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No More Opals, pt 1

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Ferren had been misunderstood by many throughout his life. Raised among the wild Werulf tribes of the softly rolling hills of what the Cityfolk of the Metropolis called the Egnol Ellis Plains; to his tribe, they were known as the Green Valley Hills-- a section of the plains that rose upward several dozen feet, only to be cleft in two by a small river that cut it in half. His people had been strong, making useful weapons with the black stones they pulled from the earth-- stones Ferren would later learn had been volcanic, which also signaled the possibility of another resource desired by people that were not his.

Growing up as a wild Werulf, Ferren had expectations set upon him by his tribe, his family, and his parents. He was the eldest of five pups: his second and third siblings were female twins, and his youngest three were successive boys. He was the eldest by nearly two years, which was a rarity among the most successful families. Ferren's family was not one of the most successful and, in fact, were among the lowest in the tribal hierarchy. The young Werulf didn't mind however; unlike most of his people, Ferren had no desires beyond that which nature instilled in him... minus one.

When he came of age, Ferren was told he would find a mate and beget the future generation of his family. Ever the obedient son, he did as his father demanded, letting his parents choose the female with whom he would sire his pups. It was not that he did not enjoy the act, or that it was physically unpleasant, far from it... but he had no real desire for it, doing so only because it was demanded of him. So long as he had food, water, shelter, and his family, Ferren felt as though his life were complete; he didn't need a mate or offspring, but it was expected of him, and so it was done.

Although many Werulf chose to stay with their mates, Ferren's did not; once their little one was weaned the female returned to her family and left Ferren with his son. Ferren had no interest in being a father; rather then push it upon him, his parents accepted their grandchild and left their son to his own devices. He was neither a family embarrassment nor a great treasure; he was just Ferren, and for him that was enough. It was not always to be the way, however, and things changed the following spring. That spring was when the Cityfolk came, and when the status quo of his people would change forever.

Ferren had heard stories of Humans and, on rare occasions he had seen small groups of them traveling across the long land scar-- the gray rock road that connected the enormous stone citadel known to all of the people of the plains knew of as the Maan to whatever lay over the horizon. Rather than beings at a distance, however, the Humans who came to the Green Valley Hills were not passing through; they came to see the tribe. That was the very first time Ferren saw Him, and the Wolf's life was immediately different.

Lord Corwin Muscroft was at the lead of the Humans, greeting the Werulfs with absolutely no sign of fear-- a rarity, or so the tales said of the Cityfolk. The light skinned man, like all Humans had no fur; what parts of Him were not bare flesh was covered in black-as-night hair that gleamed with the same chromatic verve as a Raven's wing. When He spoke, His words emerged in a voice that made Ferren's fur stand on end, almost as if it were rising up to do the Human's bidding. Lord Muscroft's statement was clear and to the point. "I wish to speak with the leaders of your tribe."

The tribe had numerous stories of Humans-- mostly of the Ancients, and their great powers of Creation. Every night around the camp fires the tribes' storytellers would weave tales full of the first days and the powers that the old-beyond-old Humans would use to craft together the entirety of creation. Sometimes certain stories would be related much closer to contemporary times, usually with Humans as well-meaning but nowhere-near-noble, indicating just how far people could fall when they stopped honoring the past. The man Ferren faced that day, however, seemed far more the former than the latter-- Ferren had never met an Ancient, but he felt as though Lord Muscroft must have plucked out of time and placed down in the world just for that very moment.

Outsiders rarely if ever were taken to see the elders and yet, with little more than a request, no Werulf objected and so the Human was brought before them with nothing more than His assurance that He meant no harm. Ferren had only ever had a formal meeting with the Elders once, and that was when his father took him to announce that he would mate. It was a ritualistic meeting, but Lord Muscroft had no reason to do anything ceremonial. Ferren, needless to say, was not part of the meeting between Human and Werulf. Fully obsessed with Him, however, Ferren stayed as close as he could to the tent. The entire discussion was not a lengthy one.

Although Lord Muscroft went in to see the elders alone, His men waited in the center of the Werulf encampment. They focused mostly on themselves, only paying attention to any Werulf who drew 'too close' according to them, at which point one or more of the Humans would politely request for them to give them space. None of Lord Musroft's men had the kind of charisma as he, and so their requests were mostly ignored. Ferren could smell their fear and he was fairly sure the rest of the tribe could as well.

Werulfs didn't hunt Humans, and yet the men smelled as if they considered themselves prey. Ferren was not impressed... with THEM, at least, but his eyes and ears went immediately to the tent the moment their master emerged. Despite Lord Muscroft's neutral expression, something about the man left Ferren with the impression that He was displeased. Ferren immediately felt the displeasure in eerily strong empathy.

Voice wholly neutral, Lord Muscraft addressed His men. "We could not reach an agreement. Come... we will respect the request of the elders and be gone."

Ferren wasn't entirely sure how or why, but He could tell that others of his tribe seemed to be almost as drawn in by the strange Human as he. Without bothering to really look in the direction of his people, Ferren began moving, heading toward the path he knew Lord Muscroft and His mean would take in order to return to their strange citadel. The Werulf had lived his life desiring nothing, but the magnetic pull he felt from the Human was strong enough that he was well ahead of the rest of the Wolves who followed, and he was just in time for the Lord and His followers to encounter him.

Rather than seeming surprised by seeing the Werulf in their path, Lord Muscraft simply offered the smallest of smiles; Ferren rarely ever had a reason to wag his tail and, when he did, he had to think about it-- for some reason it began of its own volition, bleeding off some of the energy from his rapid heartbeat. The Werulf was glad for his tail for, he reasoned, were it not to have taken a portion of his heart's enthusiasm, surely he would have dropped dead. When nobody spoke up, ultimately, Ferren realized he had no choice but to be the one to establish contact. "H-hello."

All of the Human's men looked to their Lord as if requesting guidance, but, to Ferren's everlasting joy, the Human's otherworldy, lavender-colored eyes were focused on him alone. Lord Muscroft's smile widened ever-so-slightly, making Ferren shiver with the thought that he might have been responsible for it. When the leader of the Humans spoke, His voice was the most wonderful song he had ever heard, the most beautiful howl to a full moon, the softest whisper from a loved one Ferren had never known. Lord Muscroft's words were beauty. "You are here to see me?"

Ferren had heard stories once that Human's habit of asking questions made them sound weak. Any Werulf made it a point to speak in statements; if they were wrong then whomever they were speaking to would correct them and yet, from Lord Muscroft the question demanded an answer with the surety and insistence of a tribal elder. The Werulf spoke quickly to confirm what the Human said. "I am here to see you."

Lord Muscroft's smile quirked at the end of His lips just a little; Ferren couldn't tell why but, unlike the rest of his men, the leader looked almost predatory. It was enthralling. The man's next question was a single word, and the most commanding of anything he had yet spoken. "Why?"

It wasn't until that word emerged from the Human that Ferren realized he was not alone; many of his fellow tribesmen and women had also come and, in a disorganize chorus, they each began attesting to why they had followed Him, and all of them amounted to offering their services relating to why they thought He had come. In proper wild Werulf fashion statements were offered ranging from the Human looking for guides through the plains to the Man wanting to learn how to hunt without silly Human tools. Lord Muscroft continued to stand impassively, patiently letting the Wolves shout out what amounted to guesses. Ferren noticed, however, that the Lord's eyes never left him.

Only once all of his fellows began to fall silent did Ferren speak. His statement was far weaker than anything else that was spoken, and had nothing to do with why Lord Muscroft had come or, perhaps, was the whole entirety of it. "I... don't know."

Lord Muscroft's eyes finally released Ferren, simultaneously allowing Ferren to let out a deep breath as if a strong grip had finally ceased squeezing his chest but, at the same time, left him with the feeling that he was lesser for not being in His eyes. The beautiful words coming from the Human were not meant for Ferren, leaving the Werulf immediately regretting not being the Human's center of attention, until he heard the contents of his words. "Go home. I will call upon you if I have need for guides or hunters or weavers..." Lord Muscroft's beautiful eyes returned to Ferren. "Right now, I have need for someone who understands more than he yet knows."

Although some of the other Werulfs mumbled or grumbled to themselves, none dared disobey Lord Muscroft-- a strange happenstance if Ferren thought about it since none of his tribe owed allegiance to any Human, and yet nobody objected. Once Ferren remained the only Werulf present, the Lord gestured with His hand and all of his Human followers gave them space. Motioning to one of two small boulders, Lord Muscroft gave him a single word order. "Sit." and then took a seat on the other one Himself.

Ferren did as requested and, once again, silence prevailed. As the seconds past, the Werulf began to grow restless. Ultimately, his wild nature won out and he made the statement amounting to his guess of the situation. "The elders refused You."

Lord Muscroft was as impassive as a statue, eyes remaining on Ferren. At length, the man finally blinked before saying "They did."

The Werulf wasn't sure where the conversation could go from there. Why had they refused him? What had the Human asked that they would not approve? What would happen next? Ferren honestly didn't know... or care. The words came out immediately. "They should not have."

The Human's pure, pleased smile made Ferren's heart skip a beat. The Werulf who had wanted nothing in his life suddenly found himself desiring nothing more than to be the source of such an expression on the Human as often as he could. Lord Muscroft leaned forward slightly, His black-gloved hand reaching up. Ferren normally would have reacted by pulling back but, in that moment, he could only sit obediently as Lord Muscroft's digits came to rest atop his furred head and the Werulf felt pure bliss as the Human rubbed his fur. "Indeed. That was not the wisest answer to a reasonable request."

The next several seconds were a blur as Ferren felt bliss the likes of which he had never known. His senses returned to him only as Lord Muscroft's hand returned to sitting on His knee. The Human was not done speaking to him, making the Werulf's tail only continue to wag. "Tell me your name, my friend."

Ferren honestly didn't know whether he was more joyful that the Human wanted to know his name, or spoke to him as a Werulf, telling him what He wanted rather than asking for permission. Proudly, the Werulf announced "Ferren of the Green Valley Tribe; son of Calrom; father to Davnir, Elder."

There were few honorifics among the Werulf, but 'Elder' was universal, and Ferren felt as though Lord Muscroft MUST have deserved a title. The Human chuckled at the statement. "Then I am pleased to meet your acquaintance, Ferren of the Green Valley Tribe; son of Calrom; father to Davnir. I will call you Ferren."

An unbidden shiver ran through the Werulf when he heard his name spoke by the perfect voice. Happy enough to be referred to as 'you' or even 'werulf', Ferren nodded. "You will call me Ferren."

Reaching into the pouch at His belt, Lord Muscroft pulled out a small white stone, holding it out to the Werulf. As before, the Human continued his Werulf-like statement questions. "You have seen stones like this before."

Ferren turned the opal around in his paws, affirming the Human's statement. "They are known as opals."

Lord Muscroft did not counter the statement, continuing on. "Your people have settled this valley, and I would like to take opals from the ground. I asked permission from your elders and were told that they would not allow me."

An unbidden fury welled within Ferren's chest' the thought that the self-righteous, self-possessed Elders of his tribe would refuse Lord Muscroft anything was an affront. "They should have said yes."

Chuckling softly, the Human reached out again and patted him anew; Ferren wished he knew why, but hoped ardently that he could continue to find ways to get Lord Muscroft's approval. "Indeed... they should have. You are very right, Ferren."

The confirmation was very much Human, but Ferren found his tail wagging at the acknowledgement. The Werulf wanted to keep Lord Muscroft pleased. "I will help You."

The Human's hand stopped the petting and Lord Muscroft raised an eyebrow. "You cannot help me, Ferren."

Although Ferren loved the sound of his name coming from the Human's lips, he felt his heart squeezed by an ice cold fist. Pushing past the initial shock and hurt, Ferren stood up, speaking with even more conviction. "I will help You."

Tapping his chin in thought, Lord Muscroft's eyes slowly began focusing past Ferren, back towards the village. "I will need a lot of help, Ferren... and I may ask you to do some things you may not want to do."

Ferren felt his hackles rising up in surety. "I will help You. If You ask, I will want to do it."

The predatory air returned in an instant to the Human, somehow managing to intimidate Ferren in its intensity. "I haven't told you want I need."

Committed, Ferren didn't understand why, but he knew immediately that there was nothing he wouldn't do for Lord Muscroft. "I will help You... Master Muscroft."

Werulf knew the word 'master'. Stories told of Werulf serving Humans in the long-ago... back when the Ancients first created them, Werulf were supposedly the closest companions to Humans. The same was not true in the modern world, but, Ferren felt something he knew was far deeper then idle fancy; he wanted-- he NEEDED to be near Lord Corwin Muscroft. His declaration earned him another blessed head-pat. "Very well, Ferren... gather up the rest of your tribe who came to speak with Me and tell them that they may serve."

Speaking on behalf of the Elders was a rare honor; Lord Muscroft was no Elder but Ferren felt that He was something much, much more. "I will tell them what You tell me, Master."

Ferren finally understood the predatory glint. "Tell them I want them to kill the Elders. Not YOU, Ferren... tell THEM to do it, and you will report to Me when it is done."

Moving obediently to convey the orders, Ferren's tail wagged the entire time. The tribe was in chaos as some members were set upon others. Although Ferren didn't strike any blows against the Elders he was called to fight off others. In the end, Lord Muscroft got his way and, by the time the Humans had secured their claim on the opal digging site, Ferren convinced his Master to let His ardent follower accompany Him back to the Maas. His prior life left in the dust, Ferren could only look forward to his new one filled with meaning. That day was the first time an opal darkened for the Werwulf, and it was far from the last.