Demir
Lines By: Unknown (Please notify me on DeviantArt if these are your lines.)
Breed: “Winged” Gray Wolf
Story: Tattered Wings
Timeline: Post Takeover
Personality:
Low Self-esteem: Demir feels like he is an outcast among his family. He is the next in line of the winged royal family to rule over the newly conquered continent, but he does not have the wings or magical capabilities of the other winged wolves. Because of his lack of abilities, he feels like he’s not worthy to lead and often lowers himself to the level of the normal wolves.
Quiet: Demir rarely speaks without being spoken to and answers others in the most concise way possible. There are very few wolves that can actually coax a conversation out of him, and these are the wolves he grows to trusts most.
Kindhearted: Demir was raised to be kind and respectful to others. His morals were easily developed seeing as he couldn’t even dream of hurting others. His kindness extends to the lower wolves, much to his parents’ disapproval.
Indecisive: Demir has a hard time making major decisions. He even questions some of the minor decisions made by his parents and goes as far as to question the legitimacy of the winged wolves to govern the normal wolves. His parents have tried to train the indecision out of him through education, but the education makes him question each decision even more.
Resentful: Though Demir is kind towards others and is only willing to fight when provoked, he can’t help resenting the fact that even his servants were once able to fly and use their magic. He wants to be like other winged wolves more than anything else.
Likes:
Alone Time: Demir would rather be alone than with others of his kind. He finds being alone to be the only cure to his resentment of his family. He also uses his time alone to think about the way the winged wolves treat the lower wolves.
Lower Wolves: Demir is fascinated by lower wolves and seems to connect with them better than his own kin. He’s even more willing to talk to the lower wolves more than his family if they coax him into a conversation. He wants to make life better for the lower wolves because of his similarity to them.
Jewelry and Tattoos: Though Demir sees his jewelry and tattoos as practical for his recognition, he thinks of tattoos as an art form and considered asking for more multiple time. He finds a similar appreciation for jewelry, though he never shows it because his father would disapprove. (NOTE: Tattoos in this world are more like permanently dying the fur rather than injecting ink beneath the skin.)
Dislikes:
His Family’s Servants: Demir hates the family servants merely because they’re always in his business. They also always seem to talk about him behind his back. He does, however, have a friendlier, yet still frustrating relationship with his personal servant, Altan.
Winged Wolves: Demir has love/hate feelings about his kin. He wants to be like them and to be accepted by them, but at the same time he dislikes their flaunting of their abilities (especially soul users). He also finds the winged wolves who torment the lower wolves to be cruel and terrible people.
Suffering: The few times Demir has been into any of his country’s cities, all he ever sees is lower wolves suffering from starvation or exploitation of some kind. These experiences are one part of why Demir questions whether his parents should rule the lower wolves.
History/Background:
My eyes scanned the lush greenery below, the top of the trees reminding me of a giant green porcupine. I could see the lower wolves (savages as some call them) running through the breaks in the trees, but I paid them no mind as I joyfully raised myself above the clouds and turned to face the sun.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was finally flying. The fluffy clouds that were above me all my life were finally stretched out below me. They looked solid like a snowy, barren wasteland, and I couldn’t help but plunge through them to prove to myself that they were really composed entirely of water.
Joy quickly turned to fear as I continued to plummet towards the spiky trees below. I willed myself to flap my wings but nothing happened. Why weren’t my wings working?
Finally, I turned my head to check for the problem and realized my wings were no longer present. There was nothing I could do but flail as I approached the ground below.
- - - - -
I jumped from my cushioned nest, my heart pounding almost painfully in my chest. The dream had been so real this time, as if I could actually feel the sunshine and taste the water from the clouds on my tongue. If only I could join my kin in the skies over our expanded kingdom.
“Prince Demir, is there something wrong?” my servant asked as he padded into my chamber. Even his tattered, unusable wings made me jealous of him.
“It’s nothing, Altan,” I answered as I slipped on my crescent moon necklace. The moon bore the royal crest of my family on its back. It was essential for me to wear this necklace or no one would be able to tell me from the lower wolves of our kingdom. Sometimes I even doubted my connection to the winged wolves and wondered if I would be better off as a lower wolf.
“I was under the impression that you had a bad dream, my prince,” Altan continued to pry. I didn’t answer him as I slipped on another piece of jewelry; a nice tail ring with elegant curves that matched the tattoo on my back.
Altan didn’t take my silence very well. My parents have always taught me that our servants were mindless servants of the government, mentally changed by a soul user because they performed the highest sin of using magic for war or crime. I had to disagree with this assertion. Altan was quite smart for a “mindless” servant.
“Was it another dream about wings?” Altan asked. He knew me too well. I had never told him about the subject matter of my dreams. All I could do was nod as I padded towards the entrance of my chamber. I didn’t want to talk about my lack of wings and magic. Thinking about it only reminded me that my familial connection was the only thing that kept me from being classified as a lower wolf.
Altan followed me, continuing the conversation anyway. “Sir, not flying is not that bad. You have the blood of royalty flowing through your veins. The tattoo on your back shows that you have wings even if they’re not really there.”
“I don’t feel like a royal,” I answered. The tattoo he mentioned was a less known symbol of my royalty. It was given to me when I was born through a mixture of a newly developed substance called paint and magic. As Altan mentioned, it was supposed to symbolize my winged heritage, but all it symbolizes to me is a mark of the outcast. I only received the tattoos on my face more recently in an attempt to bring more attention to my face than my lack of wings.
My lack of enthusiasm for talking must have finally sunken into Altan’s thick skull. There was only silence between us as we walked through the rooms my parents’ personal earth users had carved into the side of one of the country’s mountains.
I heard whispers as I walked past different servants towards the exit of our carved palace. There were always whispers when I was around. I was sure our multitude of servants was laughing at me right in front of me, confirming that I would have few followers as the next king.
I sighed and quickened my pace toward the outside world. It was about time for another excursion outside of the palace of the winged wolves.
“Are you going for another walk, Sir?” Altan asked. I needed a new servant. I didn’t like his strange ability to read my mind almost perfectly. Perhaps he had been a soul user before his “personality reformation” and still unknowingly used his powers.
“Yes. Please don’t follow me out of here,” I answered and slipped out the opening of the cave.
- - - - -
My mind cleared as I ran from the palace, the cool wind ruffling my fur. I felt the most content just running from place to place. This was probably the best replacement for flying I could find, and I almost bet I would have been a wind user if I had the magic ability.
By the time I finished my running, I was well into Clearsky City. I probably shouldn’t have been so far out of the imperial city of the winged wolves, but I couldn’t help myself. Being around so many wolves with wings just reminded me that I’d never be as good as them.
The city was bustling with what looked like healthy businesses but as I watched, I wasn’t quite sure. Many of the lower wolves looked like they were losing weight, while the only wolves trading with merchants were the larger, stronger males. Maybe the prices were too high? Not wanting to start an argument and reveal myself, I slowly decided to ask my father to talk to Matt about it later.
I continued through the city’s market, trying to get a feel for how the quality of life was for the lower wolves. It wasn’t helpful that I was getting mixed signals from the citizens. Healthy pups played near the end of the clearing while seemingly starving adults begged for meat from the merchants.
I looked from the pups to the adults and back to the pups multiple times trying to assess the situation, but I simply could not figure out how the majority of the lower wolves felt about their new lives. ‘Should I ask them?’ I wondered, taking a step towards the wolves. I stopped a moment later, worried that I might make things worse.
“You look troubled.”
I jumped and whirled around to see an older, male lower wolf whose fur was a slightly darker shad of gray than my own. I must have been deep in thought to let my guard so far down in the city.
“I was just thinking,” I answered, praying that I sounded like a normal lower wolf. Very few citizens (winged or lower) knew what the prince looked like. I never attended any public events, afraid that I would give my parents a bad name for keeping a lower wolf in such luxury.
Thankfully, my status wasn’t too hard to hide. The tattoos could pass as normal (albeit unusual) markings, and there were a few rich lower wolves who could afford jewelry. I had only been recognized once by a guard who was a close family friend.
“Come with me. Talking about your troubles is better than sulking in them,” the older wolf murmured and began to walk off. I made no move to follow him. I had no clue what his intentions were and the loss of the only prince to the throne would be catastrophic, even if I wasn’t the ideal candidate. But still… the offer was tempting.
As if he sensed that I wasn’t behind him, the old wolf turned and beckoned me with a flick of his ear. I eyed the passing group of Peace Keepers, wondering if he was luring me into a trap but slowly began to follow him anyway.
- - - - -
I was led to a smaller clearing not too far from the marketplace. Wildflowers engulfed the clearing, though the chilly autumn wind was slowly killing them, and a small stream fed by a small lake a few miles east meandered around one side, providing clean drinking water. This wolf had to be a strong fighter to hold onto such a nice piece of property.
The old wolf padded to the stream and took a long drink before seating himself nearby. I slowly approached and sat across from him. “Nice property you have here.”
The old wolf smiled, “I’ve never heard one of my own call this small territory a property. You’re one of the winged ones, aren’t you?”
‘Moron!’ I inwardly scolded myself. How could I have been so stupid as to not realize property was a winged wolf term? Perhaps I could still save my cover…
“Do you see wings on my back, sir? I am one of your own. I’ve just been around many winged wolves and got used to their terminology.”
The old wolf didn’t look convinced; his silver eyes pierced into me looking for the truth beneath my lie. “You can call me Daniz. Now, we’re here, in confidence, to talk about your troubles. You don’t have to lie to me. I can tell you’re more than an ordinary wolf. Besides, those tattoos of yours could only be done by the best soul users in the land.”
I stared at Daniz, stunned by his knowledge of my kin. Lower wolves knew very little about our different magic users and our advanced culture. How in the world did he even realize the markings on my back were anything more than markings?
“Well?” he asked, obviously waiting for my response. I stayed silent, my paws itching with the urge to run from this wolf before I told him everything. However, part of my wanted to tell him everything. Perhaps I should get it off my chest now instead of snapping at someone in the palace later…
Finally, I forced myself to answer before I changed my mind, “You’re right. I’m Demir, the prince of the winged wolves who rule this land.”
There was a small twinkle in the old wolf’s silver eyes. Was it pride? No, there was no reason for that would to be proud of any member of the family that took over his land. I must be imagining it.
“It’s good to meet you, Demir. It’s not everyday a wolf such as myself gets to speak to the royals of this land.”
“You admire the winged wolves?” I asked, confused. I wasn’t conceived until after the takeover, but surely the older lower wolves would have resented my people for taking over and messing with their government.
“The winged wolves are a fascinating race of wolves. They have such strong powers, but they fought only with teeth and claws in the war, just like we did. Imperialism aside, they don’t seem like bad people; though, I would be killed by my kin if they knew I thought this way,” Daniz answered.
“I see. I suppose me talking equally with you would probably be looked down upon by my kin as well. Sometimes I can’t help but feel a need to be among those similar to myself. Sometimes I feel like I should be a lo… uh… a normal wolf instead of a winged one,” I murmured, faltering on the last part. Calling a lower wolf a lower wolf to his face seemed condescending, especially when we were talking as equals.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” He asked. At my nod, he continued in a somewhat fatherly tone, “You shouldn’t feel so bad about who you are. You may not have wings, but at least you’re a kind young wolf who’s not afraid to talk with an old commoner like me. Besides, I’m sure your parents are proud of you.”
I smiled at Daniz’s words. The old wolf sure knew how to make an outcast feel better about himself. However, he had one thing wrong, “My father never seems proud of me. He always seems to want more children. My mother has tried to give him more, but I seem to be the only one she’s been able to give him.”
Daniz frowned and looked toward the stream, as if that small body of water could provide the answers that he couldn’t find by himself. Finally, he spoke, “Well, even if your father’s not completely proud of you, that doesn’t mean you’re nothing. You seem like a smart, capable wolf, and that’s all that should matter to him. You’ll make a great king, Demir. Perhaps you’ll even bring our two races together into one united, peaceful country.”
It was my turn to look towards the stream, though I was plagued by worry instead of looking for answers. I kept my gaze steady on the stream as the next question escaped from my muzzle before I was able to stop it, “How can you be so sure? I could just make it worse.”
“Trust me, you won’t make it worse. If you speak to all of my kin with the same respect and equality you use to speak with me, you’ll be a far better ruler than your father. After all, you don’t need wings or magic to be a good leader. You need loyal subjects who will follow you until your last breath.”
Silence fell upon us as I mulled over his words. I had never thought of my situation in such a way. Perhaps I was born to undo the problems my parents had brought on lower wolves. I couldn’t help resent my family for their abilities, but maybe I could be more than an outcast…
“Thank you for your advice, Daniz. Perhaps I could come speak with you again?”
The old wolf stood with a nod. “It’s a pleasure talking with you Demir. I’d love to meet you again sometime.”
With nothing else to say, I also stood and turned to leave. “I should probably get back to the palace before my mother starts to worry. She always punishes Altan when I’m missing for too long. See you later, Daniz.”
“Goodbye Demir,” the old wolf called.
As I padded away, I thought I heard him continue with a whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you wings.” When I turned to question him, however, he was already disappearing into his den
Breed: “Winged” Gray Wolf
Story: Tattered Wings
Timeline: Post Takeover
Personality:
Low Self-esteem: Demir feels like he is an outcast among his family. He is the next in line of the winged royal family to rule over the newly conquered continent, but he does not have the wings or magical capabilities of the other winged wolves. Because of his lack of abilities, he feels like he’s not worthy to lead and often lowers himself to the level of the normal wolves.
Quiet: Demir rarely speaks without being spoken to and answers others in the most concise way possible. There are very few wolves that can actually coax a conversation out of him, and these are the wolves he grows to trusts most.
Kindhearted: Demir was raised to be kind and respectful to others. His morals were easily developed seeing as he couldn’t even dream of hurting others. His kindness extends to the lower wolves, much to his parents’ disapproval.
Indecisive: Demir has a hard time making major decisions. He even questions some of the minor decisions made by his parents and goes as far as to question the legitimacy of the winged wolves to govern the normal wolves. His parents have tried to train the indecision out of him through education, but the education makes him question each decision even more.
Resentful: Though Demir is kind towards others and is only willing to fight when provoked, he can’t help resenting the fact that even his servants were once able to fly and use their magic. He wants to be like other winged wolves more than anything else.
Likes:
Alone Time: Demir would rather be alone than with others of his kind. He finds being alone to be the only cure to his resentment of his family. He also uses his time alone to think about the way the winged wolves treat the lower wolves.
Lower Wolves: Demir is fascinated by lower wolves and seems to connect with them better than his own kin. He’s even more willing to talk to the lower wolves more than his family if they coax him into a conversation. He wants to make life better for the lower wolves because of his similarity to them.
Jewelry and Tattoos: Though Demir sees his jewelry and tattoos as practical for his recognition, he thinks of tattoos as an art form and considered asking for more multiple time. He finds a similar appreciation for jewelry, though he never shows it because his father would disapprove. (NOTE: Tattoos in this world are more like permanently dying the fur rather than injecting ink beneath the skin.)
Dislikes:
His Family’s Servants: Demir hates the family servants merely because they’re always in his business. They also always seem to talk about him behind his back. He does, however, have a friendlier, yet still frustrating relationship with his personal servant, Altan.
Winged Wolves: Demir has love/hate feelings about his kin. He wants to be like them and to be accepted by them, but at the same time he dislikes their flaunting of their abilities (especially soul users). He also finds the winged wolves who torment the lower wolves to be cruel and terrible people.
Suffering: The few times Demir has been into any of his country’s cities, all he ever sees is lower wolves suffering from starvation or exploitation of some kind. These experiences are one part of why Demir questions whether his parents should rule the lower wolves.
History/Background:
My eyes scanned the lush greenery below, the top of the trees reminding me of a giant green porcupine. I could see the lower wolves (savages as some call them) running through the breaks in the trees, but I paid them no mind as I joyfully raised myself above the clouds and turned to face the sun.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was finally flying. The fluffy clouds that were above me all my life were finally stretched out below me. They looked solid like a snowy, barren wasteland, and I couldn’t help but plunge through them to prove to myself that they were really composed entirely of water.
Joy quickly turned to fear as I continued to plummet towards the spiky trees below. I willed myself to flap my wings but nothing happened. Why weren’t my wings working?
Finally, I turned my head to check for the problem and realized my wings were no longer present. There was nothing I could do but flail as I approached the ground below.
- - - - -
I jumped from my cushioned nest, my heart pounding almost painfully in my chest. The dream had been so real this time, as if I could actually feel the sunshine and taste the water from the clouds on my tongue. If only I could join my kin in the skies over our expanded kingdom.
“Prince Demir, is there something wrong?” my servant asked as he padded into my chamber. Even his tattered, unusable wings made me jealous of him.
“It’s nothing, Altan,” I answered as I slipped on my crescent moon necklace. The moon bore the royal crest of my family on its back. It was essential for me to wear this necklace or no one would be able to tell me from the lower wolves of our kingdom. Sometimes I even doubted my connection to the winged wolves and wondered if I would be better off as a lower wolf.
“I was under the impression that you had a bad dream, my prince,” Altan continued to pry. I didn’t answer him as I slipped on another piece of jewelry; a nice tail ring with elegant curves that matched the tattoo on my back.
Altan didn’t take my silence very well. My parents have always taught me that our servants were mindless servants of the government, mentally changed by a soul user because they performed the highest sin of using magic for war or crime. I had to disagree with this assertion. Altan was quite smart for a “mindless” servant.
“Was it another dream about wings?” Altan asked. He knew me too well. I had never told him about the subject matter of my dreams. All I could do was nod as I padded towards the entrance of my chamber. I didn’t want to talk about my lack of wings and magic. Thinking about it only reminded me that my familial connection was the only thing that kept me from being classified as a lower wolf.
Altan followed me, continuing the conversation anyway. “Sir, not flying is not that bad. You have the blood of royalty flowing through your veins. The tattoo on your back shows that you have wings even if they’re not really there.”
“I don’t feel like a royal,” I answered. The tattoo he mentioned was a less known symbol of my royalty. It was given to me when I was born through a mixture of a newly developed substance called paint and magic. As Altan mentioned, it was supposed to symbolize my winged heritage, but all it symbolizes to me is a mark of the outcast. I only received the tattoos on my face more recently in an attempt to bring more attention to my face than my lack of wings.
My lack of enthusiasm for talking must have finally sunken into Altan’s thick skull. There was only silence between us as we walked through the rooms my parents’ personal earth users had carved into the side of one of the country’s mountains.
I heard whispers as I walked past different servants towards the exit of our carved palace. There were always whispers when I was around. I was sure our multitude of servants was laughing at me right in front of me, confirming that I would have few followers as the next king.
I sighed and quickened my pace toward the outside world. It was about time for another excursion outside of the palace of the winged wolves.
“Are you going for another walk, Sir?” Altan asked. I needed a new servant. I didn’t like his strange ability to read my mind almost perfectly. Perhaps he had been a soul user before his “personality reformation” and still unknowingly used his powers.
“Yes. Please don’t follow me out of here,” I answered and slipped out the opening of the cave.
- - - - -
My mind cleared as I ran from the palace, the cool wind ruffling my fur. I felt the most content just running from place to place. This was probably the best replacement for flying I could find, and I almost bet I would have been a wind user if I had the magic ability.
By the time I finished my running, I was well into Clearsky City. I probably shouldn’t have been so far out of the imperial city of the winged wolves, but I couldn’t help myself. Being around so many wolves with wings just reminded me that I’d never be as good as them.
The city was bustling with what looked like healthy businesses but as I watched, I wasn’t quite sure. Many of the lower wolves looked like they were losing weight, while the only wolves trading with merchants were the larger, stronger males. Maybe the prices were too high? Not wanting to start an argument and reveal myself, I slowly decided to ask my father to talk to Matt about it later.
I continued through the city’s market, trying to get a feel for how the quality of life was for the lower wolves. It wasn’t helpful that I was getting mixed signals from the citizens. Healthy pups played near the end of the clearing while seemingly starving adults begged for meat from the merchants.
I looked from the pups to the adults and back to the pups multiple times trying to assess the situation, but I simply could not figure out how the majority of the lower wolves felt about their new lives. ‘Should I ask them?’ I wondered, taking a step towards the wolves. I stopped a moment later, worried that I might make things worse.
“You look troubled.”
I jumped and whirled around to see an older, male lower wolf whose fur was a slightly darker shad of gray than my own. I must have been deep in thought to let my guard so far down in the city.
“I was just thinking,” I answered, praying that I sounded like a normal lower wolf. Very few citizens (winged or lower) knew what the prince looked like. I never attended any public events, afraid that I would give my parents a bad name for keeping a lower wolf in such luxury.
Thankfully, my status wasn’t too hard to hide. The tattoos could pass as normal (albeit unusual) markings, and there were a few rich lower wolves who could afford jewelry. I had only been recognized once by a guard who was a close family friend.
“Come with me. Talking about your troubles is better than sulking in them,” the older wolf murmured and began to walk off. I made no move to follow him. I had no clue what his intentions were and the loss of the only prince to the throne would be catastrophic, even if I wasn’t the ideal candidate. But still… the offer was tempting.
As if he sensed that I wasn’t behind him, the old wolf turned and beckoned me with a flick of his ear. I eyed the passing group of Peace Keepers, wondering if he was luring me into a trap but slowly began to follow him anyway.
- - - - -
I was led to a smaller clearing not too far from the marketplace. Wildflowers engulfed the clearing, though the chilly autumn wind was slowly killing them, and a small stream fed by a small lake a few miles east meandered around one side, providing clean drinking water. This wolf had to be a strong fighter to hold onto such a nice piece of property.
The old wolf padded to the stream and took a long drink before seating himself nearby. I slowly approached and sat across from him. “Nice property you have here.”
The old wolf smiled, “I’ve never heard one of my own call this small territory a property. You’re one of the winged ones, aren’t you?”
‘Moron!’ I inwardly scolded myself. How could I have been so stupid as to not realize property was a winged wolf term? Perhaps I could still save my cover…
“Do you see wings on my back, sir? I am one of your own. I’ve just been around many winged wolves and got used to their terminology.”
The old wolf didn’t look convinced; his silver eyes pierced into me looking for the truth beneath my lie. “You can call me Daniz. Now, we’re here, in confidence, to talk about your troubles. You don’t have to lie to me. I can tell you’re more than an ordinary wolf. Besides, those tattoos of yours could only be done by the best soul users in the land.”
I stared at Daniz, stunned by his knowledge of my kin. Lower wolves knew very little about our different magic users and our advanced culture. How in the world did he even realize the markings on my back were anything more than markings?
“Well?” he asked, obviously waiting for my response. I stayed silent, my paws itching with the urge to run from this wolf before I told him everything. However, part of my wanted to tell him everything. Perhaps I should get it off my chest now instead of snapping at someone in the palace later…
Finally, I forced myself to answer before I changed my mind, “You’re right. I’m Demir, the prince of the winged wolves who rule this land.”
There was a small twinkle in the old wolf’s silver eyes. Was it pride? No, there was no reason for that would to be proud of any member of the family that took over his land. I must be imagining it.
“It’s good to meet you, Demir. It’s not everyday a wolf such as myself gets to speak to the royals of this land.”
“You admire the winged wolves?” I asked, confused. I wasn’t conceived until after the takeover, but surely the older lower wolves would have resented my people for taking over and messing with their government.
“The winged wolves are a fascinating race of wolves. They have such strong powers, but they fought only with teeth and claws in the war, just like we did. Imperialism aside, they don’t seem like bad people; though, I would be killed by my kin if they knew I thought this way,” Daniz answered.
“I see. I suppose me talking equally with you would probably be looked down upon by my kin as well. Sometimes I can’t help but feel a need to be among those similar to myself. Sometimes I feel like I should be a lo… uh… a normal wolf instead of a winged one,” I murmured, faltering on the last part. Calling a lower wolf a lower wolf to his face seemed condescending, especially when we were talking as equals.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” He asked. At my nod, he continued in a somewhat fatherly tone, “You shouldn’t feel so bad about who you are. You may not have wings, but at least you’re a kind young wolf who’s not afraid to talk with an old commoner like me. Besides, I’m sure your parents are proud of you.”
I smiled at Daniz’s words. The old wolf sure knew how to make an outcast feel better about himself. However, he had one thing wrong, “My father never seems proud of me. He always seems to want more children. My mother has tried to give him more, but I seem to be the only one she’s been able to give him.”
Daniz frowned and looked toward the stream, as if that small body of water could provide the answers that he couldn’t find by himself. Finally, he spoke, “Well, even if your father’s not completely proud of you, that doesn’t mean you’re nothing. You seem like a smart, capable wolf, and that’s all that should matter to him. You’ll make a great king, Demir. Perhaps you’ll even bring our two races together into one united, peaceful country.”
It was my turn to look towards the stream, though I was plagued by worry instead of looking for answers. I kept my gaze steady on the stream as the next question escaped from my muzzle before I was able to stop it, “How can you be so sure? I could just make it worse.”
“Trust me, you won’t make it worse. If you speak to all of my kin with the same respect and equality you use to speak with me, you’ll be a far better ruler than your father. After all, you don’t need wings or magic to be a good leader. You need loyal subjects who will follow you until your last breath.”
Silence fell upon us as I mulled over his words. I had never thought of my situation in such a way. Perhaps I was born to undo the problems my parents had brought on lower wolves. I couldn’t help resent my family for their abilities, but maybe I could be more than an outcast…
“Thank you for your advice, Daniz. Perhaps I could come speak with you again?”
The old wolf stood with a nod. “It’s a pleasure talking with you Demir. I’d love to meet you again sometime.”
With nothing else to say, I also stood and turned to leave. “I should probably get back to the palace before my mother starts to worry. She always punishes Altan when I’m missing for too long. See you later, Daniz.”
“Goodbye Demir,” the old wolf called.
As I padded away, I thought I heard him continue with a whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you wings.” When I turned to question him, however, he was already disappearing into his den