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 Adult Member
The name means "Wolf", but in his birth-pack Lore it also carries a second mystical meaning: "Who-Runs-With-His-Pack". It was well warranted, for his litter was born very early in the season and as a pup he was strong and unfearing, and did just that. He remembered his parents well. His mother had been the beta before the death of the alpha female; in the language of his pack her name had been "Seeress", for she was Lore Mistress and sometimes she knew things no wolf could know - that food would be found this day or the next, or that pain and illness would come. His father had been the alpha male, and had taken her as mate the previous year. As usual they were the pack's only breeding pair that season. He was a huge gray wolf, fully 34 inches at the shoulder, and was named "Rock" as much for this as for the massive granite monolith which he rested on so much that it seemed part of him, and he of it, inseparable from the pack spirit. He never boasted, but on winters nights when the caches were full and prey scarce, and the merciless arctic winds swept round the snuggled bodies lying in the snow, the pack elders told legends of his hunts. When Skiri-ki was about 4 months old, the night happened that was to change his life. His father, the Rock, fatally misread a moose, perhaps only for the second time since becoming adult. He had been caught mid-leap by a vicious flying rear hoof as he leaped to bring it down. With several cracked ribs and a torn shoulder, and Skiri-ki knew not what damage behind the open dirt of the gashed wound, he had limped the 20 miles home, and four days later the fever visited him, as his mate Seeress howled at the unknown evil she felt every time she nuzzled the slow-healing fur on his side. For several days the fever raged, and when a strange wolf came upon their clearing, he was still weak, unhealed, and had not truly had appetite or rested since that day. Within minutes of rising to drive the wolf away, battle had been joined. Seeing his limp as he attacked, the stranger had seized the bone of his foreleg in a sudden crushing grip, and when he tore free, it would no longer support him, but bent sickeningly underneath, while pain seized him in deep rolling waves. In the same day the stranger had tried to cement his victory by claiming Seeress as his mate, but seeing her standing over her fallen partner, jaws pulled back and ears flattened in impotent anger, and with a litter of young not his own, he had taken instead another female, and together they forced both her and her litter out. For about 2 months they travelled alone, the four of them, moving to the high altitude forests where a lone female with young cubs might be safer. Occasionally they would be noticed by strange males who followed, and his mother invariably chased them away, until it happened one day when Skiri-ki was some 6 months old that they were in a narrow valley.....Skiri and his adored sister together, and his mother and brother some 300 yards away on the other side. There was a deep rumbling, the ground shook as if from far away...and his mother looked round and ran to be with Skiri and his sister. But his brother held back. In her uncertainty his mother paused, and whined impatiently, then turned to nuzzle and move him on.....and just then in a blinding cloud, the summer avalanche swept thru the valley. When it was still, Skiri and his sister remained. The rest was...snow. For a full day and night, they trod the silent white tomb together, casting around and snuffling a full square mile, and on the second day they finally found a familiar scent. He dug and pawed and whined. But the face was cold and icy, and he knew all in that moment. Skiri-ki's sister was inconsolable, and refused to leave, though Skiri-ki knew prey here would be hard to find. But she refused to be moved, and in the end, driven by hunger, he did catch a good prey - an arctic hare. Filled with pride, he trotted back to where his sister was sitting vigil, but she refused, and her half remained uneaten. Initially he put this down to raw grief, unspoken, but as the days lengthened into weeks, it became clear that she ate little or nothing, save a few sips of melt-water to slake the thirst. Skiri-ki hunted more and more desperately, hoping against hope to find and bring her the one food that would please her - whatever it might be. But her half always remained untouched, and one day when he dropped next to her a decaying squirrel carcass, she looked with faraway eyes, and spoke softly. She was waiting, she said, for the Spirit to come for her, and bring her to her mother again. She had learned at her mothers' paws, the traditions that spoke of wolves who did this after a great loss. Now, she would truly be her mothers daughter and follow her. In her dreams, Seeress had called to her, calling her "little one", saying that never would she need to know fear again. A cold chill shook Skiri-ki, for his beloved sister was already emaciated and her eyes hollowed...they held no salvation at all, but only the haunted, haunting look of one awaiting her invitation to the Final Pack. That night, he howled to himself, for the dark days were coming and there was nothing to be done to prevent it. She had always been his strength...when finally a day came when Skiri-ki knew she would never again get up, something in him broke, his heart unable to contain such loss. He howled and howled in his grief, that somewhere, somehow, somewolf would know and share his pain....and just maybe, that some passing predator might hear and take him down at last. But none came, and at dawn he fell into a fitless sleep, the cold murdering snow his only companion, as he curled up to the stiffening body in the vain attempt to keep it warm with the semblance of life. He trotted from place to desolate place when he needed, never long in any, he drank when he needed, took worms, vermin, rotting shreds and the occasional young rabbit or fawn from time to time....a wolf living without knowing why, just believing in some puppyish way that if he could but survive, he would undo it all, and if he did his best (whatever that might be, he never gave thought), his family might some day straggle in from the cold, his father healed and his mother warm and his brother and sister calling him to play around their feet. Then the Terrible Days. By himself he wandered, shunning wolf-trails when he found them, gradually meandering without aim from the highlands to the valleys, seeking prey, a lone grey pup, gradually losing his upbringing and becoming scrawny and vicious. Once, another lone wolf challenged him for a find, and he wheeled on it in fury and anger, and left bloody tears in its muzzle long after it showed frantic submission. Another time he was chased away whining, with his tail curled under and ears flattened back, by a black wolf, its tail high, ears angled forward and muzzle wrinkled. He became ruthless, unfearing to challenge for his life-food if the odds seemed on his side, with bite and claw wounds in various stages of healing showing through his tangled fur. He howled for company when he passed packs...and yet chose his path to avoid them. And then, after some three months living this way, a big lone wolf, lying next to its prey...and this one did not attack, but watched him. He watched back, salivating at the potential feast and calculating his chances. Lack of aggression in the craggy stranger, combined with a ferocious starvation, made Skiri-ki bolt out of his hiding place, and as he ran, he turned, tore the smallest piece off, and bolted with the shred in his jaws. From the trees he watched, as the stranger watched him back, with curiosity but no aggression. He stayed in the forests until dusk, and by the end of the day, when the kill was gone and the wolf with the glowing eyes left, Skiri-ki tentatively followed his trail, holding back almost out of sight. Almost no greeting had been exchanged, but there seemed a tacit understanding that this would be...tolerated. It was the nearest to companionship he had known since the summer. At dawn the unknown stranger paused and curled up to rest under an overhang, and Skiri-ki did likewise amongst the trees. He followed the stranger for two more days, eating little, until they reached an apparent destination. He waited, unsure what he was doing or why he had even followed the stranger, just trusting that a wolf so at ease with prey would know how not to starve, and one who tolerated him might ensure he didn't starve either. He was greeted by two wolves he had never seen before, both sleek and well fed, tails held at a confident jaunty angle, and it was thus that he came to know NevaPaws (who first greeted him) and Twiando, and through them, the Sweet Mystics Pack. He met his rescuer muzzle to muzzle at last, whose name he finally found was Lukos. Within hours, he knew others. Later that night, anxious and uncertain, he sought solace in solitude, and the traditional Lore-Arts of his mother, and it was that night he visioned a song, to express all of the pain and suffering, the awful strength and power of being both Wolf and Alive, and above all his terrible, terrible sense of haunting aloneness that like a shadow never seemed to leave his side. And thus, finally, he found himself with friends who might shown in ways only Pack can, their love for him. He found himself surrounded by those who had brought him back from wolf-madness and shown him their accepting loving hearts. His only fear was that somehow, proved insufficient and a burden, he would be chased away, sent from this haven to roam the forests once more, and this thought terrified him more than a thousand coyotes, night after night. One night, not long after, he finally faced his new alpha, and softly smiled, and reached his decision. On that night, when his heart quieted, and his mind finally knew peace, and he formally threw in his lot with his new-found pack, Skiri-ki finally did howl....softly, but with infinite pain, a howl for his lost family, a howl that rang and rang on a chord that seemed to sound forever.......that reverberated and echoed and penetrated the far off mountains where once he had killed and would live no more.....an adolescent's venom-hate-filled victory-call to the elements he had defied, and to the stranger who had taken his birth-pack from him, that he was still alive...and that one day when he had come into his full strength, he would return, Skiri-ki of the claws, and take it all back by sheer force. In the immediate aftermath of that wordless dark song, Skiri-ki saw with his mothers' eyes, and knew everything. He would never return, but had found his new home. Others might play - it took him a long time to do so. For him, play felt like something a cub had done long ago. It had not saved his family. What was real was the prey, the icy snow, the shelter, and unknown wolf-strangers who might take it from him all over again. He was nine months old, and it was as if his heart had died, and that nothing would ever matter again so much as the simple drive to live, and to be strong, and survive with those he trusted, at any cost. Within weeks, the scars began to fade, though they never left him entirely, as he began to find that good friends can heal many ills. Within his adopted pack, Skiri-ki came to meet some of the best.....to find that all he had needed was their softness, their deep-felt acceptance of him as he was, scarred inside and pained......and gradually, as the bad memories began to recede, new ones formed.....
The Present
And yet, you know, they're always with me, they come up hatefully at the most unexpected of times. My mate-to-be had to forcibly tell me to watch the cubs and pups and remember how to play, for my own sanity's sake. And you know what? She was right. I've just started to remember. I hope I do it well ! Heh - silly pup, I haven't told you about her yet, have I? Or anything much, really :) I should say something! I'll keep it short though. My human gets easily tired! I guess my saving was the wolves I met here. Because you see, I almost immediately fell in with two of the best wolves in DAL forest - SilverWlf and Aquene_Wlf. We became inseparable, and friends like that suddenly remind you to trust and be open again. I had a semi-family, some almost-brother-and-sister once more. When we argued, which only happened once, it actually mattered, and I found myself not walking from it but determined as anywolf to see harmony restored. I found I was able to get good advice from the most wonderful alpha in the world, and to see my pain not scorned but accepted, to see not that my weaknesses were seen by a kind heart, but my strengths I didn't even know I had, were seen. That was……lets just say I would die a hundred times over for the least of this pack, and be glad for it. Because, I have to admit it - I was vicious at first. Dangerous too, maybe. I knew nothing else except the law of the snow-capped mountains: "be safe at whatever cost". I hunted fish at the start and Neva knowing I needed to do so, allowed and encouraged it. I only later learned she broken her own rule to do so, and (true wolf that she is!) never said a word. I growled and whirled on others who only had playful intention, and wasn't thrown out for it. There's only so much kindness and understanding a wolf can receive unbidden, before it changes their very bones and softens them within, isn't there? And then, I met Hunter. Above all others, my HunterPup. My love, my One. That changed everything else. Her poem's on the Pack Writings/Arts page, and I've never meant any words quite so much. Her bio is on the members page too - can you tell how much this black pup of the tan paws and unique spirit has come to mean to me? She's my Mate-in-Waiting, and I've never been so happy as to simply race down the hillock and across the clearing with her, stride for stride, standing drinking the cool water inches from her muzzle….. Her family's cool to - I love them. In fact I love the whole pack! It's not been easy, but what grace the wolves here have shown to me, a stranger rudely thrown among them, without even a basic sense of how to act except to show aggression and submission and fear. And nothing but the gentlest of manner shown to him in return. I love my friends Kovo and Moon^Shadow and Emmy and Sybie and Aquene and Silvie and Stari and Nakie and Pali and Nevie and Luki and Ahri and Twiando and Wolftail and Lupa and Wahotts and Autumn and Spirit and Indigo and Sati and BlackenedRain and Navdi and StarRider (more stories, Riderie!) and Polar and Wolf…..and any others I've left out ! And the pack is full of wolves who have shown not only tolerance, but acceptance, and not only acceptance but love! The real thing, tried and tested! Especially Paladinwlf. He's my brother, you know? Well, not my real bro, but my blood brother forever, which is just as close. It's funny because that makes me Sybie's brother in law and one day Aquene's uncle. Isn't that confusing! And Neva has trusted me with things once or twice and seems to think I can be worth something to the pack, too! Asking for Assessment-in-Waiting was an unexpected step. Neva has the most amazing way of helping uncover what a wolf truly wants, even when they don't know, and I cant help but be honest when she does. That's how I came to ask for Assessment - it just happened from one heartbeat to the next. I never would have dared, myself, I swear - it was enough just to feel myself to have a home! But once asked, that was easy. What was scary was my sudden promotion to Full Assessment a bare few days later. Full Assessment is supposed to take ages, for them to know you, and at first I thought something was wrong when Neva called me forward. I was scared and trembling, I expected to be formally thrown from the pack for some unknowable fault…perhaps just to be told "We're sorry, Skiri, we know you tried, but…you bring too much pain, too much rawness with you. For the good of the pack whose harmony you imperil, we must ask that you follow the Law you swore to uphold, and to leave us once again". I was so terrified that only duty kept me walking to her. That and the last desperate hope, that if I could walk as Wolf to my doom at least, somewolf might see it. And that knowing what it took, they might love me, for my strength if not for my easy-of-being. Or at least, if they couldn't do that, then they might have some act of mine to talk of with respect when I was dead to them, that I hadn't just been yet another aggressive waste-of-pup-space. It was only after she had spoken for some many minutes that I started to even hear the words. I couldn't bear to listen. I saw tails wagging - I assumed it was agreement with the sentence. And then I realised, I wasn't being asked to leave, but the opposite. Somehow, that they felt I had passed some test and they wanted to bring me closer. It took a long time to stop shaking. And when I shake, I still to this day need to be left alone, for fear that the tension will prove too much and I'll turn on those who love me just to be rid it. I haven't really yet stopped shaking inside, you know. I guess I've come to see that the Mountains did leave me with something, after all. I didn't hunt them only to have my life stripped from me mercilessly. I understand pain, and I understand duty and survival - I understand that sometimes one must deny oneself that and instead do that which one must do. Most of all, when I say that I love my pack and those in it beyond my own life, I truly mean it. My whole being was left raw and ruined out there. Sometimes it takes one who has been through that, to bring something with him that pack-born wolves can never truly know. Now I've got to go - its my 10th month birthday soon, judging by the moon, and I've got a meeting to go to! My friends SilverWlf and Aquene_Wlf are gonna be Assessments tonight and I want to hunt with them! Six bare weeks ago I was dying inside. Now - what can I say? I have a pack! A PACK! And what's amazing is…..my pack love and support me, too……..! Next time the Snows come, I won't be dying! I'll be - playing! I'll be seeing you!
Skiri-ki 10 November 2001 Webmaster:
NevaPaws
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