Azreal

The Beginning

The Clan's Legacy

"Ravens are the birds I'll miss most when I die. If only the darkness into which we must look were composed of the black light of their limber intelligence. If only we did not have to die at all. Instead, become ravens."
~ Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum

The cawing of a raven heralds the storm. The words come unbidden to Azreal's mind, but he knows what is to come. A great tempest is brewing and although the clouds have not yet darkened, he is sure it will be upon the pack soon. To the south he can see where the ravens are beginning to gather, their glossy wings wet with the rain that has yet to fall here, and an unspoken message passes between him and the black birds. He turns towards the pack. He feels their tangled emotions as easily as if they were his own. They are wary yes; for their senses throb with the impending change even if they know not what to name it. A bitter tendril of loneliness clutches the old wolf's heart, and he blinks his limpid pale eyes. He feels almost separate from the pack and he can tell that for many of them, the feeling is mutual. He senses their awe, reverence and even their suspicion of him. He knows that for some of the tribe members, that suspicion has even given way to fear of his strange ways and the conversations he has with wolves long since passed. Not many wolves converse with the dead.

Azreal shakes his head. His life has been long, and he has learned much, enough to know that his immense knowledge is its own curse. A piercing yip punctuates his reverie, and he is startled into reality. Two gamboling pups have wrestled their way to the entrance of his den, and he cocks his head at them. Sensing his gaze, they cease their play and look up at him, their tails wagging nervously. Their mother appears behind them, padding gracefully from the gathering fog. She dips her head to the side demurely, apologizing to the Seer for intruding on his peaceful morning. Azreal's face relaxes, and he can sense her relief.

"Come pups," she whispers, drawing them close to her body. Azreal watches them go for a moment before he is compelled to speak.

"A storm is brewing! Keep those pups inside the cave for a while," and the mother turns back. She studies him for a moment and Azreal can sense the subtle change in her emotions.

"Thank you, kind Seer," she says, and Azreal watches them until they are swallowed by the fog, a small grin playing on his lips.


Best Friend to Celestria
Affinity - Raven
Hunting Party - The Cosmos - A spiritual group of wolves that rely on the stars and nature to guide them to prey (Former Member)