Chewy.

Chewy….and moist.

That’s my review. Take it or leave it – you’ll never hear another Corgi give a fairer appraisal of wolf intestine than that.

And when I look up at Witherfang, my nose slathered in blood and guts, I hear a little *ding!* echo in the back of my mind.

SKILL INCREASE

Consume LVL 1 -> 2

Reduced vomit chance on all consumption checks: 55%

Yay me. I’m now a slightly more disgusting specimen.

This skill’s also a funny one I see. Looks like it doesn’t just ‘level up’ after combat like my other ones. Guess it actually pays to eat, now.

That’s training I can get behind.

The old wolf smiles to see that I’ve even finished before Swiftrunner, who burps loudly and is met with cheers from all his Brothers and Sisters surrounding us.

“Stand forth, chosen,” Witherfang says. “Look upon the waters of blessed Lyca and see the memories of the ancestors.”

I cock my head at the Elder wolf as Swiftrunner steps forth.

“You gonna tell them that this ‘chosen one’ stuff is just kinda random or…”

He winks at me with his good eye. “Go with it, Lightborn. You will see that there is some magic to our rituals after all.”

I huff and point my nose at the shallow waters we’re treading on, waiting for my mystical experience to begin.

And you know what? Just as I’m about to lift my leg and add my special, Lightborn-enhanced piss to this puddle, I see some wolves running along its surface.

“W-wait a minute…”

Swiftrunner’s eyes are bulging with excitement, his tail wagging happily while mines is tucked between my legs. “The ancestors…those who first ran with the Greycloaks in the darkest days!”

He’s…not kidding. As I live and breathe, I can see them. I can see them sprinting alongside tribal humans with silver sickles and hatchets strapped to their waists, grey furs flying from their necks. They run together in dark, scorched fields, charging as one towards a demonic figure whose face now rises to dominate the waters.

“Behold the face of that brings doom upon the world,” I hear Witherfang say through the dream-vision of the rippling waters. “The root of all evil: the Darkseed.”

The face contorts into an image of a snarling, vaguely feminine face, framed by threads of corrupted leaves. Two razor-thin talons rise from below this beast to entrap the wolves and the humans entirely, and the last thing I hear before the vision ends is the thirsting laughter of the creature as darkness consumes her prey.

I jerk my head up out of the water. “That’s it, huh?” I ask. “The plant-girl – she’s the Darkseed.”

Witherfang inclines his head. “If the spirits of the ancients who have seen the beast’s previous incarnations show you this, then it must be so.”

“Super,” I say. “They’ve convinced me I don’t stand a chance. Not like I needed much convincing.”

“Worry not,” The Elder smiles. “For the ancients come bearing gifts.”

On pool’s surface, more ripples start forming, playing across the water like lithe dancers performing for a captive host. Judging by the ‘oohs’ and ‘aah’s’of Swiftrunner and the rest of the Clan all around me, that’s probably not far off.

Two items then float to the surface of the waters. One – a stout backpack just right for me. Two – a leather scabbard gilded with carved images of running wolves across its edges.

“You truly are the one,” Witherfang says with an air of finality. “The ancients have seen fit to grant you their blessings. Take these things from the hands of our departed, and may you find all that you seek, Lightborn Raziel.”

I suppose it would be rude not to accept offerings from the dead…after all, I did just eat a little piece of them. Plus, that scabbard looks really polished.

“I – uh – thanks,” I say.

When that doesn’t seem like it’s enough, I turn around to see all the waiting faces of the wolves in the great cavern – each one of them expecting some grand speech from their prophesized hero.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“I – look,” I begin. “I didn’t sign up for this job. I didn’t choose to be Lightborn, or Loafblade, or whatever. Honestly, a few hours ago I thought I was good for nothing but being eaten up and crapped out by goblins. But – well – I’m…more than that, now. You folk all believe that. And if you all say this world’s worth saving, well, who am I to argue?”

Amidst their murmurs and starry-eyed looks, I then feel Swiftrunner hoist me up by my neck, taking me in his teeth and showing me off like some prized statue.

“Hail the Lightborn!” he cries. “Raz! Raz! Raz!”

They take up the shout, and it slowly becomes a chant.

Raz!

Raz!

Raz!

A chant that echoes through these halls and will stay in the ears of their pups for eons to come.

I look to old smiling Witherfang with a face that tells him exactly how I feel about that.

“Let the Feast of Last Sky conclude, Brothers and Sisters!” he wails. “Let us eat our last meal in this Clanstead with the Lightborn by our side and let us offer prayers to Lyca for her guidance. At the first light of dawn, we march to the North!”

----------------------------------------

The rest of the feast was something I assumed would be a solemn affair, but everyone was in pretty good spirits.

The wolves dined out on what they termed their ‘last meal’ under the starry, stalactite filled sky of their cavern home, as apparently was tradition before an exodus to a new clanstead. I mingled a little with them, mainly thanking Witherfang for his hospitality and words of wisdom. I gotta admit, without him and the annoying peppy words of Swiftrunner, I’d probably have ran away and left them all to those monsters.

“But you made the right choice,” Witherfang tells me. “And for that, your name shall remain on the lips of the clan for generations.”

The old wolf sure does love talking in grand statements like that…

I decide to clear off after an hour or so of stuffing my face alongside them, getting a few teary goodbyes from wolves trying to offer me extra rations for the road. I tell them, ‘hey, you’ve already given me one of your own people, I’m not gonna take more’ but I’m almost certain that I saw old Witherfang stuff a few extra clumps of meat into my backpack before I donned it and headed out. The wolves say I can stay here one more night before they take off and, to be honest, I’m pretty beat from, y’know, being a hero and everything.

Swifty had left early, mumbling something about ‘business to attend to.’ I thought it might be prayers or some kinda mystical ‘last rights’ type deal – but as I started making my way back outside, a certain argument caught my ears beyond the cries of ‘good luck, Lightborn!’ behind me:

“- do not understand.”

“– for the sake of your own pride!”

Sounds like trouble coming from a nearby den. From the sounds of it, a quarrel between two wolves – one male, one female – with the male voice sounding very familiar.

Swiftrunner.

Now, I wouldn’t say I’m the nosiest dog on earth. But I do have…let’s call it cautious curiosity. I’m reminded of this when a new little skill pops up before my eyes as I wonder how I can get a more full picture of this conversation without intruding on these two directly:

[Core Skill]: Softpaws

LVL I

EFFECT: Your every movement becomes light as a bushel of feathers, allowing you to slip by foes undetected.

*Note: This skill can only be used outside of combat encounters and when bathed in shadow.

Duration: 40 secs.

Cooldown: 100 secs.

Look, I’m not saying I want some gossip, or a look into the life of my new companion, but what I am saying is I’ve got skills to train, don’t I? And I’ve just been presented with the perfect opportunity to train them.

Under the circumstances, it would be rude not to peep, right?

[Softpaws]

ACTIVATED

The pads of my paws instantly feel a million times lighter, and I tiptoe to the side of Swiftrunner’s den, keeping to the shadows of this cave, and putting my flappy ears against the wall.

“You knew this day would come,” Swiftrunner was guiltily saying. “I told you-“

“Witherfang told us,” his companion barks back. “And no one said it had to be you.”

My eyes widen at the voice – the cold-hearted Snappingjaw.

As she spoke though, it almost sounded like she was close to tears.

“You would forsake me – us – for your pride.”

“No!” Swiftrunner replies. “I – I must guide the Lightborn for the good of the Clan. This is the Path that I have chosen.”

“And what about me?” she snaps back at him.

“Witherfang shall see to it that you are cared for. I have also spoken to Lux and Argamon, who will take –“

“I don’t want them! I…I want you.”

There’s silence for a few moments, during which I realize something I should have done long ago – they’re a couple!

And, from the sounds of it, not just a couple of good friends, if you know what I’m saying.

“My Bonded,” Swiftrunner finally replies. “All I have ever wanted is to matter. Can you not understand? We wolves – we – our lives are too short. We must make our mark on this world before we are forgotten – before the humans trample us aside as they have so much of this world. This is what our Clan needs. I must do this.”

Our mark on this world…

“And what about what you want, Swiftrunner?” his mate snaps back at him. “Look me in my eyes and tell me your duty to the Clan – to that dog out there – outweighs the love you bear me.”

When he says nothing in return, I chose that moment to move on. Because I’ve heard enough. Screw training. This isn’t a conversation I should be involved in.

[Core Skill Increases]

[Softpaws] LVL 1 -> 2

Duration increased: 40 secs – 50 secs

Then again…

As I move to leave Snappingjaw bumps into me. Looks like she’s decided to take off, too.

“I – uh –“ I stammer, looking up at her tear-filled eyes. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.”

She does nothing but balk, giving me a look that says she’d rather kill me than converse with me right now.

“You two are perfect for each other,” she says, before sprinting away and leaving me in the dark.

I look into the room she’s left behind and see Swiftrunner curled up in his straw-bedding, facing away from the door.

“Hey, uh, Swift?” I say.

No response. I don’t even know why I’m trying. I’m not built for this kinda stuff.

“Um, well – just wanted to let you know that…uh…you can call me Little-Brother if you want.”

Really, Raz? That’s your best shot at comforting this noble beast?

Don’t quit your day job.

But, much to my surprise, the young white wolf turns ever so slightly in his sleep, and mumbles something almost inaudible as I leave him to his dreams:

“Thank you, Little-Brother.”