Rewriting His Past

Elves and Wolves

"Hello!" Unexpectedly, an elf with dark skin and green eyes appeared in front of them. Right, have they arrived at the school's main entrance using the teleportation token. Dusk sucked in a breath, and Micah gave a small, startled scream. Between them and the elf, pyrite formed a barrier. On Pyrite's shoulder, Word inflated into a larger-than-usual featherball. The two presented an intimidating image. Although neither of them frightened Dusk, the energy they exuded made the other students give them a wide berth. The elf might have done that. Dusk thought.

"Are you Dusk?" The elf's cheery question rang through the air. "And Word, was it?" Word crouched down and hissed. "Salty little thing, is it hard for you to keep that form?" When the elf raised a hand, Pyrite's arm intervened to prevent Word from squeezing the elf's fingers.

"Who are ya?" Pyrite growled, but he did so while resting one hand on his hip and leaving the other hanging loose. Pyrite had tense arms and a rigid back, and an odd aura erupted all around him. Though he could not place it, Dusk could sense that the energy emanating from Pyrite was not normal. He pulled out a teleportation token from his storage and held it in his hand, but Pyrite looked like he wanted to fight more than he wanted to run.

"Oh, I guess I was wrong." The elf was almost singing at Pyrite. His reaching hands lingered in midair, as if waiting for the right moment to reach out to Word once more. "Your magic is too untamed and wild to be a blood mage, so you cannot be one." The elf tried to get around Pyrite, but Pyrite would not even move a step. He was keeping watch over them, but there was more going on. Dusk could feel it. What was happening? Micah's face was expressionless as he caught his glance, but his attention was fixed on the elf. Did anyone have a grudge here?

"Elves are incredibly afraid of things they cannot control." In time to block his path to Dusk, Pyrite said while shaking his head. "Ya should not be afraid now more than ever, elf." His voice was rougher and deeper than Pyrite's usual voice, and it was full of authority. It demanded attention. Was this something coming from Pyrite's alpha nature?

"Compared to what is typical of beast folk, it is a little wilder." Under his breath, the elf murmured. He ducked his dark head in thought. Spotting a chance to assist Pyrite. In order to prevent this from happening before the surrounding energy erupted, Dusk lifted his foot and took a step forward. When he turned to face Micah with his "why" on his lips, Micah's hand had already grabbed his arm. Dusk bit his lip as he decided to put his trust in him and take his position back.

"Elf, what are ya doing here?" Pyrite's words were ignored. The elf's green eyes narrowed, and He looked Pyrite up and down. With his eyes narrowed, the elf gave Pyrite a side-to-side inspection. He moved slowly and steadily, as though he were examining a horse for sale. That look infuriated Dusk to the point where he felt sick. Pyrite was not an animal on sale.

Dusk did not realize he had moved forward until Micah's hand squeezed his arm. Although he never lost his cool when such behavior was directed at him, he detested watching Pyrite go through it. He was not deserving of it. Word was hissing away on Pyrite's shoulder. The annoying elf ignored Word's hisses, like Pyrite's words. Either the elf had no respect or no fear. Dusk had a hunch that it was both.

"The blood mage is you." The elf appeared to be inches away from Dusk's face and behind Pyrite's back in a blur. His skin was so dark that it blocked Dusk's vision. Where the elf's skin and his slender, green eyes were all he could see. Taking a look at him—or, perhaps more appropriately, into him. Dusk shuddered, a wave of disgust rippling through him. "The magic that is whirling around you, I can taste." He did not want anything of his to be tasted. Not by him, anyway.

"Back off!" Pyrite murmured as he cinched the elf's neck in his grasp. He pulled and threw the man, sending him and the black robes he was dressed in flying like a shattered kite. Even though Dusk was certain he would crash to the ground, he instead twisted like a cat and came to rest upright. His positive attitude did not miss a beat. Things were going to get worse. Who gave this man permission to enter a school?

"To have such strength, you have to be an alpha." He stood back up, and the area cleared out fast. In contrast to martial artists, nobody watched from the sidelines in this situation. The lack of commotion on the sidelines seemed stranger to Dusk than a group of onlookers placing wagers. Did they have knowledge that he did not have? Dusk would stake a wager on the likelihood of that happening.

"So," the elf dragged out the word before stepping in front of Pyrite while moving quickly once more. He had the option to do so at any time, but he chose to do so only now. That could have been considered clever or stupid. Dusk was unable to identify either their adversary or their objective. "I cannot say I dislike it, but it is aggressive." He ran his hand up Pyrite's exposed chest. "I know how I heard about you now." Pyrite knocked his hand off his chest.

"Who do you believe you are touching?" Dusk's mouth twisted as an unpleasant taste crept into his mouth as Micah spoke. Should he restrain Micah, as he did with him? He was not inclined to. The elf needed to back off, and he would not do this on his own. "Take your hand somewhere else; he is a mated man." Asserting Micah's position, Dusk nodded. The strange elf touching Pyrite bothered him. He did not enjoy being near them in any way.

"Oh, I'm not interested in the wolf folk. I'm interested in him," Dusk got a chill down his spine when those green eyes settled on him and then on his familiar, "And him." Instead of viewing him as a person, those eyes were viewing him as a thing—an intriguing, fascinating thing. His heart froze, and it gave him the creeps.

"From the beast folk, we elves have learned everything we can, particularly from the wolf folk." His teeth shone white as he grinned. Pyrite's bare rumble of a growl vibrated the atmosphere. Word twirled around his feet. Due to their bond, Dusk could sense Word's unease. Even without the ability to feel their bond, he could feel Pyrite's rage. That Dusk experience was the worst kind of anger one could experience; it was slow, calm, and angry. Pyrite. He bit the inside of his mouth and wished, once more, that he knew how to help him.

"Come here!" Word quickly slid into Dusk's arms in response, so it was a good call; at least he could take care of him. He raised his head and observed Pyrite. He was hoping that something in his icy, furious face would indicate what he could do to help him. If anything.

"I'll give ya something to learn from, elf." Pyrite said, again moving in between them. "Before I let ya touch my mates or our little feather friend," Pyrite growled through extended fangs, "I will send ya back to your damn forest in a wooden box."

"Why do you think I will hurt them, exactly? I would like to watch them." The elf appeared unfazed and calm, running a hand through his short hair. I will even impart a few lessons to him. Dusk believed his stomach might churn more violently when he grinned. In what sense did he say that? Dusk struggled to control his stomach's twists. His head pounded with a growing rage. Both emotions were too intense to feel at once. Did he even want to know?

"Ya think I would let that happen?" Pyrite reached for his side. Dusk winced as Pyrite's teeth clashed and his hands grasped at the air where no sword was present. "I will not allow you to observe even one of his head's hairs.

"Ah, what is a hair?" the elf asked with a shrug. Dusk felt his stomach turn again in anger and disgust, and Pyrite growled. Micah stepped closer to Dusk. "A wolf-folk nose is good, but a Howlite nose can smell the fur on a snake. To smell my intentions, you must too. At his waist, he leaned to the side. He looked at Dusk with a smile on his face and a bright light in his eyes. "No matter how talented the trait we bring out is, we elves have vowed never to repeat what happened to the wolf folk."

"Did ya swear not to hurt anybody while seeking the truth?" Pyrite's posture switched from that of a swordsman to that of a fist fighter. Although it was subtle, a big part of his upbringing involved avoiding swords and fists, so he noticed it right away.

"You enjoy talented people, huh? Is that it?" He gave the impression that he was anticipating Dusk's response in general. He was paying no attention to Pyrite, which was causing a tick to appear in Pyrite's left eye. "I know, and you will see that I am talented enough to amuse you." As he forced himself to swallow his disgust, Dusk could taste the bile trail running up his throat. Like they had any similarities at all. He held his nauseousness in his throat as he spoke, appearing calm and confident despite not feeling that way.

"I am losing my temper." Dusk said it in a cool, courteous manner. "Please move aside, as we have classes to attend." He did not pick Micah or Pyrite to amuse him. The elf was living in a far more fantastical world than anyone Dusk had ever met. He knew nothing about him or the people he cared for.

"Mr. Summerset! What do you believe you are accomplishing?" Mrs. Quartz entered hastily, her pale face flushed from the exertion. To compensate for the height difference, she leaped up. When she landed, she pulled firmly on his long ear and pulled him down to her level. With her arrival, the crackling air stopped, but Pyrite continued to appear tense and prepared to fight. While cuddling Word in his arms, Dusk would not let his guard down either. While he awaited the deputy headmaster's decision, he tried to keep his emotions under control.

"Do not think, Mr. Howlite, that I failed to witness you toss a teacher." Mrs. Quartz gave Pyrite a startling glare before quickly averting it. Mrs. Quartz's criticism of Pyrite required Dusk to disagree with her, but did she say teacher?

"Ow! Rose, is this the way to treat a childhood friend?" Mrs. Quartz twisted her hand as the elf whimpered, turning his ear in the process. The earlier sense of threat almost completely disappeared. In front of Mrs. Quartz, he changed into a pubescent child.

"Mr. Summerset, that is Mrs. Quartz at school." Mrs. Quartz looked a little more frazzled than she usually does when she is in a formal setting. The token was reinserted into storage as Dusk sighed. Word soared toward his shoulder. Pyrite fell in between him and Micah. He had unreadable eyes. Dusk had a sneaking suspicion that the elf who brought up his ancestor's trait had blinded him. "Is that a way to treat a student? The entrance door was where I saw everything."

"You called me!" Like a kid at the store demanding treats, he drew out the final phrase. He appeared to be about to throw a tantrum. "Rosey!" His mouth let out a loud scream, and his ear received another sudden twist. When Mrs. Quartz released him, he sobbed and fell to the ground. Straightening her white robe and pink underrobe. She turned, lifted her long white rabbit ears high, and spoke with her usual grace.

"I am hesitant to call this elf a fool." The elf in question was holding his ear as tears streamed down his face, and Mrs. Quartz gave him a look of scorn. "Your class schedule has changed because this is your new magical studies teacher." She gave Dusk an envelope that she had taken from her robes. "Your personal study has been replaced by Alchemy Studies now. Magical Studies have taken over your former Alchemy Studies slot."

Dusk put his mask on and said, "Understood," but inside he was banging his head against the wall. He did not want to interact with that elf, who was curled up on the ground for two hours each day. "Is Mr. Summerset here?" Dusk paused, trying to think of the right phrase to use. There was no way to make that sound good while simultaneously doubting his credentials.

"Please let me know if he is causing too much trouble." Mrs. Quartz politely smiled. She looked down at him while sighing. "Get off the ground, Mr. Summerset." He covered his protruding ears while glaring at her. Mr. Summerset was caught on the ground. "He is more brilliant than he appears; he was the best in his school, attributed to numerous developments in familiar bonds and magical understanding."

"I am responsible for the tokens we use today." Mr. Summerset buried his thumb deep in his heart. "Without me, you will still be crying when it rains and using paper slips!" His chin was raised, and he was giving them an expectant look.

"That is truly very impressive." Dusk said, not meaning the words that he was feeding the man's ego with. The dark elf faced Mrs. Quartz with sparkling eyes. Dusk sensed a headache coming on. He did not do well with people of this kind. Why did he keep experiencing all of these things? He ought to stop trying to lead a typical school life at this point. On the whole, he had no chance of doing it.

"Look, my pupil recognizes my brilliance!" Standing tall, he kept his eyes on Mrs. Quartz. "You will see that we get along just fine, Rosey. Now, if you'll excuse me," He spun around and wrapped himself in his black robes. "Dusk Wooddancer, I will see you this afternoon at East Field." He vanished without even making a token snap.

"Is he alright in the head?" Pyrite asked with his arms crossed across his chest and an expressionless face. Which was typically swaying with carefree happiness and even love, if Dusk dared to think that.

"Watch what you say, Mr. Howlite." Mrs. Quartz glared at Pyrite while scrunching up her nose. "However, he is." Mrs. Quartz raised a hand and brushed one of her long rabbit ears. "He is young—very young for an elf. By their standards, he is about your age, if not younger." Mrs. Quartz looked at Dusk, her lips pinned into a hard line. "He is smart; take notes from him and, if necessary, report to me each day. I will take care of his excessive behavior."

"Understood, Mrs. Quartz." Dusk placed a hand on his chest and gave a short and quick bow. Recognizing that he would have to handle the elf by himself.

"It was difficult to find someone on short notice. I appreciate your wiliness in this matter." Mrs. Quartz gave him a head nod. "Oh, and Mr. Wooddancer, I am glad to hear that you are feeling better."

After remaining relatively quiet up to this point, Micah said, "We all are."

"I see." Mrs. Quartz gave a small smile. "Well, if I may have a few moments of your time." Mrs. Quartz's eyes were drained as she gazed at Micah. "I have an answer to yesterday's question. You two should get to Leadership Class before Mr. Wooddancer is late."

"I will meet the two of you there." Upon Micah's statement, Pyrite nodded. Dusk imagined that he might be a little more disappointed or, at the very least, say goodbye more forcefully. The shift in Pyrite's attitude did not seem to bother Micah.

"See you soon," Dusk said, and they parted. It was their first time traveling alone, and Dusk observed that Pyrite was leading the way. Certainly ever since they first met. Glancing up at Pyrite. There was no toothy, wide grin. His eyes stared off into the distance, unreadable. Though he had never seen it himself, he was familiar with that expression. He had gone through it. Pyrite was getting up in his head, lost in his thoughts. Whether he should break free from them was a question Dusk pondered. Should he cut himself off from them or let Pyrite do it?

"I'm okay, Sunshine." Pyrite turned and gave him a corner-mouth smile.

"Which okay type are you?" Dusk asked, knowing very well that there were different types. The one you put on to get by, the mask you present to others, and the lie you told yourself. Dusk hoped against hope that it was not the latter.

"Ya are the first one to ask me that," Pyrite replied with a thin, illusory smile that had no real substance. "Ya would probably be the second person to understand, I suppose." Pyrite opened the door to the school. It appeared the two exuded an aura even without Micah. That prevented the whispering words and the curious eyes from getting too close. Which was what they needed right then.

"The Howlite family were bred to be hunting dogs in the past." Pyrite spoke in a soft voice that only Dusk could hear. It was almost impossible for him to do so because Pyrite's voice was so low. "This was before the best folk got equal rights; it was when we were treated like animals." The silent understanding that some still did hang in the air. Dusk thought back to Redneval, where beast folk were seldom seen and those who were not treated like animals were not considered equals. At least from what he heard. "Elves were at the forefront of that, the dark elves, anyway. The ones like him."

"Our sense of smell is so good. That we can find a living monster hidden among the dead. Smell an emotion before the person feeling it can even express it." Pyrite rumbled it out, his voice thick with emotion. Dusk walked a step closer to Pyrite until their arms brushed together. Offering his support in the only vague way he knew how. Wait, what did Pyrite just say? Dusk looked up so fast that he pinched his own neck. Word noticed and started rubbing his neck with his head.

"Yes, worry, shock, comfort, even love." Pyrite gave Dusk a full, toothy smile. "We Howlite's can smell it all."

"That must be a burden," Dusk said. Pyrite thought he would be the second to understand him. He was unable to comprehend the strain that characteristic must have put on Pyrite's body and mind. Pyrite was wrong; he couldn't understand him.

"Howlite's have a 60% chance of living to adulthood. I am among the fortunate." Pyrite grabbed Dusk's hand and brought it to his mouth. He gave his knuckles a tender kiss that the subject lacked. "Many go insane under the weight and need to be put down or placed in solitude."

"Is there nothing in magic that could aid you?" Dusk inquired, trying to think of a way to assist Pyrite. To help his family.

"Most magic is ineffective on or difficult to use on beast folk." When Dusk approached, Pyrite cocked his head and smiled brightly before closing his eyes. "Because of this, Micah primarily snaps tokens."

"Something has to exist." Dusk frowned. He had no knowledge of a beast folk's skills or of what was typical. Experiencing sensory overload in childhood and not surviving it? In this day and age, it should not be a problem.

"I did not share this with ya in order to burden ya or let it off my chest. That elf brought up bad memories. Although I try to rise above it, I believe there is a deep-seated mistrust there." Pyrite pushed Dusk into Leadership Class after opening the door. Dusk did not want to let that slide. His magic now served a purpose. Dusk strode into the room, ignoring all the eyes on him, as they were one of the last into the class. Sitting down, he chewed over what Pyrite had told him.

He needed to handle that elf. After taking a seat, Dusk pulled his books from storage. He had to finish his classes first. He had two before lunch and two after lunch. With his teacher or tutor—whatever he chose to call himself—he would draw the line. He also had to do it. Not wanting to skip the lessons he had paid so much money for, Dusk kept his eyes on the approaching teacher. For Pyrite, not for himself, he would confront that elf. Who was worthy of more than he could ever provide.