The Return (Lazarus x Robin x Raghaalr) by Wildfire-Tama on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

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Published: May 28, 2018

Literature Text

It had been a long and grueling walk home for Lazarus, especially at first. Though each day the pain in his side grew less and less, and their pace was able to quicken but just a bit more. Still, no doubt he would have been finished without his new companion, Robin. The little she-wolf had been, and continued to be, the provider for the team; catching them food and finding the best way onward aside from his knowledge of the right general direction. Lazarus had grown very fond of her, in fact, and would be eternally grateful for her selflessness. And not just when it came to the logistics of survival either… he had found a true friend in Robin. She wasn’t afraid to challenge him, to offer him shrewd advice, to remind him of when he was being stupid, and help him figure out this whole mess that his life had become. She was the one who would bring him back home, in more ways than one.

Together they walked on until one morning Lazarus finally spotted the familiar jagged mountains that bordered his home, their peaks hazy and silver in the early light. He turned to Robin with an excited smile. “There’s the mountains, see? That means we are very close! The tallest one way in the distance, that’s called Adamant Peak. It’s sacred. Or maybe that was the snowy one? I dunno,” he shrugged and turned back forward, his eyes fixed on the tall mountain and his smile faded. He was excited to be home, he never thought he’d see it again. There it is… right there… hmm... Fear had been a constant companion on this journey home, but suddenly his belly exploded in butterflies. He felt anxious and sick and he stopped right in his tracks. “You know, Robin, maybe we should camp here and get to Aryn tomorrow. It might be sunset by the time we reach the border, or close to it, and I dunno… I dunno if that might be a bad time, what with the, uh, the patrols would all home for dinner and stuff...” He looked around, already busying himself with the search for a place to ‘rest’.

Robin was already in higher spirits than usual. When Lazarus announced that they were close, she searched the horizon for the peak of which he spoke, Adamant Peak, but quickly lost it when he admitted his uncertainty of its hallowed standing. “Pfffhahahaha!” Had she been a religious wolf herself, her reaction may have been different, but his apparent sacrilege was something she related to. She had more in common with Lazarus than any wolf she’d ever met. It was an absolute breath of fresh air.

She smiled as she held him in her eyes before stepping up onto a felled tree for a better view. ...Of the mountains, of course. A deep breath escaped the small wolf as she took a moment for herself. She had started to realize that staring at him for too long made her feel peculiar, like she never wanted to stop smiling. She had felt as much when she shared with him the tale of her exodus to Heyl, for a ‘cure’ to her redness that she was ‘plagued’ with since birth. He did laugh about it, as she knew anyone would, but she had been laughing too.

“But I guess some of my red has been fading lately,” she had shrugged while laying on her back, stretched out after a good laugh together. “I dunno,” she jested, “maybe there is a cure...” She sat up to deliver the punchline: “_Learn how not to be a total idiot!_” She fell over with laughter at her own joke, like a total idiot. It was a marvelous night.

Then, Laz proposed they call it a day. How could he not want to sprint home now that it was in view? (Granted, it was much too far for true sprinting.) Robin folded her ears back and turned to look at him pacing around nervously.

She frowned, knowing he was one to avoid conflict and bad feelings. But satiating his nerves by putting off the inevitable now would only exacerbate them later. They had to keep going. “You know what, while we’re at it, I could take you back to that cave I found you in and plug it back up with you inside,” the she-wolf quipped. “What, you think your family isn’t going to be happy to see you? _Alive?_”

Lazarus looked up at Robin hesitantly as she stood on a fallen tree, the sun making her desaturated fur shine. Without the red fur her bright honey-amber eyes stood out all the more. He noted for not the first time how strange it was that her fur was fading, he didn’t even know that was a thing! Not unless you were old. He had cracked that joke and gotten a good cuff on the head. She had been laughing too though, lucky for him. He knew it best not to piss off the only wolf standing between him and an untimely death. Robin’s spirits had been high for much of the journey, particularly because of her coat, a fact that was clarified to Lazarus when she explained her origins, and how much grief her bright red fur had caused her. Her happiness was infectious, and he found himself more at ease with her than he had been with anyone for a long long time. Finally he could smile and laugh and joke again, with someone who knew his sins and accepted him anyway. With her he could be himself again.

His tufted ears perked with hope as Robin began, sounding as if she was going to agree. Though he really should have known better by now if nothing else than by her tone, and his ears fell flat again with a sulky frown when she facetiously suggested returning him to his rocky prison.

When she went on to question his sudden cold feet he shrugged. He had been gone longer than he ought to have been, so surely they were at least starting to get worried. Those who thought him on a standard ranging anyway. “I… I guess I just…” he trailed off, biting his lip with a shrug. He looked back to Robin attentively when suddenly he had a new plan, “Do you think we could say that you found me near Fellfang? And it took so long because I had to recover a while… no one but Seven knows I ran away so I’d rather not… tell everyone.” Their pace had been slower because of his injury, after all, a bit of an exaggeration on that could explain away the time taken to travel the extra distance. In all honesty he hadn’t been planning to announce the truth of his mission to anyone anyway, he had made the right choice in the end so what was the harm? He paused as he realized a very real possibility, “Unless Seven told them already...” No, she promised she wouldn’t. But if she did then… well… would they be happy? An objective observer might still insist so, he had returned after all and he was family! But as the offender with so much on the line it was a lot harder for Lazarus to be so confident.

She padded over to sit beside him, patiently listening to his excuse. During their trip, Robin had come to be slightly more tolerant of the time Lazarus took to finally get the truth out, letting him arrive to it without her beating it out of him. She no longer felt the need to pressure him for honesty, only to remind him.

Her lip curled with distaste and confusion, but not at the black wolf’s excuse. “Fellfang?” Why the heck would any wolf ever want to go there? Robin remembered the name only from games the pups of Highvalley would play, a good old, homegrown version of Goodies and Baddies. The Goodies, played by most, were the heroic wolves of Highvalley. The Baddies always came from the place called Fellfang. None of them were old enough to fully understand the two packs’ histories with one another; they only clung to the notion that Fellfang was bad news, mister.

But what did that all matter out here? Maybe by daring to creep towards Fellfang, Lazarus might be hailed as a hero in his pack. The thought shrugged from her mind before she could consider that Aryn might be friendly with Fellfang. Her quizzical look lingered as she pieced the plot together in her own mind. It could work, she supposed.

“We’ll see,” she offered with an amicable smile. “You’ve probably been through enough as it is. And if Seven hasn’t already thrown you to the _wolves-_” (she snorted audibly,) “then I don’t see much harm in keeping your little rendezvous our - and Seven’s - little secret.”

She nudged his sunken chin upwards with her nose, a gesture her father often performed on her to remind her to stand up tall when she was feeling low. “Come on then, bucko. You ready?” Her enduring smile returned once again, and she hoped it was enough to assure him that his homecoming would be worth the trouble.

Lazarus looked over at Robin, a bit curious about her reaction to Fellfang. He had always thought Fellfang was cool. They had saved his brother Raphael after all. But then he recalled Moth, who had seemed utterly terrified of her own pack. Robin seemed to have a similarly unpleasant opinion. There must be something he didn’t know going on…

Though he was too wrapped up in himself right now to care enough to press her about it… he’d try to remember to ask her about it later. He looked at her apprehensively when she sat down beside him. He was relieved that she seemed to agree with his own opinion that he had been through enough. He nodded, “Thank you…” he said. It was a relief, but he knew as well as anyone that just because it may be unsaid, sadly it was still no less true.

He was surprised to feel a soft, warm muzzle beneath his own, nudging it up. His pale silver eyes flicked down to Robin, a genuine smile spreading over his muzzle. What would I do without you? He asked himself for probably the hundredth time. He bumped her head gently with his cheek in return and then got to his paws, trying to take courage. “Ready… let’s go!”

~~~~

It was late afternoon when the two crossed past the scent markers of Aryn territory. Lazarus felt a jolt of discomfort as they entered the familiar lands, like electricity tingling through his fur. He felt like an imposter, that he didn’t belong anymore, and his silver eyes darted around as if it was enemies that could find here and not his family. He wasn’t sure which he would rather see in truth. He gulped, glancing sideways over at Robin. “You think your family isn’t going to be happy to see you?” she had asked him earlier that day. Of course they will… I hope He tried to make himself calm down and looked back forward. Part of him still wished that they would never run into another wolf, leaving their only option to keep wandering indefinitely, At least I had tried to find them, he could insist to help him sleep at night. But he knew now that would never work, so most of him wished that someone would just appear, and get it all over with...

The air was brisk but a comfort, ruffling the Warden’s dark fur as she walked the familiar pathway near Aryn’s borders. The routine was so well embedded in her mind it was easy to pick out what was normal and what wasn’t. Of course, it was always changing; the growth of new leaves on the trees, the erosion of the hillsides by water or wind. Spring had fastened its grip on the landscape, fiercely bringing life back in its usual rush of smells and color. Soon the days would be too hot for the black she-wolf to weather, and she would shift to nocturnal patrols to avoid overheating.

She bent her head, gently brushing her snout against a swath of baby ferns, so delicate and soft. An almost nostalgic sensation prickled through her body. Her whiskers grazed the leaf-strewn soil before she lifted her head, shoulders rolling back. Her scarlet eyes surveyed the grassland to the east, confident and certain til she made out something amiss; two ashen specks against the sea of gold-green stalks. The instantaneous snarl that burst from her chest was something brought by Aryn’s recent troubles - a reaction she never would have given in the moons before.

Raghaalr lurched forwards, darkened figure pushing sharply through the grass. Her nose twitched furiously as she moved, claws thrusting into the soft soil and tearing up the poor greenery. As she drew closer she forced her fur to flatten back, her expression to work back to a suspicious frown rather than an open-mouthed growl. It was good she did so, actually. It was sight that told her first, not smell - the familiarity had been washed away by months of travel - but a heavy sniff brought it reeling back. The Warden slowed her steps, gaze widening in shock. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes; emotions surprisingly raw, as though he had been her own child.

Her gaze flicked across the second figure, an unfamiliar she-wolf, but she disregarded any threat on account of Lazarus. There was no surprise: of course he had made a friend, perhaps more. She lifted her head and a throaty awooo was brought from between scarred jaws. The One had guided one of their own back home: a blessing of good news that Aryn so desperately needed now.

“Lazarus!” The she-wolf cried out, no anger nor scolding in her voice, ready to wrap her head around his shoulders in a welcoming embrace.

Robin wanted to try her genuine best to be the chalice of courage Lazarus could siphon. If she expressed no fear, Laz wouldn’t have reason to either. But there was no mistaking the pins and needles that pricked her paw pads as they delved deeper and deeper into Aryn territory. She had grown to know Lazarus quite well over the previous long weeks, and practically reveled in her opportunity to help him in the many ways in which she was capable--at least she had early on in their journey. Now it overwhelmed her with quiet humility, a sense she had scarce experienced in her braggadocious life.

And now the thought of delivering Laz back to his pack, back to his family, back to his Seven crowded her mind. She wondered how tricky it would be to evade the tough questions about the Lost Boys’ whereabouts. What if she didn’t get along with them, any of them? What would they think of her? Before she could even expose the tangled, buzzing hive that was whether or not she would consider why she cared about these things, she put it to bed with the reminder that wolves were patrolling and they needed to remain vigilant.

Throughout all the wading in the sticky swamp of her mind, Robin was still able to put on the easygoing smile and keep her head arrogantly high - even in foreign territory - as she was wont to do. Until the black wolf of Aryn made herself known, Robin didn’t falter her step. But then the powerful, scar-worn wolf kept coming - and coming - and not looking particularly friendly or exactly glad to see them--! Robin looked from Lazarus to the stranger. She had stopped several paces short but couldn’t find the words to ask Lazarus if he knew her, if they would be safe. Then, to Robin’s chagrin, the other wolf’s demeanor suddenly changed as the skepticism on her face waned into hope, and then finally recognition. The Warden’s howl rang out and hit them head-on. Robin could tell it was one of relief and joy, but she wasn’t sure if she detected a note of lamentation as well. The Warden cried out his name, and Robin realized how not-ready she was to let go of him, to turn him over to wolves she knew nothing about. She exhaled a shaky breath and hung back, her feet suddenly turned to stone. Those widely-spaced ears folded back submissively, but her thick brows drew together in stern defiance: defenses up.

As he prowled beside Robin he couldn’t help but admire, and find amusement in, the fact that she strode down the path with her head high and a calm smile on her face. She was in a land she didn’t know full of wolves she had never met. But she was treating it more like home than he was. He was about to make some sort of quick witted joke on the subject, when suddenly a black shape appeared on sight.

Lazarus froze. “Black-Bear…” He recognized Raghaalr almost immediately, there was no other Aryn wolf like her. And while his heart flooded with nostalgia and love for this rugged guardian who he never thought he’d see again, he could see the stony intent with which she moved. She was not happy, and it made his heart sink hopelessly. Seven had told, hadn’t she? Raghaalr had been there all his life, a Warden for the pack, a close advisor to his parents, even his mentor in combat! She had always been stern but just and wise. For her to hate him and turn him away… he knew that would be a really rough bone to swallow. But she didn’t seem like she would attack… so at least they probably weren’t in danger. He looked at Robin, meeting her bright amber gaze, and gave her a determined nod. I’ve got this… The time had finally come. For better or worse, right or wrong, he was home.

Given their relationship, and the close-knit nature of their pack, Lazarus should have known that Raghaalr simply hadn’t recognized him yet. But still he was shocked when he focused back on Raghaalr and saw that everything had changed. Instead of the deliberate strides she had slowed in what seemed like bewilderment and let out a howl of greeting, and as she approached she called out his name, her emotion ringing clear in her voice. Lazarus was utterly taken aback, those feelings that had come when he first saw her returning with a brutal vengeance, and he felt his own eyes watering too.

Lazarus had never been emotional in the past, he would often respond in a bored or casual way when faced with sentiment. It just wasn't his thing. But that had changed. As he approached the Warden and saw her deep crimson eyes, the same as they had been for as long as he can remember, he felt so many emotions he never even knew existed. And for once he was willingly running toward them instead of away. He didn’t know whether he liked it or not… but onward he went regardless.

When the two dark wolves met Lazarus he pressed his face against her fur, his tail wagging. He had never embraced Raghaalr before, but he didn’t care how startlingly strange her thick black pelt felt when he was pressed into it. It was full of her scent, and Aryn’s scent, and the dark fur was dang near the best thing he had ever felt. The only vocal greeting he gave was in a trembling voice, with the weight of the world behind it, “Raghaalr. I never thought I’d see you again.”

He stayed there for a moment, literally immobilized by the hurt and love and guilt and relief and grief and joy all in one overwhelming whirlwind of confusion. It was only once he started to get a handle on himself did he remember that Robin was standing by, watching. Oh! He had to ensure her sanctuary within Aryn.

He drew back from Raghaalr, pausing a moment to give her maybe the most genuine smile he had ever smiled, and then he looked over at the little loner. “I, uh,” Leave it to Lazarus to not have made up a convincing alibi in the near endless hours they had spent trekking through nowhere. “I ran into trouble on the way back from Fellfang… Robin saved my life… a few times,” he glanced down at his injured foreleg. It was close to healed by now, but still he could not run well on it. If he hadn’t died in that cave he would certainly have starved several times over before reaching Aryn. Robin had faithfully prevented each one. “I would not be here if not for her. She can be trusted.” Or else those Blutwald spies have far to much time on their paws… He looked back at Robin as she stood there submissive but still with the spunky fire in her eyes. Robin, a spy… a small and mischievous smile crept onto his muzzle as he wished he could crack that joke, but now was probably not the time…

Four paces, two paces, a mere tail-length and then thuff, they met. Lazarus’s familiar scent washed upon her just as hers did to him, tinged with strange wilderness and lands upon which Raghaalr had never set paw. But it was his, still his beneath all that clutter. She arched her neck, resting her head over his shoulders, a heavy breath puffing from between her jaws. Her eyes had fluttered shut; a weariness forced upon her by the cascade of relief. She was breathless, not from her run, but from the shock of emotions.

His voice warmed the air next to her, and she twitched her scarred ears. A soft rumble was the Warden’s initial response; something that said what words could not. There would be many questions later, many things to talk about, but in this present moment it was but a celebration, which did not require speech. And though she could have held onto the young male for many minutes more, she was too aware of his companion, who lingered by the two of them, a little awkward but seemingly unafraid. As Lazarus leaned back, she met his eyes a moment, and returned the warm smile he gave, impressed by the new maturity that his expression seemed to hold.

Raghaalr straightened, then, and set her ruddy gaze upon the other she-wolf, a mixture of curiosity and contentment etched through her dark features. Lazarus gave a stumbling introduction, cementing the other she-wolf’s place as worthy of being an honored guest. It was true that Aryn had become fervently suspicious of everyone beyond their borders, but the word of one of their own was highly counted. After all, this was not the first time a son of the Lord and Lady had brought a stranger to their midst. And now Shoshana had born their children, and she was an Arynian as any other.

“I believe you.” The Warden bent her head in a nod of greeting, a faint smile flickering across her scarred maw. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robin.” She looked towards Lazarus again, marveling to herself. Fellfang was quite the distance away now. She was most eager to hear more details of his travels, but the rest of Aryn needed to be brought the good news. There were a few certain wolves who would be fiercely interested in Lazarus’s return, his parents included.

She turned slightly, pointing her nose in the direction of Aryn’s den site. “Shall I escort you both?” She inquired heartily, red eyes glittering.

With every step the warden called Raghaalr took, the tension seemed to mount, threatening to break in wild coils of color and laughter, tears and nostalgia. Robin wasn’t tethered to that tension. As Raghaalr and Lazarus met physically, she could almost see it unfold around them; the dull, tall grasses brightened in their vicinity, the clouds nearly broke to pour godly sunlight upon their shining black pelts.

Robin knew she was painting an idyllic picture out of the image provided to her, but she couldn’t quite let it go. She was happy for him, happy for him to be home, but her sympathy was no match for the roil of envy that boiled inside her chest. Not wanting it to poison this moment, she closed her eyes and dipped her head in a humble bow when Laz introduced her. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robin, the she-wolf spoke the same as her elders back home. “‘Pl- The pleasure is mine,” she said and offered a wan smile to those penetrating, red eyes. Robin may have been born into formalities as a Highkin, but it was not of her nature and she fumbled with it. At least Lazarus wasn’t bred for that kind of nonsense.

She looked to her companion, her smile growing more genuine at the prospect of being further welcomed into the pack’s territory. Her silver-tipped black tail fanned two excited pumps before ceasing from the nervousness. Raghaalr offered to escort them both to the heart of Aryn. She felt her stomach do a somersault and her teeth threatened to chatter uncontrollably. Not even Lazarus’s easy smile could settle her now.

Lazarus grinned in delight when Raghaalr accepted his explanation for Robin, wagging his tail and looking at his friend. She answered the black Warden tentatively, and her smile seemed nervous. Well, she is a lone wolf. It’s been a while since she’s been in a pack. It only makes sense that she is nervous. She flicked her pretty amber gaze to him after she finished addressing Raghaalr, and he saw that she did mean the words despite her anxiety. An anxiety that become even more apparent when Raghaalr offered an escort. He nodded to the Warden and fell in beside Robin as they began the walk, bumping her gently with his shoulder as he did, as an attempted reassurance. His family would love her, he knew, she just had to wait and see.

His own serenity was quick to evaporate, however. He was so caught up in how well this reunion went that he had momentarily forgotten about the other, more painful reunions that awaited. Some of which may not go nearly as swimmingly… Within the first few steps he was as anxious as his friend.

Despite the stumbling of her speech, Robin seemed genuine, and there was hardly anything anyone else one could ask for. She did not doubt Lazarus’s word; he must have spent a great deal of time with the other she-wolf. Nerves were no big surprise, and Raghaalr did her best to appear as welcoming as she could; which did tend to be a challenge. Thick rugged fur and various scars coupled with being big in general accented her appearance drastically. But a wagging tail and lolling tongue often helped matters - though Ragha did not embody that much excitement at the moment. She tilted her head, bobbing her chin slowly, before pointing towards the sky and the direction of Aryn’s camp with her nose. It would take them a fair bit of time to walk, but certainly not a great amount, and she imagined they’d be moving quicker than usual. She had some idea that Lazarus himself would be anxious to return; however, he’d brought himself to the borders and that was all in itself a challenge.

“To home,” She murmured, half to herself, as they set off. She took in a great breath and felt her lungs swell, supporting her whole body. Aryn would have a reason to rejoice once more, and Raghaalr could not help feeling proud to be bringing the news. Bless the One! A child has come home!