In the morning, the group prepared to depart the cave and continue their journey home. It took a little while to convince the pup to leave its den. Still, with the proper combination of food, gentle encouragement, and its desire to remain by Sare'en's side, it was eventually coaxed out and began to follow its new family on its first real journey.

Jack and S'haar were still being pulled in their sleds, but with the other wolgen pup carcasses added to the baggage, the other less injured group members were forced to walk. Sare'en remained in the middle of the group, next to S'haar and Jack, with the pup following close behind.

Looking back at the only slightly horrifying new addition to their group, Jack turned to Sare'en. "Angela brought up an interesting question last night. What should we name him?"

The young woman looked at him in confusion. "Name him? I've never thought of naming the animals under my care before. As much as I enjoy their company, they often get butchered for meat. It would be harder to let them go if we named them."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that, though that wouldn't, and didn't, stop humans from naming their cattle. However, if everything works out the way we hope, this pup," –Jack nodded at the wolgen, who eyed him curiously before turning his attention to some other noise in the underbrush– "will be something more than livestock. Giving him a name will make him easier to train, and more importantly, it might make it easier for the others to accept him."

Sare'en nodded. "That makes sense. What kind of names would humans give their animals?"

Jack tilted his head to the side as he thought. "Well, I suppose he's closer to a dog than any other kind of animal, though admittedly that’s kind of a stretch. A few common names for dogs might describe their physical appearance, Spot or Fluffy. Other times, they might be given a more human name, like Max or Charlie. Still other times, we might call them something we think sounds tough, like Bear or Duke."

Angela dove into the conversation without hesitation. "Oh, what about," –the AI adopted a deep voice that sounded like it might belong in a sporting event– "Sir Fluffykins, The Destroyer of Slippers!"

Jack chuckled at the suggestion before looking back at the pup speculatively. "But those are all common names, something anyone's pet might go by. Hopefully, this guy will be the first tamed wolgen in history, so he might deserve a more epic name. Maybe something out of mythology, like Cerberus or Garmr..."

S'haar finally perked up. "The way you say that, it sounds like there's a story behind those names."

Jack turned back to her. "Well, yeah, that's kind of what mythology means. To oversimplify the term, a myth is a traditional story that is so widely known that it takes on a life of its own. They were often used to teach about natural phenomena, cultural ideals, or sometimes just to provide a sense of community. In the case of both Cerberus and Garmr, they were mythical dogs who were also guardians for different versions of the underworld."

S'haar looked confused. "What do you mean, underworld? Do all your people make their homes underground?"

Jack stopped and considered. "The underworld doesn't usually refer to any actual physical location. It's relatively common for humans to believe in life after death, a place where your soul will go to dwell for eternity after your body has rotted away. Usually, these 'underworlds' were divided between areas of reward and punishment, based on how well you lived your life."

S'haar was clearly confused. "So what, you just sit around for eternity after you die? And you mentioned punishment. Do you have to suffer for every mistake you made, or just certain ones, or do they get worse the more you get wrong?"

Jack kind of shrugged. "Well, I'm no theologian, but the most common result was a pass or fail, with your reward or punishment lasting forever."

S'haar looked at him in horror. "So you get to live for a hundred and fifty years, and based on how you live that brief period, you were either rewarded or punished forever?"

Jack tilted his head. "Well, more like fifty to sixty years for much of human history, but yeah, kind of?"

S'haar's eyes narrowed. "Ok, that's even worse."

Jack shrugged. "Well, while we're on that subject, what kind of afterlife do argu'n believe in?"

S'haar sat back and sighed. "I've never had a lot of time for the gods, and they've never spared much for me, but it seems to vary from one village to the next."

Em'brel's voice came in over the headset. Evidently, Angela had decided to include her in their ongoing discussions. "True, but there are a few consistencies here and there. For example, the gods always seem to appear in our dreams, especially when people are on the border between life and death. Kinda like someone we all know."

Jack shook his head. "Well, that's easy enough to explain. In high stress or traumatic situations, the brain releases all sorts of chemicals in an attempt to buy the body enough time to survive. But, unfortunately, those chemicals can do weird things to your perception of reality, especially if you're near the border of consciousness."

Em'brel relented. "Maybe so, but going back to your previous question, there are a lot of different thoughts about what follows this life, but usually, it's agreed that most of the suffering of this life will be left behind. No one has to earn a place there. It's simply waiting for you."

Angela spoke up again. "Huh, that almost seems like something that would encourage people not to fight as hard to survive. Things like that tend to fade from human societies simply by the process of elimination. On the other hand, the beliefs that push you to push yourself often stick around the longest due to survival of the fittest. I wonder if argu'n are inherently more resilient due to their higher position on their planet's food chain? Perhaps something about the thrill of the hunt forces them to push themselves competitively? It would make sense that such a predatory species might need a religion that encourages them to relax a little to form a coherent society."

Jack shook his head. "Well, that's a lot of speculation based on a minimal sample size, but we're deviating from the original topic."

He turned to Sare'en. "What do you think?" When she looked confused, he clarified. "About the names, that is."

Sare'en blinked a few times before speaking up. "Well, they certainly sound impressive, but also a little foreboding. Maybe a little too big. He's not going to guard all of the underworld. Just our little Outpost is all."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Angela popped in. "Kinda like a Church Grim?"

Sare'en looked confused, so Jack expounded. "There was a belief in certain parts of the world that whoever was first buried in a graveyard would have to protect the souls of those who rested there from the devil. Often times a dog was chosen, since they are both fierce and loyal. It was common for people to report sightings of large black dogs roaming cemeteries, protecting the land from the threats of this world and beyond."

Angela sounded a little wistful. "The original good boys and girls."

S'haar looked curious again. "The devil? What's that, some kind of monster that eats corpses where you come from?"

Jack tilted his head. "Well, I suppose you could call him a monster, though it's a bit more complicated than all that. He varies from one belief system to the next, but generally speaking, he's the epitome of misery loves company. His whole purpose was to tempt people into committing evil actions, then when they die, he rules the place they are sent to be punished."

S'haar was staring at Jack incredulously. "You humans are a little scary sometimes, you know that, right?"

Angela laughed. "Well, you might enjoy the Viking beliefs a bit better. If you died nobly in battle, you were sent to a massive feast with the gods in Valhalla, where all the greatest warriors in history went. They got to eat and drink until the end of the world."

S'haar indeed looked more interested. "What happened at the end of the world?"

Jack shrugged. "A massive battle in which all things come to an end. All the warriors of history would fight alongside the gods as heaven and earth were destroyed and devoured by massive monsters and their armies."

S'haar's expression shifted back to incredulous. "Your people are insane. I now see where you get it. How can such a small, frail species be so violent? And is that why you do so many crazy things? Are you trying to earn your place into this Valhalla?"

Angela was clearly laughing. "Napoleon syndrome, maybe? But seriously, humans historically needed a belief system that would encourage them to fight against the dangers of their world, both within and without. I'm not saying religions did that perfectly, and they were certainly abused by those in power to control the 'masses' on more than one occasion, but on the whole, many of them stuck around so long because they encouraged their followers to push forward and succeed in life. Often the message was to put the needs of the community ahead of one's own, which had some obvious evolutionary advantages."

Jack frowned a little. "And no, I'm not trying to get into Valhalla. On the contrary, I sincerely hope that if I have an afterlife, it's more restful than that. Though I wouldn't mind some friends and family being present... But again, we digress. As interesting as theology and mythology are, we're trying to name our new pup."

Jack turned to Sare'en, who had her head tilted to the side in thought. "This Grim..." The name sounded slightly slurred to Jack's ears, like a guttural 'greem,' but it wasn't any worse than when they tried to say half the human words he'd taught them. "You said he was fierce, loyal, and a protector?"

Jack nodded, and Sare'en turned to the wolgen. "How would you like to be called Grim?"

The wolgen looked up at her quizzically, focusing two of his eyes on her for a moment, probably wondering if the new word meant food, then looked away as his attention wandered again. S'haar spoke up. "Well, he didn't seem to mind the name anyway. Also, Grim is a lot easier to pronounce than whatever those other two names you mentioned were..."

Angela spoke up. "It's also much quicker to say, which could come in handy when giving commands or calling for help."

Em'brel joined back in. "I like the idea of a guardian spirit watching over us, anyway. I mean, I know he's not a spirit, but the idea feels comforting, you know?"

Sare'en nodded and reached down to scritch the wolgen on the head as she walked. "Grim it is. You take care of us, and we'll take care of you. How's that sound?"

The wolgen sniffed her hand briefly before accepting that no food seemed to be in his immediate future. So, instead, he leaned into the scritches a little as he walked, slightly losing his balance and stumbling before catching himself and pretending like nothing had happened.

Angela laughed. "He's like some cross between a dog and a cat! Although, I still think 'Sir Fluffykins' would be a better name!"

Jack shook his head. "Well, as...creative as that name is, I think we'll go with Sare'en's preference on this one. Grim it is. Besides, I don't like the idea of his name having to do with him destroying my slippers."

Angela sounded slightly put out. "I was hoping you would have forgotten about that part..."

-

Tel'ron looked at the pile of arrowheads he'd made to Jack's specifications with satisfaction. He'd seen the arrows Lon'thul's bow had fired, and these weren't anywhere near that level of quality, but they should do the job just fine. The only problem was they'd only work once. Then, after punching through a bone plate, they'd be so blunted the only recourse would be to melt them down and start again.

On the other hand, if that meant the person firing the bow lived and their opponent didn't, he supposed it was well worth the time investment. Even taking emotions out of the equation, it takes a lot longer to raise and train a fighter than it does to make a few arrows.

At least that was one project done and out of the way. He went over to the plans Em'brel had given him with a sigh. This was an entirely different beast and one he wasn't completely confident he could handle on his own.

The problem lay not just in the complexity of the design but also in its scope. The simple matter was that no argu'n he was aware of had ever worked with metal components this immense. Simply moving them around the workshop would be an issue, especially if they were hot enough to be malleable enough to work.

Sitting back a moment to think, Tel'ron remembered the well Em'brel had designed. The pullies and gears she'd used had significantly reduced the weight of the water and even let them lock things in place as needed. The way she'd explained it was the pullies used more extended movements to multiply the force an argu'n applied with their muscles. If he could design something like that here, he could lift and move much heavier loads than he was currently capable of.

Of course, if he installed them in the ceiling, he'd probably need to reinforce the roof to bear a more significant load. This was definitely something he needed to speak with Lady Angela about, and if he was correct, he'd need Lady Fea'en's help.

He cleaned up his work area, ensuring every tool was in its proper place before setting off looking for Em'brel. With the ship now off-limits, she was the best way to get an audience with the master artificer AI. Also, he got to see Em'brel, which was another bonus.

He'd been losing himself in his work lately, and that meant he didn't get to see her nearly as often as he once had. At first, he'd been a little envious of Lon'thul's growing relationship with Em'brel following the events at the end of the winter, but he couldn't fault the hunter either. It's not like Lon'thul wasn't as busy as Tel'ron, but it was readily apparent that Em'brel was more of a priority to Lon'thul than she was to himself.

Oddly, once Tel'ron realized that, it had come with a feeling of relief. He was so fascinated with the secrets of metalworking he'd been learning, it almost felt like the two passions had been warring with each other for his attention, but now that he was free to focus on his work, he was making leaps and bounds in skill and knowledge no other artificer had ever seen in a single lifetime.

He still enjoyed hanging out and speaking with Em'brel from time to time. After all, she was the only argu'n he knew who could follow along with the work he was doing now, and sometimes it was exciting to put his discoveries into words, but it was Angela he really looked forward to speaking with these days.

Finding the billet Em'brel, Fea'en, and his father had taken as their own, he knocked on the door. When no one answered, he pushed it open and looked inside. The sight that greeted the worker made him bare his teeth in rage. The room was a disaster. It looked as if there had been a life-or-death struggle here...