Your Mine! 6
#6 of Your mine!
And here is the biggest wolf of the pack, and how we learn his greatest strength is not his muscles.
The hardest job:
He worked quickly, another empty pouch dropped to the ground as the pawfull of dust was quickly sprinkled on his work. His chanting does not stop, even as the storm around him rages on. His chants begging the spirits for their guidance, forcing his big paws to work faster. He would willingly wish away his own life, a small price to pay in his mind for success. He laid the fur in place over the dust and quickly braided the edges together like a quilt, the patches of white and red slowly coming together. He continues chanting, He finally finished dusting and braiding, still chanting he began wrapping the dressings, while the storm named Dusk had subsided with a bloody howl...
Patch woke, the healer's eyes opened quickly as his vision cleared. Across the cavern he spotted his Alpha, Dusk sitting by the hot spring , looking at the water. An occasional sparkle caught his eye, as tears fell from the black muzzle. The Healer got a bowl of food and walked over to Dusk, who accepted gratefully yet set it aside. "You must eat" said Patch as he shouldered his pack and carried it deeper into the cavern. He knew the hurt his friend was suffering, the image of his dying best friend still tearing at his heart, his mind turned to memories of a better time...
The tightness of his newest braid distracted him, Patch was now an adult and his training as a healer had begun in earnest. "No son, twist the stones, you must grind it to powder softly or it will not be strong enough" The Healer's large paws took the stones and showed the younger wolf the proper way. Patch took the stones back and tried again, this time his Father nodded and rumbled " Good! Just like that, now the next one." He was almost as tall as his Father now, but didn't really have his muscle yet. He continued grinding as his Father explained the preparation, and of the uses of the powder...
The memory faded as he reached the back of the cavern, a ledge was cleared and he set out all of the pack's contents. Pouches, lots and lots of pouches, his grinding stones, some feathers, knives, string all kinds of things that he made himself. Then he found his favorite dagger, it's black obsidian edge sharp enough to cut a whisper. He gazed into its blade, his most prized possession, a gift from his best and oldest friend. Snow made it for him many years ago back when Dusty was born, the memory seemed so long ago...
Hiking thru the forest, Patch hunted for herbs, searching the forest floor with nothing but a breeze and silence to keep him company. He picked another sprig, and tucked in a pouch as the silence was broken by a howl. Patch turned and howled back, its echo bringing a running white wolf his way. "Patch!...Patch! Guess what! I got a little Brother!" cried Snow, Patch smiled as his friend quickly went on to describe a tiny tan pup named Dusty, with paws too big and the ears to match. He never seen his best friend so excited before. Patch replied "So when do we take him hunting?" Snow smiled, " I know, I can't wait for that too!, Oh! That reminds me! Here!" Patch took the small bundle from Snow, and his breath stopped as he seen the black blade within its folds. "Snow...Thank You!...This is great! This will be so much faster than my old flint blade..." Snow broke in" Come on!" as he rushed back to his den with the big wolf in tow "Come see Dusty!"
Patch returned the blade to its sheath, then started checking his pouches. Once he was sure they was all dry and still good, he returned them to the pack till he reached the last. It was the one pouch that a Healer never wanted to use. Its contents was a simple root, to eat it would take one's life quickly and painlessly. It was no longer there having been put to use, it was replaced with a single snow white braid. It was a solid black pouch, with black stones and one small red feather. It is passed down from father to son, each black bead marked the occasion of a new Healer. He remembered the love for his father when he passed it down to him...
An old wolf walked on the path listening to his son, his big black and white frame just a little bigger than his father. "Well Son, how am I to do the braid today?" asked the Healer. "It's a black stone, one braid, Green stone, one braid, blue stone, and white feather." Patch replied without hesitation. The old wolf smiled then asked "why?" Patch replied "He is the first son to the shaman, he passed his trials as an adult, and he has the gift of sight, thus the blue and feather" The wolf patted him on the shoulder "Excellent my son! Now remember when you finish, move to his right and face the pack, and try not to be more excited than Snow." Patch looked at him, "But, father I thought..." The old wolf held up his paw, the black bag had a new bead "No my Son, you just passed the final test as a Healer, he would want his best friend for this braid as I had done for his father before him." Patch hugged his Father," Thank you Father, I will always remember this!..."
Patch's wet eyes refocused as the memory faded as he closed the pouch, he stood, taking two other pouches and returned to the fire. None of the wolves noticed the Healers approach, their heads and ears dropped, with pain in their eyes. He filled another bowl with water and added a bit of powder, the swirling water turning red. He called his Alpha to the fire as the Healer sat next to the tiny human. Patch spoke to them all, "This pain is inside, I cannot take it away from you, but this sorrow must be released." He passed the bowl to the human and bade him just a sip, the rest had a drink and the bowl returned to him. He took a drink and then tossed some herbs on the fire, a sweet smell filled the cavern.
As the wolves gathered closer to the fire, the human didn't move, he started to fall asleep and soon passed out. The scent of the herb's took hold as Patch's chanting began to fill the cavern, a soothing sound that reminded the others of home. A sound that was like the safe rumblings from a wolf's chest as it soothes a pup. As he looked around, the others had tears falling freely from their muzzles. The small black pouch was passed around, Snows scent still strong within, was sniffed by them all. The pain of the loss of a mate, a brother, and friends came together as the chant took on a new melody. Each instrument in turn joined, the pain, sorrow, and loss was released with their howls till sleep took them all.