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Old 08-25-2004, 04:58 AM   #278
Nerindel
Spirited Weaver of Fates
 
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Korpúlfr

Kórpulfr sat close to the dying embers of the campfire his blanket pulled tightly about his shoulders to ward off the biting chill of the cold desert night, both his companions were now sleeping soundly their light breathing marked only by the steady rise and fall of their chest against the red glow of the fire light. Korpulfr stared through the flames at Tinar; several days alone in the desert seemed to have matured the young man considerably and calmed his impulsiveness. As he studied the peaceful features of his young friend, he wondered if this change was temporary or if as the elders of his clan believed, Tinar actually possessed the potential to someday take his mother place as head of the clans. Did this boy really possess something that the others of his clan did not?

Wolf blood? The thought came unbidden and in the soft firelight, Tinar’s sharp angular features suddenly bore a frightening resemblance to that of his father, the Raakaharn. Clenching his jaw defiantly, he rose from the fire pulling his blanket tighter as he turned and strode purposefully away from his sleeping companions, angrily he tried to dismiss the cold realisations that filled his mind. However, he could not if Tinar was blood kin to the Rakaaharn then it made sense that the elders would wish to see him as Wyrma’s successor and that their friendship was necessary to form a strong and influential alliance between the two clans.

Shaking his head he realised he was debating the advantages of a lie. Tinar is not wolf blood! He reminded himself. No, he could not believe his father would betray his mother’s memory in such a way, though he could not deny that his father’s behaviour of late was a concern, he took to locking himself in his study for hours on end, and when he did appear he was secretive and evasive. Kor looked back at the sleeping form of Hasrim wondering if his cousin knew any more than he did what was going on in his father mind.

No, he decided thoughtfully, if Hasrim knew anything, he would have told him already. I am being paranoid finding fault in what could only be stress brought on by Wyrma’s demands on my father; he concluded laughing at his own suspicions. “If I’m not careful I’ll begin to sound just like those fools who think that the Wyrm clan have some ulterior motive for uniting the clans!” he whispered shaking his head.

I have to find something to do, to prevent these foolish thought! He thought restlessly, and then looking out over the sandy horizon, he remembered the encampment that they had seen during their earlier scouting of the area. Several hours as the Raven flies! He thought contemplatively. Hasrim seemed to think the Gondorians would be stopping there for the night and although Kor did not doubt his cousin he thought to have a closer look, perhaps he could find something out, like who guided the Gondorians so will through the desert, carefully avoiding until now the other clans!

His mind made up he returned to the camp and gently roused his cousin, “Hmpf! What… What is it, what’s happened?” Hasrim asked sitting up and instinctively reaching for his sword.

“Calm cousin, nothing has happened,” Korpúlfr laughed, laying his hands assuringly on his cousin’s arm.

“Then what do you mean by rousing me before it is my turn for watch,” Hasrim scowled relaxing slightly as he looked up to note the moons position in the clear night sky.

“I am restless cousin, I wake you early that I may go take a closer look at the camp we espied earlier,” he grinned hoping to pacify his older companion.

“Are you sure that is wise?” Hasrim asked his scowl deepening into a concerned frown, “There is any number of clans who would not welcome unwanted guests in the night and we do not know if these are friend or foe!”

“Worry not cousin they won’t even know I am there, I will be back by morning!” he winked, then turning he shifted into his raven form and took to the air, his blanket falling to the ground beside his stunned cousin.

************************************************** ***

Hasrim

Hasrim stared at the fallen blanket for a long moment before rising, his dark, usually complacent eyes narrowing in cold and bitter unrestrained contempt, as he looked out in the direction his cousin had just flown. Angrily he picked up the blanket and violently tossed it aside, if only all things could be so easily cast aside he thought darkly. “Foolish boy!” he hissed through gritted teeth, He would ruin everything if he were captured or killed by a rival clan he chided bitterly, casting a cautionary glance to where Tinar lay, making sure the young Wyrmling was still sleeping.

His initial instinct was to follow Kor and make sure himself that the young wolf cub did not find any trouble, after all this was the task his uncle had assigned him to do. However, staring at Tinar through the orange glow of the fire he knew if something were to happen to him in his absence, his life would not be worth living, Wyrma would see to that! Frustrated he kicked the dry earth beneath his boot, watching it spit and hiss in the warm glow of the fire. He hated not being in control and having to trust that his younger cousin, who was pivotal to all his plans, would stay out of trouble grated him deeply.

He paced contemplating those plan, a play he had so carefully devised and set into motion with the death of his grandfather, he grinned wickedly as he remembered how easy it had been to slip the poison into the old mans drink. He did not die at once off course that would have drawn to much suspicion, especially since the old wolf was having his doubts about Wyrma’s grand plans, but rather he slowly but gradually became ill as if some mysterious sickness plagued him until at last his strength gave out and he finally passed away. Kórpulfr had been so upset he and his grandfather had been close, too close! He conceded bitterly. But he had insured that it was he who had been there to comfort and support his cousin and he who over the years had became his close friend and a trusted family member, Kor trusted him implicitly, even valuing his advise, just as he had planned! A twisted grin framed his dark features as he took satisfaction in his own cunning.

Last edited by Nerindel; 09-05-2004 at 11:47 AM.
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