Harmony is the goal of Wolves, as a whole—at least the ones from which Adairn had come. Often times, generally in natural environments, that means doing nothing. Creatures die, sometimes in ways that seem sad or meaningless. However, if a wolf steps far enough back, they can see the bigger cycle. There is a reason for all such things, it all belongs to a larger cycle. There are times, however, when that harmony I broken—usually starting with man. As a whole men, of all races, struggle to stay in balance with the natural rhythm of the world. The ability to recognize the difference of these scenarios, and to do something about it, is what wolves strive for.
When gods become involved in the affairs of mortals, when they take a personal hand in the machinations of the world, no matter their intent, discord will follow. If he had stayed with his pack, Adairn may have never heard of the affliction sweeping through the land. It had, however, become incredibly apparent to him quickly after starting his travels, that something was very wrong. Little time or effort was needed to discover the source of things. It chafed his wild nature a bit. Gods did not belong in the world of mortals. The power of a god could only disrupt.
Padding softly, nearly silent, on bare feet, he made his way to the center of it all. He had recited the mysterious words of the goddess to himself a hundred times. Truthfully, he still was not sure what he needed to do, but he was unable to do nothing. With faith in his instincts, and a heavy dose of hope, the wolf had set out. What he encountered was beyond the last thing he expected. The sound of music stopped him in his tracks. In the distance he could see her there, expert hands working the instrument.
It spoke to the wolf in his soul. In a somewhat trance-like state, he began moving towards the music. Normal hazel eyes had flooded a rich amber, the iris swelling to leave almost no white visible. Entirely oblivious to the child-like creature, Adairn knelt at the musician’s feet. Tall standing, he was still large so close to the ground. Shirtless and barefoot, he had a bow and arrows at his back, and a pack over one shoulder slumped to the ground. Dark pants of a strange style, an odd type of lacing on the outer seam, done in such a way that a quick strong pull at the top knot would allow the pants to fall completely free of his figure. Naturally olive skin darkened several shades by years in the sun and long dark hair, glinting auburn in the sun, hanging in a braid down his back marked him as a wolf to those who knew.
For a very brief moment, he stared up at her with wolf eyes. Closing his eyes, Adairn tilted his head back and howled. Each muscle and tendon in his neck stood out with definition, bulging, shifting ever-so-slightly, to create the reverberating haunting sound. It was a true wolf’s howl, not just the imitation of a man. The sound carried for miles, vibrating through his entire body.
