A Wolf's Woes

"Bludmont!?"

Cuu was a bit sad to see the "Winkie" feline scurry off after Dorothy shouted in surprise; more-so that the woman's Elder had been so blatant with using that name. However, this was still the first time someone had even been able to, and tried, to comfort him about his father's ****.

He smiled all the same, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you, Elder."

"W-we're not just skipping over that, are we?!" Dorothy stuttered, rising from her chair and staring at her patient. "Bludmont, as, the Percival Bludmont?! The Red Knight of the original King's Knights!?"

"And?" Cuu tilted his head, looking to Dorothy. "He was my father. I don't see why you're screaming."

"But... but..." Dorothy backs into a wall, sliding down it as she begins to sit on the floor. "He would be thousands of years old. Older than Ozon. Older than Roundtable. Older than Grimmarchen itself."

"He was." Said Theodora, pulling her granddaughter back up to her feet. "I ran into him as a young woman; a few years after I met your Grandfather. He was hunting for The Wolf at the time, Minse Mensh. He looked no older than forty."

Dorothy is guided back to her seat. "How could someone live that long?"

"He never told me." Cuu said; his doctor suddenly remembering that he was there. "Not that it matters."

"He's dead now, either way."

...

Dorothy felt awful; having just freaked out over a name, all while Cuu was clearly still mourning his father. She couldn't help it! Percival Bludmont; The Red Knight. The one who had been serving every King since the original; back in the Times of Tales. Now, Cuu was giving her an ugly look; although, it was hard to distinguish that from his usual resting-grimace.

"I'm sorry, Mister Cuu." She looks to the floor as she speaks. "I got caught up in the moment; I didn't think about how you were feeling."

"At least you didn't call me Mister Bludmont." The Wolf said, chuckling breathlessly. "I don't deserve that name. Not yet."

Dorothy wasn't sure what he meant by that, but accepted it none the less; asking. "Well, how did this happen? I thought you were exiled by your father; how could you have seen his-"

"Because, I forgot Bobo." Cuu said, pawing at the back is head. "I went back to ask for him. There, I saw it."

"I saw it all-"

...

He saw it all that night. Loyalty and betrayal. Thunder and the rain. A warrior, and a father.

Cuu pulled the multi-colored hood over his ears, keeping his tail tucked beneath his cloak; wrapped around his leg. He entered the town of Avalon, with its high walls meaning little to one who could claw their way up the stone. Down in the town square, the bright, beautiful lights of his people shone like thousands of stars. There, his old friend waited; likely tucked away under his bed.

He leapt from the walls, to the rooftops. Gracefully bolting from one place, to another; just as he would during training. He finally slid down to an alleyway, just out of sight of the streets. He could hear it; the cheering, the song, and the dancing! The entire town was engrossed by The Great Caravan's wonder. A perfect time to-

All is silenced as a bolt of lightning strikes the Watcher's Tower. What was once a cloudy night, had become a thunderstorm in a matter of seconds. It was unnatural; and clear signs of a Tale. Peeking from the alleyway, he saw the carts and wagons of his people quickly fleeing from the center of town. It wasn't long before there was only one thing left in the wide, open square; aside from the occasional litter.

Cuu's home; the cabin-wagon he had been born in.

Sitting on the steps that lead up to the door was a figure, cloaked in red. Cuu was confused, as the horses; Clopper and Stink, had been seemingly release, or otherwise sent off. The Wolf was about to rush to his father, to ask for the return of his stuffed bear. A loud, crashing explosion made him think otherwise; he darts behind a rubbish barrel, staring at the scene playing out before him.

Ten new figures appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Seven of them were adorned with a different color. Each bore their own adornments, be it armor, cloaks, or robes. An old man, carrying a glorious, golden blade, moves forward; followed by a young woman, white of hair.

"Percival." Said The King; loud enough for Cuu's ears to hear.

His father nods, speaking as he always had; in a gentle, wispy voice. "Yes, old friend?"

"It has been many decades, has it not; since your last hunt." The old man adjusts his sword in his hand; Cuu wondered if he could even lift it, withered as he was.

"Yes. My last hunt." His father stands, reaching for something he had been sitting on, and something had been sitting beside.

In one hand, he held Bobo; that most sacred of treasures to him, and to Cuu. In the other, was a familiar sight. Usually, it was wrapped in cloth; hidden in the wagons boarding. A massive, near-man sized heft of rusting iron; a blunted, ancient sword. His father's sword; the one that had lasted longer than entire civilizations. Despite it's size, his father lifted it like paper.

"You know where The Wolf is-" Said the man adorned by orange markings; his short-handled hammer crackling with power. "And we even have him; The Hunter. On our side!"

A young man in chain-mail, hiding behind a woman draped in red, steps forward. "H-hello, Sir Bludmont."

A rusted iron mass slammed into the stone of the town center; the ground beneath Cuu shook. "I said... no Hunter. I've always said, no Hunter. Besides; I'm retired."

The young woman with white hair steps forward. "Its your child, isn't it. Even with that curse, you went and-"

"Malika!" The old, withered man shouted; a voice far too strong for one seeming so weak. "We are not here to insult the man!"

"She's right."

Cuu stared in awe of his father, whose amber eyes met his own. The ancient warrior pulled down his red hood, which pulled free of his body; flying off in the wind, and revealing the armor underneath. Percival's black hair fell to his shoulders, with hints of grey only found in the scruff upon his face. He stood tall, as all the men of old did; a giant.

"The Wolf is my son-" Said Percival. "-but I will not lose him to The Wolf; not like the children before him. I raised him well; to resist his rage. To persist, to live a long life, and to keep The Wolf inside. I'd wager that buys you another sum seventy or eighty years to prepare for the next one."

No words were exchanged past this point; only blows.

The man in orange charged forth, whirling him hammer around, and calling forth a bolt of lightning from the sky. The bolt struck where Cuu's father once stood, but in the blink of an eye, he had already closed the distance between himself and the lightning caller. The flat end of his enormous blade bashed straight into the man's skull, sending him flying away; a distant crash echoing near the entrance of town.

Before the woman in red could react, Percival was already behind her; grabbing the back of her head, and smashing it into the ground. He pulls up the concussed woman; a layer of hardened ash falling from her face as he cast her aside. The woman in yellow, with the ears of a rabbit protruding from head; bounds away quickly, pulling vial from her silken robe.

With a second swing, the man in pink is split in half. No blood gushes, nor do guts explode from the wound. Instead the man's upper half pulls the bow from his back, and plops down onto it's lower counterpart. He fires several arrows, three of which are deflected by armor. One lands, sticking into his Father's leg, just below the knee. A third swing causes another split, this time removing the man's arms; taking advantage, Percival slams his fist into the bow itself; shattering it to pieces.

He grabs the throat of the man in pink, and slams him repeatedly into the stone; like a savage beast cracking open a tough nut. An emerald-hue shard of ice lands into the back of his calf; the same leg as before. His father buckles slightly, spinning around, aiming a deadly blow at the man in green; only for a pillar of emerald ice to stop the blow in its tracks.

Appearing from seemingly nowhere, above his father's sword arm, is a woman in blue growing several times larger than any man Cuu had seen; slamming her elbow down into Percival's own. There is a loud snapping noise, and his father staggers away from his blade; sword arm limp at his side. The massive man in purple seizes the chance, and lands a wicked punch into father's face; sending him rolling across the ground. He ends his sprawl, slamming into the cart that was his home; he stands, shaken, as blood began streaming from his forehead, with Bobo still held tight in his other hand.

When a golden blade pierces his heart.

Cuu had to bite his own arm to keep himself from screaming; to keep himself from charging ahead, trying to rip that withered old man's head clean off his neck. Blood seeped down Cuu's arm, lips, and chin. His father did not seem shocked, nor afraid. He loosened his grip on Bobo, and smiled; arching his good arm around, as if hugging the air. He speaks his final words; in that same gentle, wispy voice.

"I lived as a warrior; I die as a father."

His father's body began to turn grey, as he turned from flesh; to stone. The wounded and dazed murderers gather themselves, with the woman in yellow being the only one not present. The withered old man pulls at the sword in his father's stone chest, struggling; unable to pry it free. He is struck from behind, and the woman with white hair takes hold of the sword; and pulls it cleanly from the statue his father had become, cracking the wound.

"Your time is over, grandfather." Says Malika, the new King. "Get yourself prepared! We know what The Wolf will look like! Secure The Hood!"

The Knights of Roundtable, and the Hunter squire, look on in confused awe. Cuu did not know what happened next, as a vial smashed beside him; filling his nostrils with a flowery smell. He staggers further into the alley as his body begins to slow. The woman in yellow lands next to him, as he turns the corner; hidden from view.

"Consider this a debt paid, Wolf." Said the thick accented voice of the rabbit woman. "You owe your father your life, now. As did I. Do not waste it."

Cuu awoke in that alley, with the morning sun beaming down on his soaking wet body. He staggers to his feet, his stomach growling for food. He quickly scampers down the alleyway, seeing a crowd had formed around a certain statue. They were his people, in their colorful attires, honoring one of their own. The cart was gone. Bruno had likely taken it; Cuu's god-father was resourceful like that.

He pulls his hood down tight, and moves through the crowd; recognizing a few of them. Darrin, the Hunter who had offered he and his father a chance to hunt a boar when he was ten. Molly, the kindly old woman who had taught him how to count, although, his father forbade her from teaching him to read. Kos, who was his age; a bully, when Cuu was growing up. He was straightened out by a silent threat by Cuu's Father. Finally, he reaches the front of the crowd.

His father, chest cracked where the blade had pierced him, was largely untouched. Flowers were placed at his feet, and a wreath had been placed on his head. Cuu pulls his hood away, and none say a word as he approaches his father. He leans under the outstretched arm, and embraces the statue. Now he knew why his father had arched it the way he had...

To hold him, one last time.

Cuu leaves the embrace, as he fears he may lose himself in it; tears mixing with the rainwater still drenching his face. He takes the soaked bear from his father's hand, and places it into his pack.

...

Dorothy stopped Cuu from continuing his story. She had placed a hand on his shoulder; seeing his eyes watering, and hearing his voice give out. There was another reason she wanted it to stop; one that was dress in green, and summoned emerald ice with but a thought. That reason was hers to keep, however.

"Mister Cuu, you don't have to continue." She says, rubbing his back with her other hand.

He turns, looking up at her. "That... that damned Hood. If he had it, he would have lived. It left him to die!"

"Percy asked me to leave." The Hood whispered in her ear. "I... I didn't want to. He said it wouldn't matter either way; that they'd capture me if I stayed."

"It says-"

"I don't care what it says!"

Cuu shot upward, his eyes flaring to a blood-red hue; his voice turning beastly. "I'm taking a walk."

The Wolf rushes out of the charred-black cabin, and Dorothy is left feeling a well of guilt flood her heart. She saw it in her minds eyes; as vivid as her fantasies. She saw the green finery, the spectacles, and the white gloves. The same white hair that all native to Ozon tend towards, with that pointed beard. Her memories of green snow replaced with bloodied spikes of ice, indistinguishable from emerald gemstones.

In her minds eye, she sees the Knight of Ozon. She sees The Wise Wizard. She sees one of these Murderers.

She sees her Father.