Zircon

Zircon is a black-and-grey pelted wolf with red stripes, sunken eyes, and racconish markings. He was named after his Zircon coat. He is the littermate of Apricot and Vision and a chaser in Rumbling Thunder. He embodies the spirit of Duty.

Front leg scar from fighting with a walrus (1/31)

(Became Icefall on 1/11/25)

He has a deep flank scar from his Night of First Hunt, where a bear ripped its claws through his flank. After the bear pushed him off a steep slope, a rock gashed his muzzle while falling, leaving a snout scar (10/16). He also has a hind leg scar, earned fighting a rival wolf pack over a bovine kill in the grasslands (10/24). The hind leg scar was extended after reopening during a hunt, where he tripped on a rock in the deciduous forest (11/29).

Note: Zircon was assigned male at birth and continues to identify as a man - i used a sex changer because I'm itching to breed him and an unbelievable stud popped up, lol. I miiiight adjust the story to make him transmasc or just ignore the sex change in canon, tbd. The lore coming from this next arc is currently more important

Biography
Spoiler
Zircon's puphood was spent in a nursery with his mother, Arya. Arya is an arrogant wolf who raises her litters to sell or chase. Considering herself more a hunter than a mother, she wants her pups to be dutiful, capable huntsmen.

Her son separated from his littermates early to take survival lessons from his former pack. He began training at 2 1/2 months. Life was tough for Zircon, who was young and missed his siblings. Arya said that it would be wise to forget the litter and trained him when he seemed lonely, trying to separate emotions from duty. He learned to steel his heart and sharpen his mind to withstand the workload.

In adolescence, the pack chased Zircon to their territory's fringes in hopes outside packs would take him in. Zircon now had to hunt for himself and defend against wild animals. The memories of his littermates were hazy and distant as he survived cold nights on an empty stomach. He rarely talked and struggled to relax or sleep, squandering any rare moments of downtime by pacing his makeshift den and forcing himself to hunt.

By chance, he encountered Mercy at 8 1/2 months old, who recognized the paw from his youth. He was taken to the Phoenix tribe and trained as a chaser under Ember and Twoface.

His guard was up around these strange wolves despite his dedication to the pack. He studied long hours and rarely spared time to socialize with other adolescents. He forced himself to eat his now regular meals, which made him sick and bloated. His skinny body grew thick with muscle once he acclimated, but his hollowed eyebags and insomnia remained.

He quickly learned that Vision and Apricot were his littermates. Namely, his brother Apricot approached within minutes of Zircon's arrival, shocked and delighted, trying to butt heads and lick his fur. Vision was overjoyed, almost in tears, bouncing behind Apricot and play-bowing. Zircon felt deeply uncomfortable by the affection. He scoffed and barked at the two to leave him be. He had never seen wolves act this way and found it shameful, as his mother had taught him.

The rest of Zircon's adolescence was spent giving his littermates the cold shoulder. Vision felt dejected and stopped reaching after a few days of failed attempts, while Apricot was more persistent trying to share meals, start small talk, and gift bones—all turned down, of course.

When neither were looking, Zircon's eyes would follow them to their shared nest. His chest felt tight, their soft eyes and swishing tails haunting sleepless nights.

His Night of First Hunt was quite hectic, with Lupo, Vision, Apricot, Fern, Willow, and himself coming of age. They hunted under a full moon while a deep fog rolled through the forest and dark clouds ahead threatened a storm.

Fern, Willow, and Zircon were grouped under Ember and Twoface. Their group chose to follow a rocky path away from the river, in case of flooding. Bears were known to make dens there, but their mentors were confident that wouldn't be an issue. Zircon was inexperienced working with the other paws and clashed with them, mixed between barking unfollowed orders to following suggestions the littermates did not commit to. The crappy weather made everyone frustrated and miserable. In the confusion, he began chasing a small doe while Twoface was still stalking it. He followed it tirelessly, his packmate's calls growing distant behind him. He chased it through the forest and even up the cliffs.

The rain had drowned out most of the forest's scents, leaving him and the deer blind to a threat on the clifftop. A mother bear with her cubs was spooked by the charging deer. Enraged, she swiping at its flank and gashed its pelt, toppling it down. Zircon skirted to a halt, fur prickling with unease. He saw the doe shakily standing to its feet, the bear staring him down and ushering her cubs behind her.

Zircon made a split second decision, body and mind buzzing with adrenaline. Take the kill for his pack or run like a coward? He had nothing unless he was loyal, even to the end. He pelted towards the doe to finish it. He spooked the mother bear. She charged and slammed her body into his smaller frame, sending him tumbling down the cliffside into a muddy ravine.

Zircon's body was on fire, screaming with pain. His left leg twisted during the fall, fur caked with dirt and soaked in blood from his gashes.

Icy air freezed his burning lungs. Thick mist obscured his vision. The forest was silent. This solitude reminded Zircon of his nights alone not that long ago, which made his blood run cold. The feeling was bitter but familiar, a life he knew well and resigned himself returning to. Zircon felt the creep of death grip his soul, knowing he wouldn't survive the night alone.

His consciousness faded in and out. At death's door, he noticed the unexpected warmth of another pelt and the scent of his family beside him. His barely-conscious mind was moved to tears as he, for the first time, felt embraced by another wolf's presence. He felt loved.

He awoke days later in the Bitter Den, Twig treating his flank wound. His ribs stung like hell and he didn't have the strength to move his body, which was laid on his left side. He got to know herbalist well during his time in the den, having little to do but watch him sort inventory and mix medicines. The two exchanged few words; Twig was silent while he concentrated on his work, with Zircon quietly observing him or getting lost in his own thoughts.