🌬 Rømling

🌬 Rømling 🌬
leader - flesh and blood
♪ theme ♪
mate

« You will never catch them, because the sun kissed your forehead and laid its hands on your shoulders. »

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Enemies defeated:
Bears: 24
Birds: 55
Felines: 61
Hooved prey: 145
Marine animals: 3
Mustelids: 43
Reptiles: X
Small canids: 82
Wolves: 192

Battles lost: 9

Trophies found: 71

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This young wolf with a bizarre sand-colored pattern managed to fray the nerves of his entire pack while he was a very young puppy. The fact is that, although he was not born in the tundra, he admired the unknown spiritual power and strength of these wonderful lands from childhood to the depths of his soul.
He could frolic for a long time in the meadows, listening to the subtle whisper of the wind and enthusiastically examined the patterns carved on the coastal stones. Some said that he had some special gift, a keen sense of smell, the ability, like no one else, to feel the presence of spirits and sources of power with his skin. Others said that this was not a very surprising occurrence in a pack of one-third half-spirits, and that the puppy's excessive curiosity would lead him straight into the jaws of a bear.
Unfortunately, the legends of the Great White Giants interested him more than the bears. Every time it snowed or more, a snow storm began, he repeatedly asked to tell him the legends about these mysterious snow creatures that reign in these lands, and memorized every smallest detail with avid interest. Well, at this point in his life, he's still a pup who sticks his nose around, so his craving for bedtime stories was understandable.
But the whole pack's hair stood on end when one night it turned out that Rømling had disappeared somewhere.
Scouts galloped around the entire tundra, re-examining every stone they knew. The hunters set off, side by side, overcoming an increasingly inflamed snowstorm, hoping to catch at least a distant scent of the missing puppy. Well, it is quite logical to assume that if the gods had not taken pity and the snowstorm had not suddenly receded, then the pack would have lost a young member that night.
When Rømling, hardly alive, chilled to the very bones, was returned home, he, barely recovering, told with quiet delight that he had seen the Great White Giants. He heard how they howl, how they clatter with their powerful teeth, heave up whole clouds of snow with their paws. How did they not notice the little Rømling in their endless run.
Then he promised himself that he would definitely catch up with them one day. One day they will look into his eyes. And then he will know the whole essence of the tundra.

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Of course, he became a scout when his bones got stronger and his fangs were able to withstand other predators. There was no doubt that the wolf, freedom-loving, frivolous and obsessed with his own idea, would not become an herbalist with all his keen sense of spirits. He also could not become a hunter - while tracking down prey, he was constantly distracted by the presence of spirits, and he was also not strong enough to finish off the hunted prey.
But one should not assume that Rømling is an unnecessary member of the pack or that he is treated with hostility. He was a huge asset to the pack as a scout - he explored every little detail of his environment with avid curiosity, discovering more and more secrets, and besides, he had a phenomenal memory - he literally never forgot anything.
He settled down pretty quickly. Being a very young wolf, he was thoughtful, prudent and cautious, never resorted to senseless risks, respected all members of his pack and all living things that surrounded him around. He honored tradition, although he often liked to visit the tundra or more remote packs, listening to the legends of their gods and tales of their customs.
It was no secret to anyone that he was still obsessed with the legends of the Great White Giants. He remembered the promise he had made to himself on the dark snowy night to catch up with them no matter what. In the endless frosty expanses of the tundra, he was looking not only for spirits and sources of strength that could help the companions; he was also looking for any traces of these mysterious powerful spirits, anything that could reveal their secret, which would help finally fulfill his dream.
When he was still too young and weak to roam these dangerous lands alone, he tried to learn as much as possible from the older and wiser members of the pack - he usually turned to the spirits, and the herbalist Lerk considered his mentor. One day she told him that he would never be able to catch up with the White Giants, for the sun kissed his forehead and laid its hands on his shoulders. It is possible that Rømling never fully understood what this meant, but he certainly took it as a challenge to some extent.

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