[ wc 581 ]
In the several weeks it had taken him to do so, Ashen Snow had found his horizons broadened by the hunt for monsters. Thankfully, said hunt for monsters had been more like...search for clues more than any actual, well, monster hunting, so he had gotten out with his hide in tact, but nonetheless. Horizons. Bigger. The world was so much more than he could have ever imagined.
And it frightened him.
Ashen Snow had grown up in a place that had definitions, borders, seats firmly placed in logical conclusions. The mountains were big and tall, and they were all close to the northern part of Kells; therefore, snow would be common and it would generally be pretty cold. His dad was big and his grandparents were also huge; therefore, there had been a pretty good chance Ashen Snow would also be big. (And he was. It was annoying, mostly, like he was a still a pup too small for his own paws.) But after meeting Kale Greeleaf, after traversing the breadth of the continent and then even beyond the river to the south for another, the young wolf felt smaller still. An ant who had come across the paw prints of a much larger beast he couldn't possibly fathom.
He had never had much of a spine. Ashen Snow didn't say this to denigrate himself, because it was just the simple truth. His anxiety and self-consciousness, coupled with a steep hill to climb after his father, had led him down a path of always feeling, at best, well, second best. And only recently did he realize that his father, Melting Point, had pushed him to stay on that path...on purpose. The confidence Ash had seen as a pup had been nothing more than an idolized veneer over selfishness, self-centeredness at assuming he was the best thing since...well, that word. The S word that made puppies.
...Gods, look at him! Unable to say a simple word! How was he supposed to be a hero when even words scared him? Ashen Snow wished he could talk to someone about it, but he was afraid of opening up on top of everything else, as if speaking it aloud made it more concrete and inescapable. And, well, because he feared being made fun of even more.
Old Snow might be able to help him, he thought at length. The elder had helped see to him as a pup, and it was said he had a great many experiences. Maybe Ash could draw from them, or get advice, or maybe, gulp, talk to him about it. But even as he drew close to the den, even as he peeked in and called his name, and especially even as he saw the older wolf hobble and shake to move, he felt it: an instinct to reach out and help. And that should have told him something about himself, had he noticed it. That even though he was cowed with a single glare from Old Snow's good eye, he wanted to be there and support. And that perhaps should a monster like the ones he had seen traces of come out and attack his home, he would still find himself out there on the front line, terrified and yelping and yet doing everything in his power to protect others.
But Ashen Snow didn't notice. His attention, as ever, focused on those around him, for he was a terribly pitiful creature to look upon even in his own eyes.