canine cock was exposed to the open air. Huge, red and angry. A thick knot rested at the base. He clenched the shaft with his hand and waited, and waited, before a stream of unusually yellow piss shot outwards and onto the dirt below. I was captivated beyond normal reasoning. I was never attracted to men, I didn't think I was anyway. If you'd asked me if I found Wyeth attractive I would have said no on instinct. But at that moment, seeing him naked and baring everything to me – something changed. This majestic, aggressive creature who'd looked out for me took on a new form.

Wyeth let out a breath that condensed into the air as the stream finally trickled to a stop. He recovered himself with his loincloth and turned back to find me. My eyes glanced down at the pool of steaming piss that he'd released onto the floor. I ducked back behind the tree with a blush on my cheeks. So that's what he was doing. I hustled my way back through the brush and back to where he left me before he started moving again. I didn't need to add that to the list of things I'd taken liberties with by moving in with him.

When he finally found me, I tried to play it cool by pretending to practice drawing the bow he had given me. Wiping the image of his member from my mind was not going to happen until I had a good night's sleep. “Let us continue," he smiled – I breathed a small sigh of relief that he hadn't seen me.

We continued our adventure. The tension in the air was finally released several minutes later when Wyeth pulled me down into a bush. “I can hear it, sounds like what we're looking for."

“What is it?"

“A Mossback. Take out your bow."

Wyeth guided me through the process with painstaking attention to detail. Nocking the ammunition, holding it so that I can achieve the most accuracy, and how to properly draw and release. I saw the creature with my own eyes for the first time through the thick coverage of the forest foliage. My arms shook as the tension of the drawn string finally started to kick in. I saw a flash of green moving through the trees ahead. I lined up my shot and tried with all my might not to let go before the time was right.

“Now!"

I let go. The arrow sailed through the air in a graceful arc, slipping through the distant branches and embedding itself in my target with a thud. There was a squeal of pain, follow by panicked footsteps. We hurried through the trees and fallen leaves until you came upon what I had struck. A large creature that reminded me of a deer. There were obvious differences between it and the kind of deer I was used to. Its pelt was a mossy green and it lacked horns, its jaw had a significant overbite that made it look more predatory.

“Well done!" The deer-like creature writhed in agony as it's life slowly slipped away. The arrow I had hired penetrated its heart and killed it in one blow. If it wasn't dead now, the blood loss would have done the deed after a few minutes. “You're a natural," he complimented me, “It takes a pup years to hunt their first animal."

“Did I do that?"

“Yes, you did! We will be eating well at camp tonight."

Wyeth used his incredible wolf-like strength to hoist the carcass up onto his shoulder. My face bloomed with a blush as he continuously gushed about how great our first hunt went. We arrived back in camp at a pace that surprised me, considering how long we were wandering the woods in search of the target. The entire camp emptied out into the square and howled in unison, including Wyeth. It was so loud that it made my ears ring. An old woman emerged from one of the tents to see what the commotion was about. I stood stone still as she hobbled her way through the gathered pack members and stared at me with squinted eyes.

“Wyeth, has this child passed his trial?"

Wyeth's ears perked up, “Yes. Elder. Benny has hunted his first animal. He has a hunter's eye."

“…Does he desire the mark?"

I glanced to Wyeth, who seemed eager to induct me into the tradition. I shook my head, “Sorry. I don't know… I don't know if I do." Wyeth's face was heart-breaking, but the Matriarch seemed to understand my hesitation.

“Very well. You may come to me at any time Child. We shall feast on the fruit of your labour tonight."

The pack howled again. I had half a mind to join in. The party that was thrown in the evening was even more lively than the last. The meat from my kill was passed around to everyone in the village. They piled on the compliments in the process. “A good kill, Bayleth cannot kill these beasts without tearing the best bits to shreds!"

We retired to Wyeth's tent for the night after filling our bellies. He had seemed downbeat ever since I refused the mark from the matriarch. I felt the need to explain myself to him, but I knew that it was harder than just coming out with it. Wyeth was the one to speak first.

“Why did you refuse?"

“I don't know."

“Do you not feel at home?"

“I can never feel at home here. Things are too different?"

I saw his yellow eyes through the darkness, “Why?"

“Nobody would believe me if I told them," I sighed, “But it makes me think that this prophecy of yours has a hint of truth to it."

They sparkled, “How so?"

“Just between you and me? I'm from another world."

His eyes widened, “Another world?"

I nodded, “Completely different. No magic, no wolf people. Nothing. I just woke up here a few months ago with nothing but the clothes on my back, which I sold to get a tavern room the first chance I got."

“Amazing. So this is the power of the stone?"

“I don't know."

I'd started thinking about my family again. The friends I'd left behind. Were they mourning me at that moment? Wondering where I'd gone? Holding out for that glimmer of hope that I was still out there somewhere. Wyeth picked up on the change of mood, his ears flattened and his chest rumbled.

“My apologies, I should have been more respectful."

“No, how do you even respond to that? I still can't believe it myself. I keep thinking that I'm going to go to sleep and discover this is all a dream."

“And that is why you refused?"

“Maybe. How can I feel safe settling down anywhere, how do I know that I'm not going to get transported somewhere else?"

His eyes closed. “Benny, you should not live in fear of what could be. You are subjecting yourself to misery for no good purpose. We all fear losing what we hold dear, what we have grown accustomed to. But that is merely the way of life. Things change, no matter how much we wish they didn't. So our only recourse is to do what we feel is right in the now."

He certainly gave me a lot to think about while I slept.

I spent the next week living at the camp and getting to know the various wolf-people who called it home. I learned basic survival skills, like hunting, cooking and herbalism – and even how to fight. My mind was opened to a new world of possibilities. There was so much that I didn't know, I was still stuck in the mind frame of my old world.

I was helping Wyeth butcher one of our latest kills. His body was bulky, but lean for a creature his height. I couldn't help but admire the way he looked as he strained and worked. At that moment something came to me. I stared him dead in the eye and said, “I want the mark." His tail began wagging like an excited dog. He gripped my shoulders and shook me so hard that my brain nearly hit the side of my skull.

“Really?!"

“Yes, really."

That was all I needed to say, Wyeth called over a clanmate to handle the carcass and dragged me into the Matriarch's tent. The old wolf didn't show much emotion as Wyeth excitedly explained that I had consented to becoming part of the family. She rubbed her tired eyes and silenced him with a single outstretched finger, “Calm yourself, Wyeth." His ears folded down. She turned to me and gave me a toothy smile, “So, have you found your resolve, young wolf?"

“Yes. You've all welcomed me with open arms, this past month has been the first time I've felt at home in a long time." The gem on her chest glowed brighter. “I'm ready." The Matriarch motioned for me to take a seat next to her. I sat down on the short stool. She bent over and pulled out a small bowl of red dye.

“I don't have fur," I noted, “Won't it be hard to use?"

“You won't be the first, and you won't be the last to join our people without a pelt of your own." She pulled out a small wooden needle and held it up to the light, “It may sting. But our family mark is important." She took my arm into her claws and inspected the area with a trained eye.

“I'll endure. Let's do it."

“Very well. A dedication to your tribe, and a celebration of your first hunt!"

The needle poked through the surface of my skin. I tensed up and tried to suppress the urge to yell or flinch. She worked quickly, piercing me dozens of time a minute. She carved an intricate patterns of shapes, squares and letters into a band around my forearm. I closed my eyes and kept my breathing steady. Eventually she moved onto another spot, and began working on my second tattoo.

Wyeth was there the whole time, watching with interest. I had a lot of time to think, if I ever went back home – I could just tell them that it didn't mean anything. But that thought left a lead weight in my gut. I found the idea of going home and leaving Wyeth behind repulsive, guilt inducing.

“It is done."

I opened my eyes and looked down at my numb arm. A bright red canvas of images had been embedded into my skin. It was incredible, not even a tattoo parlour could create an image with such sharp detail. Magic was involved – Wyeth had said it himself. I felt a swell of pride inside my chest. I had become a member of the family and earned their approval in the process.

“You should clean your face, you've been sweating the whole time," Wyeth suggested. I cradled my arm and stood from the stool with a smile.

“Thank you, Matriarch."

“It is my role. Wyeth, continue to teach this young wolf our ways."

“I will, Matriarch."

We stepped out of the tent. I walked over to one of the wood buckets that were kept around the camp and dipped my hands into the water. I washed the sweat and grime from my face, being careful not to dip my arms into it. I hung over it and allowed my wet hair to drip back down. My reflection stared back as the water settled.

Two yellow, wolf-like eyes stared back at me.