The Illendella - Part One

[Tamanous]

First Part of a short story I wrote last year, hope you like it.

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

The Illendella

A long time ago, in a land far away, a garden stood atop a lonely mountain. This garden was once one of many, but as civilization grew the gardens decayed, became forgotten and disappeared. One alone remained. In the garden was a special flower called the Illendella, a flower whose scent could cure any illness. However the path to the mountain was wrought with peril, and it was said that only the truly desperate would seek the flower atop the lonely mountain...

“You told me it was just a cough… and not to worry.” Sergei lowered his eyes for a moment then traced them back up the length of the man before him, along his polished leather shoes, his ironed black pants and his immaculate white coat. It was the autumn of 1854 and Sergei had exhausted all his options.

The doctor exhaled slowly, closed his eyes and composed himself. “I am sorry Sergei… but there is nothing I can do, the boy is in God’s hands now. Even modern medicine has no cure for your son; he has maybe… six months. It will be slow, at least you will have plenty of time to say goodbye.” Sergei looked down and ran a hand through his blonde hair, his eyes glistening with restrained emotion.

“He is just a boy Alexei… I’m supposed to protect him.” Sergei raised his blue eyes to the doctor’s but couldn’t hold the gaze, speaking as he looked away. “He is my son.”

Alexei nodded somberly in reply. “I know, old friend. You have done all you can, there is nothing more you can do.” With that Alexei closed the door, leaving Sergei standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. For a moment he just stood there frozen, then began to shake and sob, the tears of a defeated man falling onto the cobbled path and autumn leaves of the doctor’s house. After a few minutes he straightened his brown uniform and wiped the last of the tears away with his sleeve. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder he took a deep breath, turned and left.

As he walked the cobbled streets of St Petersburg back to his home he pulled a leather bound book from of his pack began to read. But today in the poetry of Aleksandr Pushkin he found no solace, not even as he held the golden cross around his neck. Sergei was an ordered man, a military man, but this turn of events over the last few months had cracked his composure; never had he felt so powerless. It was then at that moment that the sound of music caught his ear. He turned to see a small campfire, around which several flamboyantly dressed men and women danced, sang and played a variety of instruments. The normally curious Sergei could find no joy in the melody however and began to turn away. Though as he did a woman stopped dancing, lowered her hands and turned to him.

“Are you looking for something soldier?”

Sergei shook his head and sneered at the notion that a gypsy could offer him anything.

“Nothing a Romani can provide.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, regarding the man for a few seconds before her lips began to curl, the corners creating a smile. “You may be surprised.”

Sergei couldn’t fully comprehend why, maybe it was just the intensity of her stare, but for some reason Sergei felt compelled to accept her offer. He nodded.

The gypsy walked toward a nearby wagon, beckoning him follow. As he stepped inside the sound of people and music began to fade away, replaced in part by the scent and dim glow of many rose coloured candles. The woman motioned for him to sit and then began to speak.

“In a land not so far away, in a time not so long ago...”

The chuckles of Sergei caused her to stop. “Is this meant to be some kind of fairytale?”

The woman narrowed her eyes, staring down the soldier. “This is a tale indeed, but of fairies I will tell you not.” She paused for a moment as if checking his resolve, then asked in an almost condescending tone. “Shall I continue?”

Sergei stopped for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. Once again he felt compelled to listen. The gypsy smiled back at him warmly, then took a deep breath and continued.

“There were once places in this world where mystery and magic held. Once there was.... though as civilization has risen, these places have decayed, become forgotten, and disappeared.”

Sergei listened, hanging on her every word. Half his mind told him what he was hearing was preposterous, while the other half lay still, completely bewitched by the sound of her voice.
“There is a special place a few days from here. It was once one of many, but the rest have vanished… only this one remains.”

The woman stopped, turned and picked up a dusty book from a shelf next to her. She flicked through the pages for a few seconds before stopping, turning the book to face him and pointing to the picture within. “This thin stemmed flower with white petals is what you seek.” She exhaled slowly. “The gardeners may not part with the Illendella willingly, however...”

Sergei’s brows narrowed. “Gardeners?”

The gypsy smiled at him, a hint of malice appearing her lips. “Wolves, my good soldier.”

Had it not been for the complete conviction with which she spoke Sergei would have burst out laughing at the notion. As it was however he simply nodded. The gypsy continued.

“Take this book with you, it will show you where the flower lies. Remember though; it only blooms once, on the night of the first thaw… and with the first rays of dawn will it die. You must pick the flower before it begins to wilt, if you are to use its power.”

Sergei looked at her questioningly. “What power would that be?”

The woman simply smiled at him. “The power to heal, of course. Is that not why you are here?”

Sergei’s jaw dropped. Many questions raced through his mind, but he could not find that words to ask any of them. He just nodded again. As he touched the book it was if hope had returned, like a surge of warmth flowing through his veins. Humbled the soldier stood, bowed deeply and left.

**********

[Tamanous]

Part 2

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

Many miles away, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun, a pair of wolves knelt forward and exhaled. In front of them a small sprout shimmered and shook for a moment as the warm breath rushed over it. The pair stretched then and lay, scratching their itchy noses with their paws and basking in the sun’s warmth. After a few moments one of them stood and stretched again, the black streaks on his flanks seeming to flow as his body lengthened and contracted. He raised his yellow eyes to the sky, his voice echoing in her mind.

‘Zephyr, do you feel it?’

The female lounging nearby turned her brown eyes toward him. Her white coat, far lighter then his, shifted only slightly with the small movement. ‘Snow is coming.’

She stood and stretched a smile playing on her maw. ‘Do you want to run Windstep?’

His thoughts chuckled in her head. ‘Of course… Can you catch me Zephyr?’

They both leapt, one white and one grey form streaking out of the valley. Down the mountain stream they ran, bounding almost effortlessly from boulder to boulder, the fur on their legs clumping together and glistening from the river water. To the bottom they sped, across a grassy plain and through an oak and pine clad forest, scattering yellow leaves, grey hares, birds and deer as they raced, leaving a symphony of sound behind them. Still side by side they were, panting hard but neither willing to let the other overtake, like racehorses their heads seemed to reach for the lead every second. On and on they ran till at last they saw their destination, a small grassy hill containing a lone oak tree, mostly bare now with the lateness of autumn. They reached the tree line and in unison leapt, their minds laughing in concert as they landed. The pair crashed through a pile of star shaped leaves, creating a spray of yellow and magenta that floated back to the ground as if showing the coming snowflakes how to fall.

Panting for breath, Zephyr turned her snow coloured head to his. ‘I thought I had you this time!’

Windstep shook his body, dislodging the leaves that had stuck themselves into his black, brown and grey coat. ‘Maybe you did.’ Something in the distance caught his eye, the glint of metal.

Zephyr turned to follow his gaze. ‘More humans is it?’

Windstep growled low before checking himself. ‘The pack wants to leave… they do not like being so close to the humans. It makes them feel… uncomfortable.’

Zephyr seemed taken aback by the notion of leaving the garden behind; she padded her front paws on the ground in disgust. ‘Leave? Who would tend the garden? The plants would die without us and without them…’

‘…we would just be wolves.’

Windstep’s eyes narrowed as he followed the glint in the distance. ‘I’ll watch them… maybe they are not after the flower… ’

Zephyr nudged him with the side of her head, attempting to raise his spirits. ‘Don’t worry Windstep, wherever you go, I’ll be there.’

Windstep smiled, her words always were always the most welcome lyrics to his ears. From their vantage point they watched, their thoughts trailing away just as the first snowflakes began to fall; winter had arrived.

**********

On a rickety wagon a small blonde haired boy sat wrapped in blankets. He was thin and a pale, constantly sniffling and rubbing his nose with his sleeve.

“And it can make me better father?”

Sergei turned to his son, letting the leather reigns relax in his hand as he showed the gypsy’s book to his son.

“Of course it can Ivan… and it will, you’ll see. I’ll find it and you will be better again.” Ivan smiled at him, believing his father’s every word. The woman next to Sergei patted the boy on the head. She was dressed in thick winter leathers, but these did not detract from her beauty.

“You know your father loves you too much to let anything happen to you Ivan,” she said with a smile, “though I do wonder how your father released himself from the service of Nikolai the first so easily.”

Sergei chuckled and grinned at her. “I think the captain’s words were ‘Get out you scum! And don’t let me see your face here again!’” He said imitating the captain’s voice for his family’s amusement.

Nataliya suppressed a laugh and returned her green eyed gaze to the road. “I see, I see… How far to town?”

Sergei rubbed the leather reigns between his thumb and index finger as he thought for a moment. “No more than an hour, then perhaps another two to the cabin.” He paused, lost in thought as he turned his gaze turned to a distant hilltop.

Nataliya narrowed her eyes and twirled her chestnut coloured hair between her fingers. “What is it?”

Sergei caught his breath for a moment then shook his head, attempting to dismiss the notion, but unable to shake the feeling he was being watched. “Nothing… It’s nothing...”

Ivan turned his blanketed head to the sky and laughed, breaking the tension of the moment. “Snow! It’s snowing! Look!” He said as he pointed a small arm to the sky. For a moment he forgot about all his troubles, lost in a boys wonder at the world.

**********

Sergei leapt down from the driver’s platform of the wagon, his leather boots landing easily on the first inch of fresh snow. He offered his hand to his wife, who accepted and stepped down, then he turned to Ivan. “Here boy, let me carry you.”

Ivan looked down a little shamefacedly at the offer, obviously wishing his father did not have to carry him; Nataliya interjected to boost his spirits. “Come Ivan, it will be fun, won’t it dear?”

Sergei grinned and then let out a squawk, his arms flapping to imitate wings as he circled the wagon, then leapt in and scooped Ivan and his woolen blankets up in one movement. Ivan squawked back at his father and Sergei carried him inside. A few hours later the wagon lay empty, the morning sun replaced by the lengthening shadows of dusk. Sergei sat with his wife on the cabin porch, his flintlock rifle and beloved American made Colt Walker revolver on a table in front of him.

Nataliya ran her fingers through her hair, scratching her head for a moment. “Do you really believe it? The story.” Sergei seemed lost in his own thoughts and did not reply. “Sergei!”

He jumped, startled, and then turned to her. “Yes… I don’t know why… I just believe it. Though believing it makes me feel like a foolish child.”

Nataliya’s jaw tensed but she bit back her words, it was obvious enough she did not fully approve of the course they had taken. “I don’t think my mother will forgive me if I let her grandson die on her, out here in the wilderness.”

Sergei looked to her, for a moment his gaze bearing the same conviction that the Romani woman had shown him only a few days prior. “No one is going to die, I promise. Trust me Nataliya.”

Nataliya swallowed hard, her eyes a little moist. “I do, it’s just… not easy.”

He nodded in reply, polishing his revolver with a cotton rag. “It will be alright, you’ll see.” He clicked the pistol together, placing it in the leather holster at his side. “I’m going to have a look around.”

Nataliya nodded, a slight edge of concern showing in both her eyes and voice. “Don’t be long, it will be dark soon... Dinner will be waiting for you.”

Sergei smiled at her in thanks, put on his woolen coat and left. His boots crunching and he walked through the soft snow, the flat topped mountain before him in the distance, just like in the gypsy’s book.

**********

Windstep watched the man, watched his gait, his movements, and watched the path his eyes took as he scanned the forest. At his side the man carried a hare by its ears, which he had shot only a moment ago. Not wishing to be seen the wolf the crouched low and tensed his paws, digging them into the fresh snow to gain a feel for the earth beneath. He could smell the man now, a musky scent of sweat, leather, wool, horses, and gun smoke. Windstep shadowed the man as he continued deeper into the forest, always in the same direction, always…

‘…In the direction of the garden?’ His shook his maw, dismissing the thought. No humans had sought out the garden in a long time, not within his memories. As Windstep watched Sergei stopped walking for a moment, scanning the forest edge. The wolf stood still behind a small shrub, motionless, as the man examined his surroundings.

Did the human know he was being watched? The wolf’s thoughts continued to race as the man began to walk again, Windstep taking up position as his shadow. The forest was unusually quiet as the man walked, but the wolf’s tread was nothing more then a whisper.

Only a few minutes later the situation repeated itself; the man stopped and once again the wolf stood still in the darkness of the forest, only for the man to resume his walk after a tense moment. Windstep continued to follow in the eerie glom, till for a third time the man turned and their eyes locked. The wolf stood stunned, caught between the cover of two pines, then calmly turned towards the man.

“Wolf. Why do you follow me?”

Windstep narrowed his eyes, unable to understand the words but sensing the agitation in the man’s tone, still the wolf’s thoughts raced. His scent had changed, to one of fear and… excitement? Once again Windstep dug his paws into the snow, reassuring himself that his footing was sound.

Sergei dropped the hare, his hand reaching for the revolver at his hip. As he drew the pistol the wolf turned about in a blur of movement, spraying snow in the air, the black streaks on the side of his body making him seem like a grey cloud.

Sergei tensed and fired, but the wolf was already gone.

**********

As winter took hold the world changed, the days became shorter and its chilling wind bit hard, harder then it had in many years. Much of the larger game migrated south but the wolves could not follow, unable to abandon their charge. Almost every day Sergei left the cabin, and every time he left Windstep was his shadow. So it was that they became more like each other, as if the presence of one was affecting the other. Sergei even caught himself a few times, low growls in his throat whenever he caught a glimpse of Windstep. Sometimes he saw the creature, sometimes not, but always he felt its eyes… watching.

Zephyr worried for Windstep, as the winter days passed he seemed more and more obsessed with the man and less like one of the pack. Like ghosts, Sergei could feel the wolves around him; the closer he came to the mountain the more eyes he felt, gazing at him from the shadows. Even as the forest became seemingly more silent he felt it, a voiceless whisper in his mind. Like the air around him was shimmering with noise that was just beneath his hearing.

Returning home was no comfort for him either. Nataliya spent most of her time tending Ivan but every day the child seemed paler, his breathing more labored. The pack too struggled through the winter, surviving on the small game that remained in the forest. The temptation of the cabin and the human settlement was always present however and it seemed too often that the scent of roasted flesh drifted to them on the breeze. The wolves endured, but as winter drew on hunger bit at them almost as harshly as the frozen landscape.
**********

[Tamanous]

Part 3

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

The occasional flutter, cluck and increasingly pungent smell kept her enticed as she came closer, all thoughts of danger lost as she became consumed by her hunger. Zephyr reached the edge of the building and placed her nose on one of the small cracks between the pine planks. She breathed in deeply; taking in the smell as she began to dig, shoveling snow and then dirt away as she made her own entry to the building. The noise inside the building began to increase, the birds becoming anxious from the sounds of shifting earth. A commotion that became significantly louder when Zephyr put her head through the now rather large hole.

‘Too much noise!’ was the only thought that went through Zephyr’s mind as she entered. Immediately birds began to flutter about, clucking loudly as they sought the furthest place from the wolf’s maw. Quickly Zephyr struck, her hunger driving her as she caught one of the birds between her jaws, its blood on her tongue the sweetest spice. The sounds around her seemed to rise to a crescendo at that moment and a now startled Zephyr turned and crammed herself back through the hole as quickly as she was able, making it out the other side with her legs readied for a dash to freedom. It was then she noticed the eyes upon her, the orange glow of the lamplight and the gleam of a rifle barrel. It was at that instant that the warnings about humans played in her sensitive ears, louder then ever.

“Stay close to me Ivan!” Implored Nataliya, fear and adrenaline straining her voice as she pointed the rifle barrel at the white wolf. At her side, wrapped in his blanket as usual stood Ivan, carrying an oil lamp like a weapon against the inevitable twilight.

Zephyr froze, indecision rendering her immobile. In the flickering orange lamp light she lowered her head and dropped the bird like an offering, suddenly deciding that perhaps the meal was not worth the price. Nataliya’s breath came quickly; sweat dripping down her forehead, her finger trembling on the trigger. For a moment it was if a stalemate had been reached, then with whimper at the woman’s side it was decided. All she could see was the wolf’s jaws around Ivan’s throat.

Nataliya pulled the trigger.

No more then a few miles away the Sergei and Windstep turned, the gunshot like echoing like a hollow scream that assaulted their ears. Windstep’s head froze, facing the direction of the shot. Somehow he knew something was wrong and a single thought pulsed in his mind.

‘Zephyr!’ Windstep turned and sped, his paws skimming gracefully atop the soft snow while Sergei struggled after him, his boots sinking deep into the tundra. Windstep raced in the direction of the sound, reached the tree line and leapt. Then, in the orange glow of the lamp, under the starry sky and moon he saw her. Zephyr lay in a small crimson pool, blood oozing out the side of her chest and splattered across her body, the red a striking contrast to the whiteness of her coat.

At the appearance of Windstep the boy let out a cry, taking a few hesitant steps back. Nataliya shook, afraid, as the wolf’s furious yellow gaze fell upon her. Windstep could feel a pulsing in his chest - Adrenaline and rage. No thought in his mind except an overwhelming desire to see the woman dead. Nataliya’s sweaty palms fumbled with a bullet, attempting to reload the rifle, only for the round to slip between her fingers and fall at her feet.

In an instant Windstep was upon her.

Sergei ran, somehow afraid without knowing why. “Nataliya!” he screamed desperately as he burst through the brush, only to find a slaughter waiting for him. Like a demon the wolf stood next to the fallen form of Nataliya, half of his body illuminated in the flicking orange light, the other half bathed in shadow. His soldier’s instincts upon him, Sergei drew his colt at once, the image of the wolf in his sight and his finger moving to squeeze the trigger. It was then that Ivan’s legs gave out. He collapsed, dropping the lamp, which crashed onto the frozen ground and exploded in a flash of light that assaulted Sergei’s vision. He fired into the orange haze, but as his vision cleared he knew he had missed. Both of the wolves had disappeared.

He ran to Nataliya’s side cradling her head between in his hands and hopelessly trying to stop the flow of blood from her neck. “You’re not going to die, You’re not going to die… I…” Sergei lowered his head in shame and despair.

“You… told me… no one would die… liar…” She said with a faint smile as she coughed up blood. “Save… Save Ivan… For me…”

Sergei nodded, not knowing what else to do. Nataliya coughed again and began to speak but the words died on her lips as her eyes glazed over. Sergei just pulled her close and brought his lips to hers, a last kiss wet with blood and tears.

**********

Zephyr collapsed, unable to run any further.

‘Zephyr…’ Windstep moved towards her, licking her blood in a vain attempt to quench its flow. Her thoughts called out to him.

‘Don’t… it’s over.’

Windstep stopped and moved closer, laying down beside her and rubbing his head against her.

‘I’m sorry, Windstep…’ She took a single painful breath and her thoughts continued. ‘…to leave you alone… take care of my flower for me.’ Windstep looked on, all semblance of rage gone, only loss remaining. Her thoughts continued, softer now. ‘My breath… I leave it to you…’

Windstep shook his head in denial. ‘I can’t… I won’t! I know what that means… once you give your breath to another its final- you’ll be gone forever.’

Zephyr’s thoughts seemed to chuckle as her fading mind struggled to find the words. ‘… it’s not… your choice to make…’ she breathed in deeply and exhaled, her breath forming a pale blue mist that hung in the air around them both.

The mist swirled around Windstep and he paused, hesitant, then breathed it in, the longest breath of his life. As the mist entered his body the full force of the events hit him. He shuddered with emotion, raised his head to the sky and howled; a long mournful howl that echoed through the night.

**********

The days began to lengthen again. Winters touch lessened and Sergei knew the first thaw was approaching. In the warm glow of a fireplace he sat on a wooden stool, chin resting on his clasped hands. Sergei watched as Ivan closed his eyes, his breathing becoming slower as his exhausted body drifted to sleep. Even as he slept his breathing was strained and weak as the child struggled to breathe. Sergei had never seen his son so frail and he feared that the Ivan would not make it through the night.

After watching the child sleep for a minute Sergei reached for his woolen coat, hunting knife, rifle and finally his pistol. He paused for a moment holding the weapon, as if trying to derive some sense of certainty from the cold steel. If he wasn’t able find the Illendella and save his child tonight then it would all be for naught; Nataliya’s death would mean nothing more then his obsession with a Romani legend. He breathed deeply, took one last look at Ivan and left.

As he walked into the forest twilight the words of Aleksandr Pushkin came to him without thought.

I went through all my former wishes,
I stopped to love my former dreams;
In my poor soul stays affliction --
Result of empty-heart disease.

Under the fate's fiendish tempests,
My wreath of flowers had waned --
I live alone with my sadness,
And wait: when will come my end?

Like, when a snowstorm is whistling,
Alone, on the bare twigs,
The latest leaf is sadly twisting
Under the cold's deadly stings.

In the bitter cold Sergei walked, till at last he arrived at the base of the mountain. A small snowy field lay stretched out before him and at the end of that field was Windstep, the wolf that Sergei’s bullets seemed too slow to catch. Again Sergei felt the air around him simmer with noise just below his hearing. Then he heard it; a sudden thunder hammering his mind.

‘You took everything away!’

Sergei’s eyes widened and the wolf leapt forward. Instinctively Sergei dropped to one knee and drew his rifle, the wolf’s head sighted barely a hundred feet away. He fired and the wolf ducked low, the shot grazing of his shoulder. Windstep jumped, his jaws primed for the man’s throat. Sergei raised arm at the last moment, the wolf’s fangs biting deep, tearing through wool and cotton and into the flesh below. They collapsed onto each other, Windstep’s jaws snapping shut on the rifle, both of them struggling for control. Finally their momentum flung them apart and they landed barely ten feet distant, leaving streaks of blood of the snow.

Slowly they stood, their eyes locked on each other. Sergei moved first, throwing his spent rifle at the wolf, Windstep dodged the clumsy movement and began to approach as another bullet grazed the top of his head. Sergei grinned for a moment in satisfaction, his revolver smoking, but his satisfaction was short lived as Windstep leapt, his jaws slicing down the side of Sergei’s face. Again they stopped, waiting for the other to move. Then the white petals of the Illendella flashed in Sergei’s mind and he turned and ran. Up the mountain they fought, along the very same stream that Zephyr and Windstep had bounded across only a few months before.

As a pair they reached the top. Lines of red streaking across their abused bodies that screamed at them in protest. Sergei replaced the empty pistol in its leather holster and drew the knife at his hip. Windstep seized the moment and charged, Sergei mimicked only a step behind and with a growl upon both their lips they struck, Windstep’s fangs sinking themselves into Sergei’s chest and Sergei’s knife plunging into the wolf’s side.

Together they fell, landing side by side, crying out as the pain of their wounds took hold. For a few seemingly peaceful moments they just lay, neither possessing the energy to move. It was then, as the last of the days light faded away it happened. The thin snow around them seemed to shake and move, as one by one the Illendella pushed their way through the snow. Their crowns opening to the starlight as the land around them became a sea of white petals.

Sergei lay on his back panting, attempting to gain some control back over his body. With a grunt he spun around and forced himself to his hands and knees, his and Windstep’s blood a stain on the sea of white. Sergei reached for the closest flower, his hand trembling in disbelief as he grasped it. At his feet Windstep growled low and struggled to his feet only to collapse, too weak to do anything but watch. Sergei pulled the Illendella to his chest, its scent drifting to him on the wind. Slowly, he felt his wounds begin to close; the gypsy had not lied to him. Adrenaline shot through his veins and he pulled himself to his feet, scattering white petals in his wake as he stumbled down the mountain.

“Wait for me son… Papa is coming.”

**********

Windstep watched the man leave, lacking the strength to fight any longer. His vision blurred, and his heavy eyes slowly began to close.

‘Windstep…’ The whisper resonated in his mind and his eyes shot open. Zephyr stood before him, her unblemished white coat fading into the sea of flowers.

‘Zephyr…’ Windstep’s thoughts seemed weak and he wondered if she was even real. Then, the white wolf took a step forward and lowered her head, her jaw seeming to form into a smile.

‘Can you catch me Windstep?’

In his mind Windstep grinned and rose to his feet. He walked over to her, taking in her smell, the memory of her scent stronger then ever. For a moment they just looked at each other, smiles playing on their maws. Then they turned to the moon before them and leapt, one white and one grey form streaking out of the valley.

Down the mountain stream they ran, starlight at their backs as they bounded from boulder to boulder. To the bottom they sped, across a snowy plain and oak and pine clad forest, the sound of the contest like a lost melody. Once again they were side by side, racing through the night. On and on they sped till at last they saw their destination, a line of trees illuminated by the moonlight. They reached the tree line and as one leapt, their minds laughing with exhilaration as they landed on the other side. Windstep got to his feet first, panting and turned to Zephyr.

‘You did it, you beat me Zephyr! You-’ His thoughts stopped abruptly; she was gone, only the door of the cabin waited for him.

**********

Sergei cradled the boy’s head in his hands, white petals lying scattered around him. He was too late. The moment he had set eyes upon the cabin he knew death was just beyond its door. Still he had denied it, somehow hoping that the flower could bring his son back. But it could not. The Illendella could only heal the sick, not raise the dead. Tears flowed down his cheeks in a torrent and he began to sob, as helpless as a child. He had lost not only his wife, but now his son as well. He was a fool, a useless fool. He cried out, a scream of defeat, despair and loneliness.

Slowly, delicately, he lowered Ivan’s head to his pillow and reached for the revolver at his hip, flipping it open and placing a single bullet inside. He snapped it shut and spun the chamber, the metal seeming to grind in protest. His face wet with tears he brought the gun to his temple, a sweaty finger clasped around the cool trigger.

Click.

The chamber spun a faction, but nothing happened. Shivering he steeled himself, his hand shaking fiercely.

Click.

Again he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Finally he steadied his arm, his finger on the trigger for a third time. Sergei tensed and began to squeeze, when, with a gush of wind the door flung open to reveal Windstep, the red glow of the fireplace reflecting in his yellow eyes.

Without thought Sergei turned the weapon on the wolf, his arm steady. His face contorted in rage for a moment then he stopped, letting his arm fall to his side, lacking the resolve to fight any longer. As if on queue the wolf stepped forward, his nails clicking on the wooden floor and he made his way across to the child. Windstep paused; a last moment of doubt, then opened his mouth. A blue mist began to weave its way through the wolf’s teeth, hovering around the boy. Then the mist shimmered, glowing bright white for instant and fell, settling on the child like stardust. His job done Windstep turned and left just as Sergei’s eyes began to widen in disbelief as the boy stirred.

Ivan seemed to spasm for an instant and then as if he was breathing in very breath of the world his lungs opened, he arched his back and breathed deep, the blue stardust around him spinning as it entered his mouth. Ivan paused for a moment, then exhaled, his chest deflating slowly. A second later, hesitantly, his eyes opened and he turned his head to Sergei and smiled.

“I was dreaming papa. I was playing with a white wolf. And mama was watching me… I wasn’t scared at all.” Sergei closed his eyes and wept, tears rolling down his face as he pulled the boy close.

**********

At the top of the mountain Windstep climbed down one last time, a white flower held delicately in his jaws. As he reached the bottom he turned towards the east, watching as the sun began to rise. In the east where the pack lay, waiting for him. He lowered his head for a moment, unsure if he had the will to follow and then heard a voice, a final whisper.

‘Don’t worry Windstep, wherever you go, I’ll be there.’

Windstep raised his head and took a step forward, a new dawn before him.

[Andaron]

VERY cool story there. Sorry I took so long to read it, I should have done so sooner

One tip: just watch out for areas where you've put 'the' in front of some names - the Sergei, the Ivan. Momentary distraction at best though. A solid, mostly-polished work that captivated and made me keep reading.

[Tamanous]

Cheers mate, and sorry I've been absent so long, uni came back and I got a little caught up, thanks for the advice too.

Now that I'm on a little bit of a break I'd like to get back into some more writing, I'll keep you posted