He hated to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, his Guardian had been right.
Growing up without his parents, he'd always assumed his guardian was simply some business associate who got chosen to act should the worse happen. He saw that Athan got the finest education, and the noble sons he mixed with there made him certain he would inherit some title when he reached his majority. He was well matched to the lifestyle, and loved nothing better than languishing in an armchair with a fine decanter to savour and a library to read. The rest of the training he put down to some paranoia or madness of his guardian, halfheartedly agreeing with the man who controlled the purse strings as he drilled emergency escape routes from the mansion and hiking long distances and worst of all, camping. It seemed heresy to him when his palette could detect the perfection of a master chef's soufflé to forage for bark and nettles and memorize which mushrooms were edible and which were poisonous.
He had only found use in his Guardian's teachings three times. Once, when he'd hit fifteen and his lean muscular body had suddenly made him rather popular with the young ladies of the school. Second, when he'd turned sixteen and that knowledge of mushrooms had led to a particularly fun, uninhibited party.
And third, when Demons had attacked the mansion and he'd fled, used his guardian's paranoia plan and taken a portal to another world.
Athan paused for a second, adjusting his tousled hair into an artistically tousled look instead. His attire, perfect for lounging in the library, was little suited to the wilderness. The stylish silver piping embossed in the soft leather of his boots apparently was another way for water to seep in, whilst the soft soles were well suited to dancing or fencing left aching feet from all the stones and protruding roots. The corduroy trousers silver pattern matched perfectly with his boots but lacked the warmth of wool. As for his shirt, well, good silk was so light and airy it felt like there was nothing there. And lastly, his rapier. Nothing felt better in his hand. The artistry of the decoration, the balance, the finest steel work a man could see. The tip pierced it's targets like they were made of butter, yet it was useless for hacking through an overgrown forest, leaving him collecting dew as he pushed through the trail hoping to discover civilization.
Maybe he should have taking to practicing with a brutish long sword like my guardian suggested. Maybe he should have attired himself in the warm, humble wool. Maybe he should have paid more attention to good places to make camp, how he did that weird stick trick to light a fire and where to find food in a forest.
His stomach growled loudly in agreement with the last fact.
Yet he suddenly realised, it wasn't the only think growling. He dropped his hand to the hilt of his blade, peering cautiously into the overgrowth. Slowly, he realised that it was a constant, perhaps more of a gurgle than growl. He edged through the branches, nervously, as the sound grew louder, and it suddenly clicked. A stream, running through the forest, churning on the rocks to make a faint noise. The forest opened up around it, allowing sunlight to reach in and spread a little more colour than the endless green and brown he'd been trudging through.
And by the stream, he saw what he'd been searching for. A sign of human life somewhere nearby. He'd seen several of them before, but never close up. They came in several different types and he'd known some friends who had them at their home. A dog, they were called. They were kept as pets, sat around with their tongues lolling, loved been scratched, chewing on bones and playing fetch. He emerged slowly, not wanting to startle it. It was large, and grey, and didn't have a colour like the city ones.
“Hey Boy? Who's a good boy? Is your owner around here? Awwww, if you're a good boy, take me to your owner, I'll buy you a big bone to chew on…”
The 'dog' turned to him, revealing it's sharp canines and showing Athan's stomach what a real growl sounds like – deep, spine tingling and echoing, it's yellow ferocious eyes filled with anger and death. His Guardian had warned him about yellow eyes in the night, he vaguely remembered as he started to back away, drawing his rapier from it's sheath.
Now, what was a wolf again?
