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The Chosen One?

copyright 2023 comidacomida

Keethe did not have an easy time growing up, the only cub of a single mother who lived on the outskirts of a Human village. In general, Beastkin were not well-regarded by the smooth skins, but his mother was familiar with herbs and served well enough as a healer since the Humans had none of their own. As such, he and his mother were permitted to live among them. He had been born in the spring, which was a good thing since he was nearly a year old by the time winter struck, and, along the northern lands, winter was fierce.

He weathered seventeen such turns of the great cycle under his mother's care and, although they didn't have much, she always made as much of it as she could, and she loved him dearly. His mother never spoke of his father, except to say that they had loved fiercely and strongly, but that the black-furred he-wolf had passed before Keethe had been born. Keethe's fur coloration he got from his father, that much was evident, but his blue eyes he got from his mother. He also inherited her gentle sensibilities, her work ethic, and her dedication to a peaceful life.

It was the summer, half way through his eighteenth year when he lost her; he had learned much of the way of herbs, but, when she was taken by a mysterious illness no manner of medicine seemed to help. She died, her paws in his, whispering for him to remember the stories she had told him since before he could remember: he was destined for great things. Keethe had long-since grown out of the silliness of cubhood stories about him being the great champion who would determine the fate of humanity-- not only was he Beastkin and not a Human, but he'd lived most of his life apart from them, and had little-to-nothing to do with the smooth skins.

Still, she made him promise that he'd remember, and so, on her deathbed, he acknowledged that he would not forget the stories. The following morning he buried her. People from the nearby village stopped by asking for her services and, seeing that he was in the process of digging a grave, they told him they would be back when he was done to have him see to their needs; not a one offered to help, nor did anyone shed a tear at her passing. They did return later, of course, explaining that they would not pay full price, reducing their coin because of the inconvenience of two trips, and because he lacked her experience.

Keethe managed to keep the house running for almost another year after that. Between the townsfolk refusing to pay him what they had paid his mother, and several refusing to give him any work at all, when the tax man came, the young Wolf lacked what was required. Rather than work with him to find a solution, the local lord told him that he would have to vacate before the end of spring; they would find another healer, a better healer... a HUMAN healer to move in, and so he would have to leave. Not putting up a fight, he did.

No stranger to hardship, Keethe managed fairly well on the road, keeping to himself and staying away from the areas known to be places bandits frequented; most Humans wouldn't bother a Beastkin, but Keethe didn't know how to fight so he didn't want to risk it. There were rare occasions when the Wolf managed to find housing for short periods of time, but those were few and far between. Most Beastkin didn't have a way to accommodate long term guests and Humans didn't want a Beastkin under their roof.

When Keethe did find accommodations they were never free, and he rarely had the coin to cover the costs. Most Humans were accustomed to using Beastkin as labor, but, despite the Wolf's natural physique, the work the majority of potential landlors required needed someone of much greater build like an ox or a Horse, so he was required to turn to less savory tasks. While it was ugly business and considered distasteful among his kind, it was a well known fact that Beastkin could mate with feral animals and produce more naturally intelligent four legged offspring and so, on more occasions than he'd wanted to admit, Keethe was forced to stud himself out to Humans who wanted hunting dogs or guard dogs.

It was a horrid time for him, as the Wolf had no great interest in coupling with a dog, let alone a four legged one. The only reason he was able to provide the service was because he was young and virile, and because, as a Wolf, he had a bone that allowed him to insert himself into a female-- an erection was not required. Still, it usually managed to get him a roof over his head for several nights at a time... even if only a place in a barn or carriage house. He wasn't picky at that point, especially when the cold weather came.

And so it went for the better part of a year, with Keethe coming to realize that, after a time, he would be as welcome as he was useful; his presence would be admitted so long as he was worth something to a potential lessor. He would be able to make use of shelter and they would make use of him and, when his use had run its course, he would be out on the road once more. It was no way to make a living or to get ahead, but it was an important way to stay alive. Keethe had resigned himself to that life, knowing that his happy days were behind him, and that survival was his goal; contentment never factored into the equation... at least, not until one fateful day deep in the woods.

Late summer, more than a year after he'd been forced out of his cubhood home, Keethe was cutting across the wilderness, heading from a small farming village in the valley toward a shepherding town up in the mountains. The Wolf had visited in the past, and had found enough work helping with herding livestock (and putting pups in two bitches) that he'd managed some stability for nearly a month. With that on his mind, the Wolf blazed a trail through the dense undergrowth of the forest that separated the two. It was late afternoon when he stumbled upon a small, quaint, well-kept cottage situated in a sunlit clearing.

The building was squat and old, but it had a welcoming feel to it, with a small herb garden by the cobblestone footpath leading up to its door, and a thin trail of smoke rose up in lazy lines from the chimney. What caught Keethe's attention first and foremost, however, were the two figures standing just inside the opened door: a broad-shouldered Wolverine talking with a cloaked figure just inside the threshold.

Remaining in the shadows of the trees, Keethe remained under cover, watching the interactions. The two shared what looked like a cordial discussion, bordering on warm, and the impression was further reinforced by the Wolverine giving the stooped figure an embrace. Despite the distance, the Wolf had good hearing, and was able to clearly make out the Wolverine saying "I woulda been lost without ya, Sir. I owe ya my life."

The cloaked figure raised a gloved hand and the Wolverine obediently stooped down to allow himself to be pat on the head. The mysterious figure spoke softly but, again, Keethe was focused with his ears perked in that direction, just able to make out the simple dismissal of the debt. "You were in need. I would never turn away someone in such condition."

Their discussion continued for several more minutes, allowing Keethe to understand that, apparently, the Wolverine had been wounded and had stumbled upon the cottage, close to death by the time he discovered it. The stooped figure was responsible for the Wolverine's survival, having nursed him back to health. Keethe had never heard of such a selfless act and he was honestly curious as to what the Wolverine had paid to receive such help. Sadly, the Wolf never learned the answer as the Beastman and his benefactor parted ways shortly thereafter.

The stooped, cloaked figure remained at the door, leaning against the wall, watching the Wolverine disappear into the woods. Finally, after several minutes, the cottage's owner straightened back up, lingered a moment longer, and then turned right toward where Keethe was hiding, voice picking up enough volume to reveal that the Wolf was being hailed. "Well? Are you going to hide in the bushes all night, or do you plan on coming out and introducing yourself, young man?"

It was the first time the cloaked figure spoke to him, but it was far from the last. Since that first, unconventional hello, the owner of the cottage, known only to Keethe as 'Sir' was nothing but courteous, respectful, and welcoming to him. Sir asked no questions about Keethe's situation that led him to being on the road; Sir didn't pry into the Wolf's life events or require any assurances of good behavior before welcoming him in. Most of all, Sir made no demands and made no steps to negotiate a price to Keathe's stay. In fact, as it got dark, Sir surprised him with a simple statement "Since my spare room is available, you should place your things there if you plan to stay the night."

It was a strange arrangement to say the least, as Keethe had never been welcomed anywhere unconditionally ever since he'd been chased out of the village where he was born. Everything about Sir was too good to be true, from his lack of distrust to his insistence that Keethe was welcome to stay without ever discussing payment. By the time the Wolf had been at the cottage for three days he was starting to fret that he was building up a tab on credit that he could never home to repay. That night at dinner, he approached the topic. "You still haven't told me what I must do to stay here."

Sir, who had remained in his hooded long cloak, only chuckled softly in return, pouring Keethe a cup of tea. "Do? Well, you must obviously continue to draw breath. Eating and drinking are both encouraged to remain at the highest point of health... why should anything more be required, young man?"

Keethe was used to being called 'Wolf', or 'you', and occasionally 'cur'; nobody ever called him 'young man'. It felt out of place, but also... good. That itching in the back of the Wolf's mind grew; that which was too good to be true was often that precisely. "You're doing all of this for me, and I haven't done anything for you."

Sir set the tea kettle back onto the table and reached for his own cup, bringing it up beneath the cowl to take a sip before setting it back down. "I enjoy your company, and I have a spare room. While I appreciate your concern, why should you have to do something for me, my boy? Is not my willingness to help a Wolf in need acceptable in and of itself? Is altruism not worth enough on its own?"

The Wolf had always found honesty to be the best policy. "I have not always been so welcome without being able to offer something in return."

His host nodded thoughtfully. "Your kind have not always been fairly treated, sadly... that is a failure of humanity though, not of your people, young man. It is not MY failure, either. I am happy to provide you a roof over your head, a place to rest your body and and mind, and food to fill your belly."

Keethe was truly grateful for it, but he also feared being cast aside if he remained so useless. "Then what can I do to repay you? I have not done a thing for you since I first arrived. I want to contribute, Sir. Please."

Sir sat quietly for several seconds, neither speaking nor moving, until, finally, the man let a gloved hand drop to the table. "If you wish to help I will not stop you, young man, but if you are expecting me to direct you then you will be waiting a long time. I trust your eyes are as true as your attentions-- if you truly mean to help then I will hope that you have your wits about you. Find what needs to be done, and do it."

The statement was definitely not what Keethe expected. "I... I have done many odd jobs for different people. I-- I do not have many skills... usually it... it involved..." His ears fell back in embarrassment; he didn't like talking about what some had made him do.

A gloved hand reached across the table and came to a rest on the back of his paw. "I will never make you do something that makes you uncomfortable, and I would not use you in such a way. Ever. Keethe... you are safe here."

It was the first time his benefactor had used his name, and it made the Wolf wag. He was immediately inspired. "Alright, Sir. Tomorrow, I am going to help you."

Sir sat back in his chair, chuckling pleasantly. "I believe you, my boy. I believe you."

Keethe was awake with the dawn the following morning, intent on following through with his promise. Having the most experience with herbs, the Wolf spent the first part of the day in the garden, weeding it, digging, and working with the plants. It felt good to finally be of use, and reintroducing himself with the earth gave him a sense of self worth. After that, he gathered some loose wood to reinforce the simple fence set up around the small herbs. There was still a lot of light to the day by the time that task was done, and Keethe spent the afternoon straightening up the clearing that surrounded the hut.

Over the course of the next few days it became a scheduled workday for him, Keethe did what he saw needed to be done, never receiving nor asking for direction from Sir, simply reveling in the feel of being his own master and deciding on how he wanted to help. The day turned into a week, which turned into a fortnight, then a month. Keethe finally began to let down his guard, letting himself almost believe that he'd found somewhere where he felt wanted and that he could finally call home. Unfortunately, that illusion didn't last long.

"You will have to move on soon."

The statement came one night over dinner. It was spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, completely out of the blue, and caught Keethe quite by surprise and resulted in an unbidden yelp, followed by a desperate question. "Did I do something wrong, Sir?"

Sir spoke calmly and softly. "No, of course not, young man. You have been wonderful in all ways and I have quite enjoyed having you stay here with me."

Keethe fought back a whimper, his ears falling as he realized his concerns had been valid; it HAD been too good to be true. "Is... there anything I can do to change your mind? If I haven't done enough, or if there's anything I--"

His host held up a gloved hand. "No, my boy... it is nothing like that. You will need to leave, because I will be leaving as well."

A thousand thoughts went through Keethe's mind all at once. If the man was leaving, perhaps the Wolf could stay and watch the cottage for him in his absence? If he were moving, perhaps Keethe might go with him? Would Keethe ever have hope for a life as good without Sir? What would become of him without Sir's benevolence. Despite all of the questions, Keethe knew that, no matter the answers to any of those questions, he must accept his host's decision. "I... I understand, Sir. When do you want me to go?"

Sir let out a long, soft breath. "I will depart in five day's time. Golvar, the Wolverine you saw when you first arrived will be here in three with the rest of his men."

"His... men, Sir?"

The cowled head nodded beneath the fabric. "Yes, my boy. He is the leader of a mercenary company and he pledged himself to me."

Food forgotten in front of him, Keethe finally set down his fork. "Why... would you need mercenaries, Sir?"

Sir set down his own fork. "I will be leading them in a great war, Keethe."

The Wolf almost fell out of his chair; nothing about Sir suggested that he was the kind of a man who would be involved in any kind of violence, let alone a war. Keethe tried to approach the topic with a light touch. "Isn't.... isn't war a pursuit of... um... the young... sir?"

The cloaked figure chuckled mirthfully. "How old do you think I am, young man?"

Keethe knew enough about Humans to have a rough idea. "I... I suppose I would guess... maybe sixty? You do not seem THAT old, but I know you are not young... uh... Sir, even without ever seeing your face I can tell. You speak like a man of many years, I suppose I mean to say. I mean no disrespect, of course."

Gloved hands rose up to take hold of either side of his cowl and, with one smooth motion, it was pulled back for the first time. Keethe gasped, the breath coming into his muzzle in surprise. The face beneath was not that of an old man... or even a Human. "No offense taken, young man."

Sir was, in all ways, beautiful. The man looked like he was scarcely two decades of age, and his features were fine but soft, as if sculpted by a master's hand to be a gorgeous female, but changed at the last minute into that of a man. Sir sat looking at the Wolf with a neutral expression, but the edges of the plump lips forming his petite mouth were upturned, as if almost suggesting the hint of a smile. The man's almond shaped eyes with eerie, lavendar irises gleamed with mirth. Sir's long, golden hair cascaded down either side of his face and off his shoulders like twin waterfalls and, despite being thick, the silken locks didn't manage to hide his long, pointed ears. Keethe gaped. "You're an elf!

His benefactor's smile widened more, then slowly softened before disappearing. "Just so, my boy... and perhaps now you may surmise why it is I need an army."

Keethe didn't know for sure, but he had a guess. Humanity had been unkind to Beastkfolk, but, despite the poor treatment the smooth skins had for the furred race, they hadn't gone as far as to hunt them to extinction like the'd done with the elves. Thinking for the first time back to the strange prophecy his mom spoke of on her death bed, Keethe also thought about what Sir had told him about finding things that needed to be done. He didn't hesitate. "May I come with, Sir?"

Sir raised a fine, picture-perfect eyebrow. "To fight Humans?"

Keethe promised to listen to his mother and take the prophecy into consideration. He wanted more than anything for it to be true. "To defeat them."