Exioptera

(CUSTOM DECORS HERE)

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Original pack purpose:

THE HUNT OF SIX WINGS

This den breeds for high stats, and selectively breeds for hunters. Any breeding involving my top hunters will match them to a stud with high stats in their particular role, resulting in specialised hunter pups.

The overarching goal of this den is to produce a team of hunters capable of taking large prey in the Glacier or Rainforest.

Wolf footnotes: 𝕂𝕜 and 𝕊𝕜 are shorthand for Kemasi-kan and Sinanil-kan, the two categories of gender recognised in this pack's lore. The former will usually use she/her pronouns in this language, and the latter they/them or they/he or they/he/she by preference. The pronoun particles in the native language for the two categories are 'si' and 'va' respectively. This is from my own conlang and writing; please do not use it without permission. 

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This pack's current focus: Breeding this project wolf, and obtaining it back as a chased wolf. Success???!!
another project perhaps

Read the lore behind Anhacari, Khatvana, and Koracari in this short piece, 'Heart-Caller':

Spoiler
"My love," says the Ancestor-Caller, lingering at the precipice as the wind speaks through her fur, as though she might hear the voice she has been searching for. But it has been so very long, and she is tired. "Are you there?"

The breeze is full of spirit, but not the one she seeks. She sighs, and her heart breaks a little more. She turns away and leaves the cliff behind.

-

A month later, high on a jagged peak across the lonely biting cold of the tundra: "You left us too soon," she mourns, quiet where the gusts are loud, tearing her words away into the Sky. "We still need your guidance. The clan needs you. I need you."

-

Many months after that: "I am sorry." Her voice is as lost to her as it is to the wind. "I'm sorry. It was my duty to guide you home, and I failed. You should never have been lost where your clan cannot hear you."

Her heart is overfull of aching, and she misses its mate more than any word or wind or breath could ever speak.

-

She is the Anhacari.

It's not a name. It has never been a name.

"Learn well, little ones," she says to the children, weary down to her very bones. "I will teach you to do as I do. I will teach you how to speak to the Sky, and the spirits lost within it. I will teach you how to call them home. And then, when you are grown, you may leave to speak to whichever winds call back to your heart, if that is what you wish."

And she does. And they do.

She teaches them the songs, teaches them the dances, teaches them the rituals that cast living breath into the holy breath of the Sky. Become greater. Become more than what you are. Speak to the ancestors, whose deaths joined them to that divinity long ago. There is so much wisdom to hear in the winds. But beyond that...

It is a duty.

"Is it true, vai Anhacari?" asks one of her students, head tilted and ears attentive. "What they say about you?"

She lowers her head to the youngster's ruddy fur, listening. "What is it that they say?"

"You lost the spirit of the Matriarch," says the pup, and the words knock her breath away. "Ke-Khatvana, Sacred-She, who carries the ancestors of many. They say she is lost. They say we have not heard her speak to us in a lifetime."

The Anhacari hangs her head in shame. "It is true," she says, and aches all over with the grief of it. "My great failure."

"How did it happen?" There is a steady strength in this pup's eyes as they ask. It isn't that they disrespect her grief; it's that they find their duty more important. Of all the pups she has trained, this one is the most devout. She is proud, though the pride itself hurts like ice in her lungs.

So she answers honestly. "I grieved too deeply when she died," she speaks quietly. "I could not bear the thought of hearing her voice on the winds, forever lost to me, forever a part of Ke-Iharat, instead of a breathing part of the clan. I was in too much pain to call her home. By the time I mastered myself, she was lost. Now we may never find her again."

They nod, thoughtful. "And that's why you're teaching us, isn't it."

The Anhacari goes still.

"When we go out into the world, to find clans of our own, to find the lost and wild spirits in the Sky, you are hoping that we will find her," says her student. "That one of us, one day, will be able to tell her where to go."

She tastes tears in her throat. She breathes pain out into the open air. "Yes," she agrees, and turns her face away. "I wish it with all of my heart." She uses the Brevi word for heart; the holy thing, kora. The heart of her, the soul of her, the truth and skin of her being. With all this, she wishes.

The pup is nearly a yearling, now. Soon it will be their turn to leave their clan grounds to make something of themself, to find the meaning in their own heart. They are serious and solemn as they listen, and gentle as they speak. "Of course I can promise nothing, vai Anhacari," they say. "The world is vast and so is the Sky. But I will run to the great heights and call her name, as you have taught me. Perhaps your heart will be waiting there."

She closes her eyes. "I hope so," she says, and nothing more. Her kora is weary, and she misses her beloved with all the weight of her terrible failure.

It would take a miracle, to call her heart's mate home again.


Blob Project: breed, from a stock of g2 mela carrier pairs each named Paintbrush Water and Liquid-Crystal Display respectively, a series of unrelated melanism wolves who will all be named Mr Blob the Encroaching, and thenceforth bred to one another. Any successful NIB mela offspring will also be named Mr Blob the Encroaching, and the cycle will continue.