I'm too young to go to jail,

@Warwick perhaps?

Snow had hit their home some time ago, drenching it in a white blanket. Each step she took made a crunch, as the Queen stuck out like a sore thumb within the winters grace. Brown in hues, as many within the forest were.. And yet, the bright, stark light was their downfall for the time. As the season always does, winter was a struggle for food ; but a thanks to the High Elk, for continuing to give them an ample amount to survive.

She would have thought to take back the rule of hunt when it came to the royal ungulates, and thankfully so.. It was not needed for the time. Boar continued to run rampant through, as well as the smaller prey. Except occasionally now, with the fighting of food, the need to guard against coyotes and foxes were greater then ever. But it wasn't the biggest worry, for the adults of Elkshire fought them and always in the end, won against. Or unknowingly, some would just let them go.. Celnes wouldn't hold that grudge, as long as the thieves wouldn't return.

Thus, the peace continued even in winter. She strolled to one of the various waterfall streams that hung around the crown. Frozen though, she cautiously touched the river to see how exactly stable it was, and whether it was passable to step on, or a warning to give to the other wolves to be careful.. How cold was it, to be steady enough to glide upon?

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A wave of spirited curiosity pushed the young monarch to stalk his mothers' footfalls. With only a glimmer of a dark hue in the form of his queen, amidst the stark whiteness of the forest backcloth, he took eager strides to keep up to where she was taking herself. Many routes that now became so integrated into the map of his mind, were not even as parallel to the one his dam took in this moment. And he did not want to miss the steps she took that would create another path into the winding trails of Elkshire.

He eventually drew closer to his dam when she reached the icy waters of a lake, and his nose lowered to take a drink from the sourly fresh water beside her. As he did so, he wouldn't realise his grave error once the pink ripeness and warmth of his tongue made contact with the solid frozen water. The tip of his tongue stuck immediately to its surface. Tugging gently, as though it would spring back naturally into his agape mouth, he felt the dawning of mild panic rising, knowing he made a mistake he was going to pay for.

'Uvver?', he called his mother cautiously, hoping she would know how to get the unwise prince out of his juvenile trouble.

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Though her young have grown, the Queen often forgets they are still children, learning as they go and doing rather.. Idiotic moments, as she was perplexed on her eldest getting his tongue caught upon the ice. An innocence to his gaze, much unlike a Deorwine and yet, she would not mind if he stayed that way. But alas it could not meant to be, for the world was wicked enough where that would be taken away just as quick as he came. 

She wouldn't allow that to come.

There was a slight chuckle as she approached, "breath slowly on it, a hot breath to melt the ice," as she lowered her own head to breath upon the place his tongue caught. She would not stretch her own, for the same fate would happen if so — and Celnes, would rather be caught dead then in an embarrassing moment.

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It seemed to tug only brought more gravity and pain to the situation and pulling only ever so slightly felt like a defeated solution. He then opted to wait until his mother walked over and offer instruction to alleviate himself from the ice. 

He did as he was told, always one to listen wisely to his queen, unlike perhaps a couple of his rebellious siblings. It would come as no surprise to him from his mother tales of their religion and heady warnings, that a few of the bunch could sway in opposition to them all. Making a vow to their immortal, he would do all he could to prevent them from straying down the wrong paths in the future. 

The heat from his dams breath and his own took very little time to thaw out the sticky tongue. Pulling it back into the pleasant warmth of his chops, he rolled it around his mouth briefly, though still numb as he managed to mutter a thank you to his saviour. 'My thongue feelth weird', he let it be known. Moving away from the ice, he sat along its banks, wondering what his mother was doing here if she knew so much about the icy waters.

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"The cold turns to ice, and brings a numbing if on you too long. It's best to keep warm, especially within these winter times." She said lightly, a warning that it wasn't wise to toy with such temperatures. Though safe in the arms of their forest, a sanctuary for them and the prey that lives — not all were fortunate for the same, and scavenges for food and warmth. Within the Exalted Grotto did the family live, bundled together to withstand the coldness of the outside, alongside with the few others that tried to keep the winter depths away.

"Beauty can be dangerous," she said, an eye gazing around to the endless frost before them. A beauty in the speckling of whites that filtered around, it brought a wonderland, to the world. Playful within the childrens view as they followed into the bundles of snow piles, and yet a shiver to the bone if staying into too long. It truly was a venomous season, where it deleted the colors of the world and brought a new affection, but one that brings a terror.

"Be careful not to step too far into the river, the ice can crack," though her son sat at the banks she warned lightly, "you'll feel the same on your that is on your tongue, and a coldness seeping in. Sometimes, it can be painful." But to the shore that they were on, it was safe. She could swipe him easily if he fell to hard, and a few paws in would just splash his front. She was a careful mother, to the current heir after all.

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He continued to toy and roll his tongue within the warmth of his mouth, all the while listening to his mothers' lesson but also fascinated with its peculiar sensation. It would not take long however for it to return to normal, and with curious eyes, he scrutinised the glacial platform before the two royals. 

Beautiful it was, with an ear swivelled toward his mothers' warnings, he listened. Though Warwick did not yet register the danger it posed. The equation of sussing this out was still being juggled about in his young mind, but the bitter taste, quite literally, was still lingering from his lapse in judgement only moments ago, and so he opted to remain on the safety of its banks. 

For now.

On the other side of the solid iced lake looked like two or three does were arriving likewise to quench their thirst, but it was apparent to him they were not as naive as the duke and took hesitating steps when they realised they could not access the water. 

'What of the elk? Do we need to break it for them?', he wasn't so sure they had the same intellect as they did when it came to finding sources of food and water, and a tug at his chest meant he felt a compelling urge in his duty to care for them.

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The Queen mother shook her head, "We must not interfere with their ways unless they tell us or show us what they want." She said to him. It wasn't wise to interfere with their habits, for they were free — and always wary of wolves. It wouldn't do good if all of the elk had gotten too used to them, for though they were alright with Elkshire wolves within a general same area, they did not do good if one approached too close. Less of a chance to be devoured, if they continued with a caution.

"They can find other ways," she said, her gaze continuing on them as they turned away from the stream. They could not access the water, and knew better then to just lick it straight like Warwick did. However, instead they turned to a pile of a snow, and started to munch on it. There were other ways they would retrieve water, and there was plenty of fallen, frozen droplets around.

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He understood, though his heart yearned to aid them in that moment. His fondness grew evermore for the sacred animals, and with concern brimming within his eyes, he watched eagerly until they moved from the perilous edges and delicately nibbled at the fluffy flakes of the cold snow as if the narrative of his mother guided them to do so. 

'How much longer until the cold leaves us?', the season was fluctuating with its indecisiveness, one moment a wave of mild but wet weather would devour the forest, but then days would pass and the cloud of white would quickly return to envelop the dark and dreariness, bringing light, freshness and a sense of cleanliness with its purity. 

While he and his sovereign siblings had enjoyed their first sightings of snow, playing for endless hours in it, he was now longing for the end of summer days when daylight was eternal and warmth was plentiful.

Citrine eyes still concentrated on the elk, as they slowly retreated back into the haven of their woodlands. They must be longing for the change too, he thought.

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She hummed in thought, taking memory of her previous winters. Though she didn't realize at the time her current age didn't match up with memory. She had aged down a year, since coming to the new land ; and her mind was older then her body. Yet soon she would come of age, and continue onwards with an unknown bliss, as the aging down was so little it was undetected. She knew this was her fourth winter, "It should be within two more moons, that we will embrace spring."

The guessing was estimated, as they still held firm to the snow and yet knew by the next month, they would feel the warmth. The snow would slowly melt until nothing would fall except for the rain.. Then the greenery, would shine through. So she would hope, but sometimes the seasons founds their way and squirmed longer then they were wanted — unknown reasonings that the Gods toyed with, and she hoped the High Elk would grant such a leniency, and let her children experience their first spring soon. 

"Maybe we will see more young elk around as well."

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He coiled into himself slightly and released a typical boyish moan, deflated at the notion there was still a long period of enduring the baltic conditions, not in favour of the cold at all. But there seemed to be a shining light at the end of the tunnel, with his dams shared knowledge. 

Head turned eagerly to face his mother, eyes expanding with a renewed exhilaration. 'Will we be able to visit the young elk?', if they were even a pinch like the protective queen that doted on him and his siblings when they were but a few days old, the likelihood was not, but would his mother or another high guard not tend to the flock daily to ensure no predators took advantage of the younglings? Surely they do. 

And if they did, he would naturally be the first to volunteer to attend such rounds.

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With a soft, pitied smile, Celnes shook her head, "The elk are most cautious during this time. The best we can do is watch from afar within Little Fawn Grove, but remember not to go near. They will come after you." A mothers instinct was protective, it transcended to all species.. Though for males a lot of the times it's not the care for the young, but rather hearing the dying call of one of their females will a King come marching forward, showing his antlers in a glorious battle to whoever recieves their end.

.. She did not want to be on the end of those again. They once ended her life, and she knew best to keep cautious. Especially to her kind as she guided and warned Warwick of so.

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The world of Spring was one he was yet to witness. With its plethora of joys, revitalisation of nature and rebirth of all, it would become the time of year that Warwick would grow to be most fond of to the rest of the seasons that partook a role here. All he had to do was wait, but little did he know that yet.

His natural intrigue for the sacred calves they protected hadn't been entirely squashed with a solid no. The innocence of his curiosity resided on his lips with a pleased smile at his mothers' answer. 'They won't come after me! They like me!', the duke sat defiant, reminding his dam of his naivety, but also he truly believed they were, when the stark reality was, there had been an adolescent bull or two demonstrating a glimpse of their aggression should the need arise for it, whenever the prince trod that line he was warned of numerously. 

Maybe Edith will come with me. Then they could get closer.

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A soft chuckle, from his reluctance to believe, "To them.. We are predators, that can turn on them any day, to make a meal for the season. Wouldn't that be scary to you, thinking that the someone within the same forest, could turn on you any day?" The Queen decided to take another way to try and tell him why they would be afraid of them, even after all this time. Though surely some will approach, it could not be said that all of them feel the same way ; especially the male elk, who were very territorial when it comes to their woman. For the time being, a mutual understanding came between the forest and them — where they normally left each other alone. 

"While we may not, wolves in general hunt elk and deer. Even within our religion, we are allowed to hunt those who are not horned. But you know why we don't hunt any in this forest?" She asked her son — as the Queen remembered the time when the first winter arrived, and he protested on them hunting an elk. He was so small back then, and definitely held the right attitude what should be. Yet, did he know why, they truly didn't anymore?

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The duke did not openly defy his queen, and turning into adulthood he would never do what he did next, but he disrespected her answer and gave a loud short snort in retaliation. He knew she was right, while he was a predator and they prey, there would never become a time where the elk became complacent with the wolves - and there lay the true reason for his upset.

'Maybe...', he muttered, unable to bring himself to concur. From being introduced to the elk at an unripe young age, and joining his dam on routine patrols of their welfare, it became ingrained they were to protect the flock, and so it came to no surprise of Warwick's protests when his monarch announced the call of tradition, one he was still not over and completely against it although who was he to disobey and challenge the High Elks' command. 

Whilst he and his siblings were told few stories of their faith, and of the unbroken rule that applied to all welcomed into Elkshires claim, he never questioned it, only obeyed. 

He shook his head, no. 'I just thought ours were holy and sacred and that's why no one was allowed to', a perception only a child could envision or fantasize of. Clearly, there were still many chapters yet to be disclosed.

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As she sat down and gazed upon where the elk lingered at, the mother opened up about a story that he may have heard of already. She was honest about the religion, praising to be and giving them the holy rites to know so. Even if she at times, questioned so — there was still a belief, that judgement is there and most of the time.. An envy, but that envy solidified her mortality on His existence, "Long ago, for our exchange to stay true to the High Elk under his guidance and be given His protection, and our protection toward His herd, we were granted a pardon to only hunt those who are not horned. We will never be allowed to hunt those with antlers, for not only are their antlers direct communication to the High Elk, it is a sign that they are their herds protector, and alongside, the forests protector."

They were important to the system, even without religion itself. Most herds had some sort of leader, a guidance when something came up and threatened those who bring life. They would bleat and call forth. She wondered if their religion formed in some way to protect that system within the world itself, for no over-hunting led to the safety of a well liveable forest. Yet without that hunt, all the flora within the area would be ate. The forest they lingered in was safe from this factor, for those who strayed out were hunted, and dwindled the herds size. Every year does it grow, and shrink, and repeat.

"Long ago did one of our ancestors betray such ways, slaughtering the King of the forest. Some say it was due to a bloodlust, and others say it was a famine. But with the herd having no protection, other wolves came after them one by one.. And so did the forest downfall come true." The story she heard so much as a child. The forest bathed in red and blood, and no mercy given to the King nor' his doe's later on. Though.. There were always questions from herself, that she refrained from speaking.

"Wolves cannot change their nature, but his benevolence granted us pardon for those sent to us for our due diligence in serving. And thus did the white streaks come to play, he bleached their pelt as a warning to others. Beware of them, for what happened in the past may repeat."

Though what she was told that those of white are descendants of these sinners, and are still living through his punishment. A curse brought down and streamed endlessly through — but for Celnes, she always thought that was silly. Why punish those who done nothing?

But there was nothing wrong with.. Tweaking, the religion. No one had yet to say otherwise.

"But our forest is special. You may not remember him, but there was once an Elk that helped raise you, and your siblings. Some of them within our forest are able to speak, and he was one of them. The High Elk granted them the speech of wolves, but he wasn't the only one, first there was a female deer." To remember the elk and deer that once were, they may not remember but she surely will. A missing of them, and a wanting for a replacement. It brought a comfort, like the Patron itself was protecting her and her children. But one day did they vanish, and she never knew where they went. Celnes only hoped her children had forgotten, for it was painful to lose such figures in ones life.

"We cannot risk hunting these holy beings, especially if they find our forest a haven to those who find pleasure, in the hunt."

So much to be said, she only hoped it wasn't too much information for Warwick, as she looked over to him.

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Honey eyes gazed upon his queen and hazed over as her words sunk in and he envisioned all she recounted. It was as if he could see Him, their High Elk and the moment an unwritten compact was arranged with the first Deorwine. Then when his dam spoke of His herd, he saw them, and how the wolves watched over and stayed true to their word and worship. 

All of him and his siblings had heard various stories of their religion, dribs and drabs as nighttime stories to fill their minds with the wondrous dreams of their Patron as each, in turn, could no longer keep their eyes open. But as he grew of age, the more it all became engraved into his mind, and he could then recollect and reiterate it to those not familiar. 

She talked of the elk who watched over them, and this reminder reminded him of a memory now lost.

'Vaskian...', he whispered with sadness, heartbroken by the realisation this true friend was no longer with them. And the duke pondered on this for a moment. Allowing his dam to finish before expressing his thoughts.

'Do you think Vaskian was sent to us from Him?', as the High Elk would watch over them, perhaps it was a benefaction for Celnes, to watch over the pups when needed until they grew old enough to no longer need His extra protection, thus his disappearance without a goodbye to cause pain. 'And what of the horned ones that are bad?', he recalled the time he encountered the sinister doe that came to upset his sister, he had not mentioned this to his dam as of yet.

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"Sometimes I wonder that. He came like the wind, and left on the breeze. Perhaps he truly was one, sent by the High Elk." It couldn't be denied, it truly was a wonder. A guard of protection as she fell into a darkness of loom, despaired by betrayal that was given — but at least, there was one protecting her own kin until finally, they grew. Yet, the time was short, for they could not properly remember Vaskian.. But the Queen will, and always will think of it was a blessing. A sign, that maybe the High Elk knows her children are innocent ; and yet, she will not be free from those signs.

But her children are, and now into motherhood she cared more then she originally thought she would. If only though, her own mother was similar.. 

"To us, pure white elk are to be hunted. They are dangerous. Likewise, those of pure black are often said to be an ominous sign, and we should avoid the area if so, and leave them be.. A mixture is of unknown. We never truly know when someone is good, or bad — the High Elk can only guide us so far within life, but cannot always intervene with the laws of the world." 

How easy would that be knowing who truly was evil or not. She held her chuckle, for Celnes knew of her own origins and she would have been marked. Yet blessed by royal browns and given a crown above all.. She would only hope her children lean more to her side, instead of an innocence where they could be toyed.

"It is up to you to what you define is 'bad.'"

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The duke gave his mother a sad smile in reflection to their faint memory and heartfelt sentiments to Vaskian's presence and absence. There weren't too many memories that lingered, only particles of which gave Warwick a joyous emotion when revisiting them. 

He thought of the black and white horned one that upset his sister, they were of a mixture. White and black. Sinner and ominous. If they were a mirror of both things menacing, then Warwick would make his own mind up about them, despite what his mother explained.

'There was a horned one not long ago. It upset Vermillion...', he became pensive, embodying the same moment he felt that chill writhe up his spine when laying eyes upon the sinful looking creature, 'and they were of both white and black. There was something not right about them though', perhaps he was wrong to be judgmental of them, but the scenario depicted differently, 'I think they were bad. They have not been back since'. 

He hoped his mother would not scold him for not sharing such information earlier, but the doe seemed to have listened to the dukes' forbade and had not returned.

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She did wonder when her young would bring up the male elk. She had watched within a distance, to her daughters woes and her son coming forth to protect his sister.. How she watched that very deer disappear, and all the way to the reclaimed roots. How she fought something that seemed to try and intimate a wolf itself, despite herbivore coming through. She still remembered seeing a dead wolf being eaten by it — and did wonder, what happened to them?

Celnes toyed with telling him she took care of it ; and yet her daughter was given a comfort to such a strange, and deadly being. She didn't like such a creature interfering with her kin, and yet couldn't deny it brought her some hope that hadn't been there since birthright of Vermillion. Her tail lightly tucked to her side, a moments of silence as she listened, debating the cons and pros..

"You should trust what your heart feels. Sometimes we can never truly know if someone has fallen into the dark. Trust, what you feel, and observe, to know if it's true. As we are mortal, we can make mistakes. I have had the wrong judgement many times, both where judged to harshly, and other times led to betrayel. It is part of living."

Would they remember, her cousin and his followers? If he did not remember Vaskian, she would hope his memories of them were little, to non-existent. So far though, there was no other issues to those who did complete betrayal. Remus, thought not loyal — wasn't such a bastard to throw her to the brimstone in a vengeance of unknown origins.

"Perhaps he was someone to test your beliefs. Test who you are.. Maybe one day, you'll see him again."

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The duke trusted his heart, but could not let the feeling subside that he was perhaps wrong to judge so promptly. A lesson learnt, later on, would be there were two sides to every story, but from his perspective that day, the sinister-looking creature was one he would not wish to encounter soon to relive a second chance. 

'It's all very confusing. The High Elk guides us in one way, but we still need to make our own judgments...', he trailed off, his eyes sliding past his dam and back onto the frozen lake, pensively. 

He drew out a deep sigh, loud enough to not need the production of words by how bothered he was by this. Life just didn't seem simple, even with their Patron watching over them and leaving cookie crumbs as an unstable guide. 

He thought back to that day, of Vermillion's upset, followed by her raising certain concerns to him confidentially only recently, so he used this opportunity to air a question that could in the future aid him in convincing his sister she was far from being correct.

'Mother, do you judge each of us... differently?', a side-eye watched her subtly for her reaction to his sudden question. Hoping she understood he meant them as siblings, but perhaps with him being relatively vague, this would trip her up in her guilt.

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"If we always relied on the High Elk, what would that make us? We would not have our own thoughts, only following Him." It was perhaps a good reason that Celnes often toyed and messed with the religion, twisting it how she so saw, despite holding beliefs, and disbeliefs. Many were but toys to the High Elk, that she tried to manipulate, and yet at the same time knew within her heart.. That she did belief, but she had her own opinions like every one does. Her concept of the High Elk was not an all-being to constantly praise, but a guidance to their own heart, "someone to believe in, when all is lost. A shine in the dark, but not the north star to constantly follow, but a guide in life." 

She wondered how Calhoun, would say. Would her son, who is becoming like him everyday, voice his thoughts?

Then a question came to be; how she treated them all. Celnes.. Had some favoritism. Warwick, obviously so was amongst them alongside Edith, often the two, who are the eldest were within her favor. There was no denial a distance between the rest, that though improved over time (in her opinion), it still was there. Especially the duplicates of her cousins, that almost seemed like karma itself.

But Celnes is a liar, and a manipulator. She is a hypocrite, above all else.

"Though my own qualms came to when you were all born, it changed when becoming a mother," there was no guilt to speak of, "you are all special in your own case, and all need different types of teachings. Would the softness work Calhoun, the same way it worked on Melrose of Vermillion?" some needed more attention, to be warped to a more desirable heir, to have more loyalty to herself.. 

To grow stronger. Some, wouldn't be able to harness that power.. As she thought of Melrose, Aldritch, Maral and even Vermillion. Though at the very least, Melrose has been gradually getting more healthy.

"I love and cherish you all." Which was true, just the levels that it brought were different to each child.

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How his mother knew their religion in and out so well. He wondered of other Deorwine matriarchs, and if they too shared the same thoughts as he now listened to. Whilst his queen gnarled the storytelling to her advantage - perhaps -, the duke had already made up his mind with his judgements. He kept these thoughts retained in the silent realm of his mind. Humming and nodding as they continued on.

Warwicks' eyes analysed his mother's sculpture upon her answering his awkward question; and the grace she always held, fractured in the faintest that he picked up on. There was truth to her words, but something bitter knocked on his conscious that made him question her validity. 

Maybe Vermillion was right.

A different bitterness now clenched its teeth around him and was reminded of the cold that he had been sitting in for too long now, using this as a distraction to come away from his mothers' manipulative truth. He shivered slightly. Smiling first to not let his mother believe anything different from him, though his sincerity was pure.

'I love you too Mother', an innocent look peeked up to her. 

'I think I better head back to our den now. I'm feeling the cold', he announced to her, hoping she did not see through him. And he turned to walk either with or without her.

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If the matriarchs looked at her now — there would be disapproval for her actions. Not only twisting the religion to a way she saw more fit, but how she made Elkshire as a whole. Allowing the sinful wolves to set through, and even had deer who held white.. Not to mention her children, who were born out of wedlock. Not something that truly was touched upon too much nor' judged, but as a royal heir, and especially as the Queen of this land, would there be judgement. But if they were around.. She wouldn't hold such a title, much less the original King role.

She was somewhat glad those elders perished in the fire. Alongside of the bones she buried of her dearest uncle.

After he seemed satisfied with his questions, she smiled and nodded, "be well," she said to Warwick as he left. Though it did bring a wonder.. If she perhaps raised him too loved. In that sense if someone with a devious heart would manipulate her dearest child. Time could only tell though, if he was kind with knowledge, or kindness with foolery.

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