The Wolf and the Wanderer: Sndbox Summer Camp Writing - Task 2

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It was a starry night, the sky resembling a canvas uniformly painted by an endless number of flashing points as far as Grioghar's view could reach, and what had brought him here was one of those. He walked with disdain for the flowers near the river, trying to ignore them but without much success in the attempt, well he had heard that the flowers that grow in the kingdom of Ulster were the most beautiful in all of Ireland and that it was almost impossible to not fall into the dangerous charm of the dryads that protect them very close, and although it took a few minutes and even dug in search of its petals as a desperate attempt to desecrate, even so Grioghar didn’t see any of the blessed dryads, –or it is that the dryads don’t want to see me, or possibly it is just another one of the myths invented by the town’s wet-nurses –he thought. After contemplation, Grioghar continued to enter the silent forest, he has heard a rumor (and this time, this didn’t come from any wet-nurse of doubtful credibility, but words written by the always graced by Ariadne and Great Druid of Ulster, Laogharie the Dawning Wanderer): a completely absurd object linked to the promise of fame and glory. Although getting hold of this object would record his name in history as someone famous, he couldn’t care less about it. He was a man particularly different from the rest of the kingdom, just seeking to satisfy his curiosity.

He walks in the twilight tree, placing the palm of his hand on the handle of his “Everlasting Moonlight” dagger in his belt. Grioghar listen to a tumult in the distance. Look over his shoulder to the right. His senses hardened in countless battles sharpened. He hears a set of howls that showed that it was a considerable pack of wolves. He draws his dagger at the same time he starts moving: vertiginously and with great dexterity, but, stealthily and crouched, he takes almost soundless steps and hides behind a fallen ash tree. Intuitively, he takes the veal meat that he carried on his back and throws it away. A few seconds later, canine figures appear among some trees; they immediately focused on the flesh and rampaged toward it. They were dark fangs dire wolves; beasts that were at the pinnacle of night hunters. Their skins and rare ebon fangs could be sold at a very good price, however, Grioghar had special respect for these creatures; since he had some experience, he felt identified with the wolf, perhaps linked. Besides, it was a pack; he decided that the most sensible thing to do was to wait until they were gone. All the dire wolves were devouring the flesh, except one: this had a peculiar second tail that made it stand out from the others. Grioghar observes the wolf curiously, and notices that he also has a serpentine scar between the snout and his left eye.

He moved even closer, approaching an immense tree full of mosses, as he rested with his bare fist in the darkness that dominated the grove, he noticed the imposing and magnanimous presence of the alpha dire wolf, but the wolf also noticed of his presence and therefore made a slow motion that fastly alerted an expert fence like Grioghar, almost to the immediacy of the immense wolf turning his head completely towards Grioghar, the wolf pack stopped eating the succulent feast: many dryads, made pieces of meat, certainly they functioned perfectly like the strong dish of the night. Grioghar leans his legs on a mound of stones and jumps to a branch of the tree, climbs the tree vertiginously but a wolf with a leap approaches in his direction, Grioghar quickly grabs a rope with a hook that removes as it can from his vest leather; he throws it with skill and manages to hook through the embranchment of other tree. Grioghar secures the rope to his belt; making a knot quickly; deploying dexterity with the hand. He muses a few words in Celtic and makes a motion with his free hand to then snap his fingers, conjuring up an ancient druid enchantment of light and wind, the thunderous wave of sound sweeps the she-wolf backwards, stunning it for a couple of seconds, On the other hand, the imposing light that accompanied the sound manages to partially blind the she-wolf.

The she-wolf loon falls to the ground, but a wolf was climbing the trunk, so Grioghar takes the rope and lets it swing towards the adjacent tree, but not before the dire wolf reached it with a claw that pierces the vest leather and leaves three shallow cuts on one side. Grioghar lets out a moan. Having reached the highest point of the pendulum represented by the branch, the rope and his body, Grioghar takes out his trusty dagger and sticks it into the trunk that is right in front of him. He holds himself with reluctance while watching the hopeless panorama below. The dire wolves try to climb the trunk, but being too smooth, they fail in the attempt. Grioghar spends more than forty minutes waiting, but the wolves continue tearing the tree, which already begins to succumb to the punishment of beasts of such proportions. The situation persists and that leads Grioghar to make a desperate decision: he starts to sing songs and he lets himself fall into the void with the palm of his right hand open towards the floor, when he hits the ground with it, white smoke curtains are erected obstructing the vision of the pack of dire wolves, Grioghar takes advantage of the small moment to take a vial with a transparent liquid and sprayed it on the body as fast as he could, and then he runs, the potion was to neutralize its smell. Grioghar moves so far away from the herd that he arrives at what appears to be an immense swamp in the middle of the forest that encompasses his whole range of vision, the fetid smell of the swampy waters remains permeated in Grioghar's nostrils, and then he sees some volatile and strange elemental lights that more than just fireflies seem to evoke the conspicuous wisps. Grioghar is about to cross the confines of the swamp, but he quickly becomes aware of some horrendous and disgusting leeches of considerable size that drain their energy as if it were a light liquid. And indeed they were sucking their blood to a great extent. Grioghar carefully removes them to avoid blood loss.

When Grioghar believed that the endless passage through the swamp would extend infinitely, he pushed aside some last brush and the landscape changed suddenly. He finds himself swimming in a clear of sublime and even ineffable beauty, he swims in the lagoon, and the he observes that along the length and width of its banks were different types of fluorescent mushrooms that pleasantly surprised Grioghar for his exoticism, he goes deeper and manages to reach land. In front of him another forest extends and decides to venture into it. He walks a few meters when an immense dire wolf catches him by surprise and attacks him, turning him towards the shore, rolling about two meters and then Grioghar manages to get up. Grioghar begins to consider the possibility that the wolf hasn’t wanted to kill him, but in the same way he unsheathes his dagger and puts himself on guard, the wolf attacks Grioghar with a calm rhythm. The wolf claws with his left leg, Grioghar elusive rolling on the ground raising some dust, then the dire wolf opens its jaws showing its outstanding fangs dyed ebony and rushing back to him, Grioghar tries to block the fangs of the wolf; holding the dagger with the width of the blade horizontally, the dagger is locked between the fangs producing a fleeting flash in the rose. It was the inherent magic contained in the fangs of those creatures. Grioghar kicks the wolf with the intention of putting some distance between them; the wolf releases the steel from his fangs and backs down. Grioghar looks out of the corner of his eye Everlasting Moonlight edge, it has been overshadowed by contact with the dark magic of the beast. The giant dire wolf remained inert for a second, observing Grioghar with his enigmatic reddish eyes; the wolf begins to howl repeatedly, beginning the call of the herd.

The wolves congregate in the place a few moments later, then surprisingly the alpha wolf says: "It’s quite evident to me that the Void Shine is not meant for you, you’re not the one that was foretold by our Lord Lug, you have much to see and demonstrate to get away from your mundanity".

An incandescent halo surrounded the wolf, the eyes of Grioghar are witnesses of how the wolf changes shape for every second that passes, acquiring known forms and more delicate features, the wolf incorporates and completes its transformation, the naked body of a common human is what Grioghar manages to visualize: red hair, leafy beard, with a squalid figure and that couldn’t be more different if he compares him to that great and fearsome beast, –a guy of some 40 years old or that’s how he looks like –thinks Grioghar.

"A druid, I suppose... But who are you? It's something that I've been asking myself since I saw those red eyes that are so expressive; Seeing your tunics, there’s no doubt that you’re not from Laoghaire's creed, so tell me, who do you serve?”

"I don't serve any mundane being, but the artisan one.

”... And with artisan, who do you mean?

"Your ignorance precedes you… I see that you’re not a believer of the old ways... I only serve who was involved in the creation itself, Lug.

"Well, yes... I’m afraid that I am not very attached to the traditions, they have always reproached me, but in the end, let's get back to the point, who are you? I guess you’ve got to have a name.

"My name is totally irrelevant for the higher purposes that were conceived to me after becoming a servant of Lug, but if you want so much to know my mundane name, that’s Duayne, but you can call me “moon breeze” too.

"Answer me one thing," Grioghar asks as he squints and continues "is it true that this treasure is a star that I keep silent from heaven, and that it shines more than the flame of a thousand candles?.

Duayne turns his back and goes back into the grove, the wolves follow him as if they were his subjects, but Grioghar knew that those do are dire wolves with shadow fangs and weren’t other druids, he had enough to analyze the instinctive behavior of the same. Duayne makes them walk in circles while walking through the forest with their eyes closed, as if searching for something without really wanting to find it, but that was the way for the druids to concentrate on listening to all the sounds of the forest and getting in touch with nature, as well it's like Duayne listens to the wounded she-wolf crying out in the distance, he runs to his aid, because he knew that if he didn’t hurry, the she-wolf would die under the darkness of that oak, without any of its brothers and sisters nearby to give it tranquility and shelter while waiting for a sudden death.

When they reach where the wounded she-wolf lay, they hear the sobbing howls that show the animal's suffering and restlessness. That's when Grioghar watches as Duayne hurries up and then cradles the she-wolf's head in his arms, giving it peace and tranquility, after a couple of seconds, the contusions and bruises of the she-wolf begin to heal gradually, the calm he reigned in the she-wolf and its suffering ended.

The druid incorporates after seeing the wolf appeased with its magic of natural restoration. He glanced at Grioghar who remained a curious expectant behind the circle that had formed the herd.

"That dagger of yours is quite curious, of a special material as I see it; it resisted the corrosion of the shadows of my fangs. It could be a weapon comparable to the Gae Bolg of the hero Cuchulainn"

"It's a relic I got on one of my trips"

"I propose something to you," Duayne says as he strokes his beard. "I'm willing to give you the Void Shine, if you're willing to escort me to where I'm heading"

Grioghar looks into his eyes, then takes his dagger in hand and intends to do a few maneuvers deploying his skill with the weapon.

"That confirms my suspicions; you are the guardian of that treasure," Grioghar says as he holsters his dagger. "Sounds good, but I sense that there is a trick involved in that agreement of yours.

"No tricks. Only a promise to fulfill, if you fulfill your part.

"Ok, I'll go with you.

They spent long days scouring the dense woods of Northern Ireland until they reached the circle of Cromiech Stones in Beltany. Certainly Grioghar didn’t travel so much land since he walked for more than a month from the wild Highlands of Scotland to the warm and much more southern lands of England, he was very exhausted, of course, but at the same time very fascinated to see as the druids danced around the monoliths, the women looked like golden and silver spikes that danced in the wind, while the men were far more visceral, they galloped from one side to the other while they were transformed of different wild animals. Laogharie, a maiden with extremely pale skin, gray eyes and some 18 years, pleasantly surprised Grioghar by dancing with much more ecstasy and fervor than the other girls, her rebellious hair were adorned by the most beautiful flowers: tulips, daffodils and orchids , flowers that Grioghar didn’t even know (let alone knew what exotic places the enigmatic woman would have picked up), but that woman treasured and carried in her head with total security as if they were the most conspicuous flowers of the kingdom. Grioghar watched with vivid curiosity how that woman seemed to stand out among all others, even being treated with veneration by them, but still did not know who or what it was, its beauty, so sublime and ineffable, clearly captivated him and even generated some lasciviousness , but Duayne decides to interrupt Grioghar.

"Laoghaire the Dawning Wanderer, the Great Druid of Ulster... No one can resist her beauty, grace and charm. She only appears once a year, on the day before the winter solstice, to bless all the subjects and believers who travel from all over Ireland to these sacred monoliths only to contact the closest human to the Moon Goddess, after the winter solstice, Laoghaire reunites with the dryads in the depth of the forest, that forest that has not even been touched by the human hands.

Grioghar knew the name, but like many of the vile mundanes of this world, he had never seen Laoghaire in person, no doubt he thought that it was certainly much more impressive and magnificent than what the legends told.

<p`>"I don’t blame them, just watching her dance makes me want to become an Ariadne believer.

The ritual culminated with the departure of the dawn, Laoghaire and her acolytes left Cromiech, leaving alone Grioghar, Duayne and the wolf pack. Duayne breaks the silence to start his own affairs, takes from his bag a transparent splinter with a kind of gray gelatinous substance inside, Grioghar shrugs.

"Here is the void shine," Duayne asserts.

“A simple quartz? Is this serious?” Grioghar replies.

"Nature is changing and contradictory in the strangest ways, never underestimate it, Grioghar.

"And what am I supposed to do with this kind of object with no apparent functionality?

"Well, you just have to pierce your heart with it...

At first Grioghar supposes that Duayne is just kidding him, but seeing the frown on his face, it’s quite clear that he’s speaking very seriously.

"I would only accept it if you assure me that I won’t die in the attempt. I know that I can blindly trust the word of a druid, after all, you are promoters of life, are not you?

"I'm sorry, but in this particular case. I'm afraid I cannot guarantee anything. This is unknown territory even for me. In addition, druids cannot safeguard the life of those who risk it to get a prize that goes beyond our limited understanding. It is your decision to do it or to not do it.

He holds the splinter with his hand, staring at it for a few seconds. Grioghar takes a deep breath, holds it and then lets it out in a long sigh. He shrugs and then pulls out a canteen with an aged and exclusive Scotch whiskey that he stole from one of the strongholds of a powerful clan when he was traveling through the Scottish highlands, for that bottle he received 31 lashes that he still remembers with pain, even now, but fortunately he was able to keep some of that delicious whiskey in his trusty canteen. Grioghar draws a strong drink and takes the time to enjoy the unmistakable flavor as it should be, for him is very clear that he must taste every drop of that drink, since this time it is not one of those bottled piss that so abounded in the taverns of the common, this is a scotch whiskey of the highest quality, you should enjoy it every second as if it were the last, and Grioghar knows that it can be the last. After a few seconds, you can say that you feel confident enough, agreeable and uninhibited to even tear your heart out with a splinter.

He squeezes the splinter between his fingers in such a way that even deep cuts were made in his fingers, the blood was already running through the splinter, painting its shapes little by little bloody red. Grioghar lets out a moan and then, with all his strength, then he pierces the splinter in his chest, feels a fleeting pain that interspersed with a warm feeling in the heart, but in the immediacy all sensation is extinguished and everything, from his body to his surroundings, he stops suddenly, except his thoughts, which are the only ones that guarantee him that he’s still alive. The splinter was still there, stained with blood but without a drop fluttering from it. Gradually, Grioghar was regaining his mobility, but everything else was inert, less something, that translucent cloud on his right.

"I'm Lug, the artisan. I will give you a five-minute audience, time proportional to your resolution at the moment of discarding your own heart for satisfying your own curiosity,” Then the figure becomes clear and takes a more solid form. "Now time is running.

Grioghar raises an eyebrow, the idea of having an audience with a god tempts him. Then proceed and adventure with a question.

"I've always wondered: Do the Gods shit?"

An uncomfortable silence takes over the timeless space, after a few seconds Lug smiles and lets out a snort.

"In the flow of the finite eternity of our existence in this static plane, eventually inaction and neutrality take us, making use of our power, to realize different types of superfluous needs inherently related to the trivialities of a worldly life. Shit has not been the exception.

"I always imagined it

"Do the Gods die?” Grioghar says as he grimaces.

"The Gods are eternal; our only death is, in a figurative sense, the insignificance. Few Gods have survived through the annals of time, the only incentive in our everlasting existence in this utopian plane is the maintenance of our legacy, when it ceases to influence, and our whole raison d'etre as Gods becomes something absurd,” After saying this Lug approaches Grioghar and puts two fingers in front of his face. "Your time to ask questions ran out, now I will give you something from my divine perspective, and then you will pay the fee.

A flash is fired from Lug's fingertip and Grioghar's consciousness is released from his body. This is dismissed at a ridiculous speed that it seemed to Grioghar that if he had a physical body his body would’ve fallen apart. In his fleeting journey, Grioghar witnesses different scenarios, some are so far from what he knows that they are totally foreign to him: a rainy battlefield in which iron beasts fire from long pipes and destroy buildings that stood much higher than the largest building I've seen in Ulster, another place where the sky was tinged with intense gold and buildings stretched over clouds, another time was in the middle of an immeasurable void accompanied by absolute darkness and in the vicinity of him; a monster like he’s never seen, in its center he could see how a beam of light was swallowed in a kind of swirling darkness that did not allow anything to escape from the embrace...

Grioghar woke up, felt particularly different from other awakenings. He sat up and noticed it immediately, standing on all fours. He ran hastily, galloping through the forest looking for a surface of water where he could see his reflection. He gets to the clearing of the other night and then he stares as if It were a mirror. Suddenly he understood it all at once. He had become an agent in Lug's service in exchange for the information he received. He concentrates and focuses on the image of the human form to which he was accustomed. A flashing halo is generated through his body and a few seconds later he returns to his human form. He felt different beyond having received those revelations and the ability to change form. His resolution had never been clearer; there were things to do, objectives to fulfill, a mission to carry out. He spots his clothes next to a tree; the dagger was stuck in the soft earth. He dresses, puts his dagger on his belt and makes a new journey on his way.

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