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Day 63

Morning

_ _

It rained again last night...

Summer blossomed. With it the forest swelled with the scent of fruits and flowers, and as the daylight grew longer so too did the nights shorten, even as they continued to warm up; on a few occasions Lannon found himself lying there in bed with sweat beading through his fur, and not every time was this due to Sulla beside, behind, or often on top of him.

It was hard not to fall into routine as these days passed by. Wake up in the mornings as the sun seeped through the window over the bed, stretch out, bid each other a good morning, then head down to the river. There they would bathe each other and sing their little song together, Sulla's warm tenor matching and complementing Lannon's own, strengthening and becoming richer the more he sang. Then while drying off they made themselves breakfast, Lannon focusing on brewing their morning tea while Sulla prepared the meat and other things.

They began to show and share their individual knowledge of the forest, which plants were edible and useful, which herbs could be used for what purposes. This was how some of their days went by, each with a pack on his back gathering and picking flowers and leaves, always aware of the other's presence even when curtains of trees separated them.

And as time went on, this strange bond, this unique phenomenon, settled deeper into Lannon's head and his heart, to the point where its effects became as instinct to him. He could reach out and touch Sulla's mind with barely a thought, yet still kept a firm hold on his own thoughts and space; it became easy to focus and communicate with the wolf, condensing a conversation that would take minutes verbally into seconds through thought, as there was no need to distill the abstract images and impressions into actual words for the other to understand it.

Still he could see the twisting, shifting threads of magic inherent in everything. Still he felt the thick cords of Fire coming down from the sun and spreading around him, still he could sense the pulsing life of Spirit in the plants and animals around him. But just as he had learned to identify and pick out these individual threads from the space and matrix in between them, now he learned again how to ignore them, to relegate them to just another of his senses underneath all the others. Sulla taught him how to fish with his paws, and Lannon taught him how to use a rod - and then how to properly mend and weave his clothing, as Sulla had only had experience with hide fabrics and little rudimentary fixes.

Again Sulla tried to show Lannon how to shoot a bow, but they had to stop each time his shoulder tightened up and the muscles felt as though they were strung over a rack. So the big wolf brought him inside and laid him out over the bed, poking and prodding and feeling at the years-old pinpoint scar there, a little spot of silver-white skin along which no fur grew.

"One of us did this to you?" he asked, spreading a cool, somewhat chunky mixture of leaf, tea, and a certain ground stone over the surface.

"Yes," Lannon replied, then winced as the ointment jabbed tingly little fingers down into the deadened nerves. "A huntress."

"And her companion?"

"And her companion."

Sulla slid a big paw underneath Lannon's back to coax him to roll onto his side. He did so. "Do you remember what they looked like?"

"No. I mean, she was tall. Aren't you all?"

"Hah. Did she say anything?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I don't remember. She spoke the Old Tongue. Which," said with a glance over his shoulder, "I can neither speak nor understand."

Sulla paused in his rubbing the mixture onto his other side. "That's easy to forget, isn't it? I don't even think about it anymore. I could teach you, I suppose."

"I could teach you Common." Lannon turned his head the other way. Sulla smoothed down the fur around his scar. "Introduce you to my father..."

"Gods. I can't wait."

"Are you being facetious?"

Sulla grinned. "Now that's a word I don't know."

~ ~ ~

Day 68

Midday

_ _

Finally went and harvested the chamomile I noticed when I first arrived. Left enough for the cluster to regrow; I'd like to see if it remains a permanent resident of that little spot there...

Lannon did return again to visit his father some time later, though went on his own. As with every time the two sat over a pot of tea, his father watching as Lannon started the fire and set the pot to boil like everyone else did, without the assistance of the magic he had used for so long. They talked about the weather, and about the predictions for the rest of summer now that it had settled into full swing, and Lannon only got distracted a few times from some stray thought leaking over from Sulla miles away in the woods, or in a conversation with the wolf across that distance.

"You look so much healthier than last time I saw you," his father mentioned, "and so much... different. Yet you're still Lannon."

"I'm still Lannon," the younger lynx agreed, arms spread. "I'm still learning. Still doing all the things I love. Just... I have _him_now, too."

His father nodded, mouth hidden behind his cup of tea - but Lannon could see the edges of the smile. Upon his arrival, after his father peering rather closely at his eyes and then also noting the new piercing hanging from his other ear, Lannon sat down and told him what he - or, rather, what Sulla - remembered about his impromptu visit to the tribe. He had smiled, lost in those memories, and after a while disappeared to the other room to fetch the necklace that Lannon remembered. Little wildcat fangs and wolf claws interspersed with bits of amber and shiny river stones, the leather cord brittle and darkened with age but still holding.

Now it sat on the table between them, the amber glittering in the light of the sun as it passed by outside the window.

"Father," Lannon said in a lull in the conversation, "had things turned out differently, had you never met Mother..." He had to pause to giggle. Exasperated amusement flickered through the bond. "Would I be half wolf?"

He had hoped the joke wouldn't fall flat, and was glad to see it didn't. His father's ears shot straight up, piercings jingling, and he averted his gaze and took another slow sip of his drink. "How about," he said, "you tell me about your cuff piercing? As I recall, when you first returned you said you would, and here I am still waiting on that story..."

The younger lynx reached up to touch at the smooth length of metal. Memories flicked through his head, daydreams and experiences of hot sand-blown days and cool, still nights, and for once they were just that: just memories, just remembrances of times long past. He smiled softly.

"That's a story for another time yet," he explained, "since it's... still changing."

His father smiled as well, and also reached up to tap his own cuff piercing. "It does tend to do that," he sighed, "doesn't it?"

At the end of the day, after a quick visits around town to pick up some other supplies, Lannon returned home with a pack bearing another bunch of tea, some soap, a length of dense, heavy fabric, and a few other things, to find Sulla whittling away at a straight branch into what Lannon already knew was to be a spear.

"For fishing," he explained. "How was your visit with your father?"

Lannon leaned in for a kiss to the cheek and to nuzzle between the wolf's ears. "You already know. Why are you asking?"

"It's polite." Sulla tilted his head back and looked at him that way. "Isn't it?"

"I suppose it is. I brought soap."

"With the little bits in it?"

"Yeah." The lynx swung his bag around and dug around in it. "Extra bits."

"Oh, good. I love the way those feel..."

~ ~ ~

Day 74

Morning

_ _

Sulaya visited again in a dream. I wonder why she does this instead of coming by in person, although I suppose it saves time, and I imagine she does have a busy schedule. She told me something, but already I've forgotten - but I can tell that she paid Sulla a visit, too...

_ _

It was another day of hunting, Lannon creeping around and checking the snares the two had set out - one of Sulla's tricks, combined with prior knowledge the lynx had picked up from his father, unable to hunt with a bow - and the wolf keeping an eye and ear out for anything else that would fit rather nicely into their stew pot for the midday meal. So lost in his concentration and other thoughts was he that for a moment Lannon didn't notice Sulla poking and prodding at him through the link, until he paused, frowned, straightened up, and looked through the trees as though he would be able to see his partner across the distance.

Then, though, cutting through the treetops and over the wind: a sharp, sweet whistle, arcing up, then down, then chittering away. That was no bird he had ever heard before - but even as he thought about it, as he pieced through the sections of the odd melody, he could feel shock, recognition, and a bit of confusion echoing in Sulla's portion of the link. A moment later another, answering call picked up, quieter and more distant than the first, directly along where Lannon knew Sulla to be.

A pair of greetings, it seemed. Something in the forest between them changed; Sulla shifted his direction, and Lannon felt something in between them shift as well, though he couldn't quite place what. He, too, altered his direction to close in with the wolf, a pair of rabbits bound at his side from the snares he had checked.

Over the days since their return he had tweaked and modified his academy robes a bit, fitting the worn-down portions with sections of treated hide from their hunts, cutting out tattered sections and replacing them, and altogether turning the loose, flowing desert garb into something much more suiting the thick, dense environment of the forest. Already his modifications allowed for easier movement, granting him the ability to step over the low bushes, to reach up and swing from a low-hanging branch to cross a shallow dip, twisting back and forth between tight trunks and hanging vines. His shoulder had been hurting less, as well: the stinging and tightness was still there underneath, but regular application of Sulla's ointment at least helped with the up-front issues. Trudging through the underbrush still somewhat moist from morning dew, Lannon reached up and rubbed at that spot underneath his cloak, then ducked beneath another branch, pivoted himself against the trunk, lifted his head - and stared almost straight-on into the raised bow and arrow of a hunter, half-crouched in the small clearing just past the line of trees.

Right as instinct commanded him to reach first for the threads of magic he could no longer manipulate, and then for the knife hanging at his side, the arrow lowered and just past it - a familiar face. Not _terribly_familiar, as he thought he had seen him in a dream, or sometime long ago, but familiar nonetheless. The wolf, the young hunter with the amber-yellow eyes and the short, soft fur, tall sharp ears devoid of ornamentation or piercings. Similar recognition shimmered in those feral eyes for a moment, but then territorial instinct and distrust reclaimed its place.

"Peyaa," the hunter rumbled. Sulla sat behind him looking entirely unbothered, ears perked, whiskers forward, and one paw resting between the ears of a rather large feral companion. "Sala ea va lu'hula?"

_ _

Lannon could not understand the Old Tongue - not _much_of it, at least. Nothing past simple words and phrases taught to him by his father, which made quite a bit more sense now, or picked up in textbooks during his education. Sulla could, however, and that understanding still made its way across their bond.

Little cat, this young hunter had demanded - what was his name? Talu? Fora? Do you know the forms? Or at least, 'forms' was the closest interpretation in his own head for the idea in Sulla's, and -

And Sulla gestured wildly for his attention. Arms crossed over his chest, head back, muzzle pointed slightly up to the sky. Ears back, head tilted, slow nod down, and say...

"Lu'eo kur sharu va raz, il ulal lu'eo wa val va shua-hara raza." A mouthful of nonsense to him, improperly pronounced and enunciated, shaky and hesitant. Beneath the sky we walk, so that we will meet again in the heart of the forest. Something straight out of one of his textbooks, found engraved on some wall or something in an ancient ruin; senseless out of context, likely with some hidden meaning deep beneath the actual words.

The young hunter appraised him for a moment, bow lowered yet arrow still nocked - but then, suddenly, his muzzle split in a grin, and he laughed as he relaxed. It was a warm, rich sound; over near Sulla, his companion wagged his tail and shook his head.

"Wa," he said, motioning over to the other wolf. "Again! We haven't used that greeting in a generation and a half. I suppose you truly are the real thing."

Lannon frowned, paws raised in defense even though the hunter no longer aimed at him. He opened his mouth to protest; Sulla raised a paw to quiet him.

"Such a strange time..." The hunter slid the arrow, a steel-headed one, back into his quiver and trudged over to the other wolves. He knelt down before the feral and rubbed between his ears. "I knew I would see you again, little cat. You told me your name was Sulla. And then I find out that this one is Sulla," said with a nod towards him, "and _that_makes much more sense."

Even though Lannon heard the words - or rather, felt them - through Sulla's understanding, he still had to take a moment to parse and piece through the unfamiliar syllables and sounds. The hunter sat back on his haunches and then dropped down to his rump, and gingerly placed his bow onto the earth beside him. He now took his companion's muzzle in both paws, and briefly spent a moment digging his nose and muzzle forward against the feral's.

Lannon and Sulla shared a glance.

Then the hunter lifted his head again and looked over to the lynx. "He is Sulla," he repeated, "so then you are..."

"Lannon." The lynx wet his lips and scratched behind his mostly-naked ear. "Uh. I don't... speak your language."

Sulla translated for him in a low voice; the hunter's ear perked towards him, and a moment later he nodded. "Ah. You are Lannon, then. The one bearing the mark of our Lady." He reached up and tapped at his ear. "We've had this conversation, I believe. Strange times, strange folks; I am Talla, as I imagine you may not remember me. This is my companion, Fa. I caught wind of you two out here in the woods," said with a sideways glance of those uncanny yellow eyes towards Sulla, "and thought it might be nice to get together. I am travelling back to camp; would you like to join us?"

To camp. The thought hung in the air between them. Lannon carefully padded forward across the clearing, though it seemed that any enmity that might have been there between lynx and wolf was now gone; Fa watched him through sleepy eyes, muzzle now resting on his forepaws, with one hunter rubbing behind his ears and the other scratching above his tail.

Lannon opened his mouth to answer, then saw Sulla do the same and stopped. Sulla noticed Lannon about to speak, and as such also stopped. Talla looked back and forth between the two, his grin widening.

"Very well," he said, and lifted himself to his feet. "It is a few days' journey. You can make that decision while we're on the way, yes? I see you have already caught something, Lannon. I shall share all I have with you, if you would do the same."

Another rote response pinged through the bond. "I would be honored," the lynx fumbled, "as nature's bounty brings us together."

He expected another laugh and grin. Instead, though, Talla gave him a more genuine smile and tilted his head, one eye gently closed. "Indeed it does," he murmured. "Nature's bounty has brought something special. The chieftess hasn't seen her son in nearly three decades."

~ ~ ~

Talla proved, unsurprisingly, to be quite an amiable travelling companion. At first Lannon worried that his mouth was incapable of closing, hearing how much chatter he had to share with the other hunter at his side, but as the sun continued its trek across the sky the younger wolf soon quieted down and retreated into thought, Fa by his side. There were the other companions that Lannon had seen before, Stike and Drek and Tul and such, but still it surprised him to see a feral wolf of this size in the flesh: lying down he looked something like a bear, broad shoulders and thick haunches, and as he walked Talla's shoulder came roughly level with the top of his muzzle.

And just as Lannon and Sulla occasionally drifted off into their own private conversations, so too did these two: sometimes Talla stared straight forward, though it was easy to tell that his mind wandered elsewhere. Very rarely did he walk without one paw settled into Fa's fur, or his ears angled towards the feral's direction, or something else signifying that he was simply aware of his companion's presence.

"You don't seem too concerned," Lannon mentioned at one point, again with Sulla quietly translating. "Do you not need to defend yourselves out here?"

"Not particularly," Talla replied after a moment. "We are as much a part of nature as everything else around us. Everything works in accord with itself. Our greatest danger comes from the outside world, but your kind doesn't really venture this deep. Not anymore, at least."

"Not anymore?"

The young hunter looked up to the sky between the trees, by now starting to tint lavender-grey with approaching sunset. "For a time there were other hunters in our territory. Bounty hunters, fueled by the idea that we are... foul, and evil, and twisted. Remnants and survivors, practitioners of some kind of dark magic somehow threatening to your way of life and integrity. But-"

"But you don't recognize magic as we do," Lannon finished. "For your people, it's..."

"It's just another part of everything. It is life, and spirit, and passion, and... everything. So if this is dark magic we practice, then it is that same dark magic that provides the pulse of the land."

Then Sulla, from a short distance ahead of them: "And yet, evil persists."

Talla nodded again. "As it always has, and as it always will. Sulla?"

"Talla."

Nearby a bird called. All three wolves lifted their head to listen to it, the turn of melody a sharp contrast to the droning of cicadas and other insects all around. The younger wolf paused in thought for a moment.

"I am... deeply sorry, for what happened to you and your companion. I lost my father and my cousin to a bounty hunter, but you lost something much closer, much dearer. It happened so long ago, and yet I can tell the wound remains."

Sulla slowed in his pace and turned a sky-blue eye over his shoulder. "It is healing," he rumbled. "The breaking of our bond defied the natural way, and Lannon and myself had to take things into our own hands to repair that. It is blasphemy, perhaps, but..."

"But you two are now bonded, as I am to Fa. That is easy to tell." Yellow eyes flashed between the two of them again. "It is a wonder. A miracle, I would venture - and with her blessing, nonetheless. What should_happen, _will."

The older wolf heaved a sigh. "Much has changed since I... left."

"Your mother is chieftess now."

"I am aware. Does the tribe know I am - myself?"

"Some. Many don't believe it. Have you decided to return with us?"

"Yes," Lannon answered. Relief flooded the link. "We shall."

~ ~ ~

By nightfall, somehow the hunter-companion pair had caught three more rabbits, without Lannon ever noticing them doing so. A stew was prepared for the night, using the little pot that Lannon kept in his pack; he served Talla in the embossed earthenware cup, the young hunter quietly peering over and investigating the raised designs. It still gave Lannon chills to think of when Sulaya had done that.

The small group had covered quite a bit of ground during the passage of the day: the hunters set a broad pace, with Lannon struggling at some parts to keep up on his little lynx legs still largely unaccustomed to the terrain of the deeper forest. Over their dinner Sulla took up his place beside Lannon, with Talla on his other side. As an older wolf Sulla naturally looked larger and broader, while Talla had more of a lithe youth to him. He reminded Lannon of some of the wolves and foxes he knew back at the academy. There had been a brief little thing with another mage who specialized in Fire, a marble fox, but that one hadn't led anywhere, and...

He took another sip from his cup and then rested his head back against the tree behind him, looking up to the sprawling stars far overhead. Hard to tell, but some shimmered sharp white, some pale red, some yellow-orange and some faintly blue, flickering and twinkling or in a few specific cases, holding solid. The lynx remembered going out at night with his parents as a kitten to look at the stars, where the two of them would trace out constellations and weave together stories for him.

"There. That's your namesake, Lannon the warrior. See his belt, and his raised arm, and the shield strapped to his back? He always strove to do what he knew to be right, even if that idea clashed with those around him," his father had told him. And then his mother: "And the results of his actions provided proof enough. It took time for him to earn the trust of others, but once that trust was established, it could never be broken..."

_ _

"And so the moon chases the sun across the night sky, and the sun the moon over the day. At dusk and dawn, each hunter tires and slows, unaware that he, too, is hunted - and upon this realization, looking back over their shoulders and seeing their own fate half a day behind, they redouble their pace and, in the joy of the chase, again forget their own mortality."

_ _

He blinked. That wasn't one of the stories his parents had told him. Surprised, Lannon sat up a bit and looked over, but saw the two hunters still engrossed in their own conversation, rapid syllables of the Old Tongue firing off too quickly for him to effectively piece through, old memories and images from Sulla's slowly-hearing mind coming at a distance. Lannon frowned, looked forward across the fire, saw nothing there, turned to his other side, looked right over Fa where he slept a short distance away... and then noticed the glitter of amber eyeshine peering up at him.

One of the huge feral's ears twitched, and his broad tongue flicked out to lap over his chops. Lannon caught a brief glimpse of sharp yellow-white fangs.

"Spirit flows through the blood," that voice - Fa's voice - continued, scratching in his head just outside his bond. "And the blood pours from the heart. The heart is the fount of passion, and passion itself comes from belief. Belief grants power to those who bear it. What do you believe in, little cat?"

_ _

Again Lannon frowned. He glanced over at Sulla and Talla again; the two had paused in their conversation and now looked up at the stars as well. Before them the fire flickered and crackled, their shadows dancing in the light behind them.

"Were you listening to my thoughts?"

_ _

Fa chuffed quietly. "You believe you did the right thing, in bonding Sulla to you."

_ _

_"Of course I do. Was it not?"

_

"Does it matter? You believe it was. Just like your warrior namesake. And," with another lick of the chops, "Sulaya believes it, too. She believes you. That grants an immeasurable power, her belief in you, as well as his," this last sent with a glance to the older hunter.

Lannon looked down into his cup again. One of the starchy root vegetables Talla had found had floated up to the surface; the lynx didn't have a word for these, but he rather loved the texture, especially once they had a chance to soak in the broth. He skewered it on a claw, winced at the heat searing into his skin, instinctively tried to whisk the heat away through Fire magic, then popped it into his mouth instead.

"Sulla?" He still hadn't gotten used to how he could communicate clearly even with a full mouth, even though the two were completely disconnected here. "What's - special about him?"

_ _

"Everything. Just as everything about my Talla, and about you, and about Sulla's half-uncle Saro, and everyone else you know, is special. But you're not satisfied with that answer, are you?"

_ _

Suddenly he felt as though he were back at the academy again, sitting through some dense philosophical lecture when all he wanted to do was learn how to boil water with barely a thought, or squeeze the pure metal out of a chunk of raw ore.

"He claims the Old Blood," the feral went on. Lannon blinked; Fa must have witnessed his little memory here, as well. Was nothing private? "As does Talla."

_ _

"The Old Blood? I think Sulaya has mentioned it before. What do you mean?"

_ _

"Careful maintenance, observation, distillation. Reviving the seed, the lingering grain, of something long thought dead. Your magic, little cat, is a pale facsimile of what the Old Blood can afford its bearers."

It prickled his pride to hear, but Lannon felt that that certainly could be true. Most mages seemed to think of themselves as head-and-shoulders superior over their mundane peers - among which, the lynx realized, he himself now stood. Perhaps worse: he was an accident, a mage who had made a mistake, who should have known better. No longer a mage.

"What you view as magic, what you cut away and isolate from its matrix..." Fa closed his eyes and shifted his entire body in a slow sigh. "It is a part of nature. Just another piece of the whole, as are you, as am I. It is a gem cut away from the stone: small, precise, fragmented. Beautiful, and miraculous, but it came from so much more, and so much of it has gone to waste. The magic you practice is the little, faceted gem; the primordial magic granted by the Old Blood is the entire stone, and the world around it."

_ _

"And Talla has it? Is he related? I was led to believe it was only-" Lannon nodded over at Sulla beside him. As though feeling the motion, the wolf reached over and rested a large paw on the lynx's thigh. "Sulla's line."

"Talla does." Fa lifted his head again, yawned, and then stretched his forepaws out across the earth before him. Both hunters looked over at him before returning to their conversation, slower and quieter now than before. "Somewhat more potent than Sulla's."

_ _

"Is that better?"

_ _

"It is... different." Now Lannon had to lean back and crane his neck to watch the feral, Fa having risen to his full height. Only for a moment, though: then he stretched out again, forelegs first and hindlegs after, and gave voice to a wide yawn. This time the lynx got more than just a peek at those fangs. "Any strength of the power allows the bearer to open a deeper connection with their bond. This is what I have with Talla, what Sulla maintains with you, and what he held with Tul before you. It is what Noma has with Stike. Most hunters can only sense their companions, and can only share a vague impression of thought and feeling."

_ _

"That doesn't sound like much..." but Lannon recalled what he had shared with Sulla in the time immediately following the first ritual. Kept constantly, distantly aware of the wolf's position relative to him, with a faint idea of what he was thinking or feeling...

"But those with the Old Blood can awaken this bond further, allowing transmission of coherent thought, union of mind, complete overlap of emotion and ability." Still speaking to Lannon, the large feral padded between him and the fire to make his way over to his hunter. "It awakens in response to a shared intense emotional experience. Sulla had his when all but one of Tul's litter met death before they saw the world. Talla's and my own awakened when we watched his cousin and her companion, my littermate, killed at the hands of the bounty hunter."

_ _

"Noma and Stike?"

_ _

For a moment yellow eyes flashed his way again, before Talla's paws obscured Fa's muzzle when he brought him in for a nuzzled greeting. "That was a happy occurrence."

_ _

"If an awakened bond allows for communication like this..." Lannon said aloud. Sulla jumped, startled by his voice, while Talla's ears simply perked. "Then why is that I can communicate with you, when we are not bonded at all?"

"Who?" echoed through his link with Sulla, but then the hunter put it together. He looked back and forth between lynx and feral.

It was Talla instead of Fa who answered this time. Still ruffling his companion's ears, the young hunter leaned forward over his huge head, eyes and fangs catching the flickering light of the fire.

"You're something special, Lannon," he said. "Sulaya put her faith in you. Perhaps it is her mark and her blessing that allows it. Or, perhaps there's simply more to you."

"As far as I know," Sulla interjected, "never before has someone outside the tribe sealed a bond with one of us. In your time here in the forest you have achieved more miracles and undertaken more than we had thought to ever be possible, and you haven't even met our chieftess yet."

Lannon thought about that. Fa padded back over to him; he leaned back, hesitated, looked between those bright eyes, then nervously reached a paw up to pat at the feral's headfur. He lowered his muzzle down to allow him the opportunity.

"...Were things different," Sulla went on, "I might have inherited the position from her upon her death. But that hasn't happened yet, of course, and-"

"And now Sulaya will hold that honor," Talla explained.

"As she should. She is the culmination of all of our efforts since we first settled here in the forest, down from the mountains to the west."

Lannon looked up from where he had leaned in to nose at Fa's fur. "Mountains? West, where Alenar meets Loria?"

The hunters looked at him.

"Right. I suppose you wouldn't know our names for - countries, and borders, and..." The lynx trailed off. That would be something to mark down in his journal for later study - the tribe had come from the mountains there, which meant that there might be some evidence or settlement along those particular areas long before, and...

And Fa licked his chops again, washing the lynx in hot, humid dog breath. He grimaced and turned his head away, only to see Talla watching him from across Sulla's front.

"I understand you were speaking with my companion," the young hunter said, keeping his words low and slow so Lannon could understand through Sulla. "Did you learn anything new?"

"A... little bit," he admitted, doing the same with his own speech. "Every moment out here, I learn something new. The world is so much... _bigger_than I could've imagined, even back when I was in school learning how to use my magic." He flexed his fingers again, then felt Fa's warm, wet nose lift up underneath a palm, and moved to stroke his muzzle again. "I can't do that anymore, now. Magic."

The hunter's smile faltered. "I'm sorry." He tilted his head. "I imagine that must have been like-"

Losing a companion, he was going to say. "No," Lannon interrupted. "It was not. I've mostly gotten used to it. I thought it would have been a massive blow, but... I'm learning that there's still miracles that can be done without it. Things I don't understand, and that I doubt I ever will. I..." Something twinged in his mind and memory, then. Fingers settled into Fa's headfur, Lannon wet his lips and thought for a moment. "Talla?"

"Mm?"

"Fa told me you claim the Old Blood." That made Sulla's ears perk. He looked at the other hunter. "Does this mean you can..."

Sulla picked up and finished the thread for him: "...take on his form, as I could with Tul?"

Yellow eyes brightened further. "It is the only way we hunt, so long as nobody runs alongside us. In tune with the trees above and earth below, one with nature and the living world..."

The older wolf nodded and sighed. "I remember the feeling."

"Would you like to see?"