Valka

Nothing about her life is honestly noteworthy. At least, not her early life.

She was born on a winter’s icy night, when all around her lay dead and broken. Her siblings laid dead and broken by her side, but she stood healthy and strong above the rest, a warrior from the moment she drew breath. The lovely yet firm dame Yrr, and the doting yet stern sire Valthor, both of them warriors in their own rights, whilst saddened at the loss of their brood, were quick to shower their only child with the affection and care she would need to grow into a strong, powerful female.

And grow she did.

The young pup soon matured into a strong, beautiful female. Confident, out-going and not afraid to speak her mind, Valka greatly enjoyed being the center of attention of her peers. But her skills did not stop there. The girl took after her parents, raised with a warrior's honor, till she became one. Valthor was pleased, Yrr elated, both of them proud to witness their daughter become a fine young lady, popular, reliable, strong, and most of all, happy.

And so it was that Valka served in the United Pack, led by none other than the skillful Khonsu. It was a simple life back then, or so it seemed. Simple, yet fulfilling. She was a thriving warrior, a skilled female, cheered on by family and friends alike. There was nothing else to wask for.

...

It was not long after until she met him. Leif. A peer of hers, she could vaguely remember him being in her cycle of groupmates. Never before had she noticed him - a quiet pup he had been back then, the likes of which used to hang out at the fringes of the group, shadowed by the older, rowdier pups. And yet… No one could deny his charm. Age favored him, adulthood treated him nicely, and the few scars littered on his body only added to his appeal. And yet despite it all, Leif proved to be a poet, not a fighter. She had not taken him seriously at first, laughed off his flirting attempts, thought him brave, in a silly way, for proclaiming his affection for her. But. Well. She gave him a chance, if only to see how much further she would be entertained. And then, much to her surprise...

He won her over.

It was almost like a match made in heaven. Both of them with similar interests, both with high goals, both with compatible personalities. Valka never laughed as much in her life as when she was with Leif. He made her smile, he made her laugh, he reminded her of the joys in life, the ones found in the soft edges of a cloud, the touch of a flower's petal, the light of a firefly in a sweet, summer's night. Everyone could see where the two lovebirds were headed and no one was surprised when they finally announced the news.

They were to be mates. Forever and always together.

Not long after that, new life began to bloom inside her belly. And yet the same curse that had befallen her mother now seemed to have passed on to her. Out of the three pups that she gave birth to, only one drew breath. She mourned for the two, two young lives that had been taken too soon. But her son demanded her attention, and with effortless ease, Valka devoted herself to him. Strong, healthy, handsome. Her son. Jarl.

The beginning of the end. That's what it was.

Her son grew. Just as she had, just as her parents had, Jarl had become a strong young wolf, vocal, confident, handsome. But where she knew how to control herself, Jarl lacked in discipline. Initially, she blamed Leif. After all, he had chosen to step back as a warrior to take care of their only child, allowing her to focus on her duties. It wasn't Valka's fault that their kid had grown a bit too unruly for her taste! Not to mention those disturbing rumors about him being involved with the new cult. But Jarl promised, with his sweet smiles and puppy eyes that no longer belonged to a pup, that he was a good one. Don't worry, Ma, he would smile, I won't get in trouble.

But he did. Obviously, he did.

Jarl knew his mother was watching him closely. He knew he needed to get her off his back, prove to her that he was more than a troublemaker (not that she need to know that he was one), divert her attention from his… extracurricular activities (not that she needed to know about those either). He needed to show her he was a formidable member of the pack now, a grown up! Too confident, too rowdy, too much, just too much. He bit more than he could chew.

It happened during an impromptu hunt. Her darling boy, who no matter what, held his mother's favor, had been the one organizing it. But the dark and cloudy weather had been an ill omen from the start. Many had tried to argue against it, better to wait for the heavy rain to pass, hunt on another day. Leif vehemently tried to drill some sense into his son. It just made Jarl all the more determined, too stubborn to admit defeat so easily - a fine chance to prove to everyone of his worth and skills. Valka, blinded by pride over her own flesh and blood, had agreed.

It had been a mistake.

The rain was nearly blinding. The ground too muddy, too slippery, too unstabble. The rest of the party begged to leave, return to the safety of their dens, upon solid ground. Jarl would hear none of it. When Valka realized the extent of the danger they had put themselves in, it was too late. The ground gave way. Soon, it was almost as if the whole mountain followed. Something hit her, stabbed her, a pain so sharp and blinding that left her head fuzzy and vision blurry. She collapsed.

It was over before she even knew what happened.

When she finally came to, she wished she was the one buried beneath the earth. Her son, her darling boy... He was dead. Swept by the current of dirt and mud. Gone. Just like the right half of her face, her eye, her very soul. Gone. Twisted, scarred. Gone.

Valka was never the same again.

After a while, when the deep magic within the island was once more awakened, her own parents followed after their grandson in the afterlife. Yrr and Valthor were gone. Unable to take more of this grief, the already closed off and shaken Valka, pushed away any and all remaining friends. Even her own mate. Even Leif. He too left.

Everyone did.

And she was alone.

Time passed. Seasons came and went, and Almos became a land that she could not recognize. Not that she paid much attention, her heart and mind deeply set upon a time which no longer was and no longer would be. She missed her old self. Her old friends. Her Jarl. Her Leif. But how could she ever hope to return to her old life, when she could hardly recognize her own self?

It was only when Osirus died under mysterious circumstances, more than normal at least, that the old warrior felt something akin to a spark again. The magic of the land had not claimed an Alpha like this before. Valka set her eye to the North. Suddenly, the faces of her late parents claimed by the Island, and Jarl, his involvement to the red witch, all of it came back. It made sense. Of course it made sense - magic. Of course.

In the months that followed, the silver lady chose to follow the only leader that spoke with any sense of the olden ways which she had once served to protect. Perhaps… Perhaps this change would prove to be beneficial for once. Perhaps she could find the lost pieces of herself amidst the icy mountaintops of the west. Stonehaven.

And perhaps... She can begin to rebuild her life again.