Ashfell Frost 🌋

Granddaughter of Lykaon Grayfoot

Up opacities and change eyes to green

Level 01: (445) 445 - 67/103/121/65/89

When Renard’s half brother, Swiftflame, came to power, she was forgotten to the edges of Red Ridge. Assigned far from the inner sanctum that she had grown to love and call home. Her mother, the Lykaon before Swiftflame, had always been gentle and kind, so Renard did not understand her brother’s malice.

Renard worried that Swiftflame’s bloodlust would find her and her newborn pup. After all Swiftflame had felt enough paranoia to all but cast Renard out of the territory. Would Swiftflame feel that her child would be a challenge to his throne? Though Lykaonship had hardly passed from blood to blood prior to the current ruler, Renard felt uneasy all the same.

It had been many years since Swiftflame rose to power, yet there were no signs that he had taken a mate and sired blood heirs. To Renard’s horror... what if he came for her daughter as his own?

Renard’s fears manifested themself when Swiftflame appeared at the edge of the territories, far from the central, rich valley of Red Ridge. “Sister I hear you welped,” he said, eyeing pups who were now hiding beside his sister. If not for her tawny pelt, his sister would have looked just like their mother. Those green eyes haunted him.

”Yes, and I heard you took in a young ward,” Renard responded guardedly.

”Amnesty.”

”... what?”

”My ward’s name. His mother, ever wary of me, gave him up to me at his naming,” Swiftflame said, as if remembering the horror on Scuttle’s face as he tore away her victorious pup.

”I see. What brings you here so far from the throne?”

Swiftflame’s eyes sharpened as he rounded on Renard. “Is that a threat? Do you know something?” He snarled, foam clawing at his mouth as he spat his words.

Renard shrunk, her pups suddenly aware of how frail she seemed compared to Swiftflame. “No Lykaon. I only meant to make conversation. How can we entertain your presence?”

Swiftflame calmed as quickly as he roused. “I am here for your strongest welp,” he said, “then I must hurry back.”

Renard’s fury rose in her throat, but could only manage to fight back her burning tears. “Why? Outer territory is exempt from the one victor rule!” She wanted all of her pups to grow up and enjoy life.

”You dare question your Lykaon?” Swiftflame hissed, his eyes suddenly lighting on one of Renard’s pups. Ferocity in her eyes, defiance holding her body taut against her fear. “The Lykaon’s relations aren’t exempt. It’s too... dangerous to allow so much of our blood to run around.” He looked hard at Renard and it felt almost as if he was warning her to hold her place, lest he change his mind and kill her outright.

“Have them fight.” Lykaon Swiftflame had addressed his guards who quickly started to gather the pups. 

”Yes Lykaon,” Renard’s words weakly fell, allowing the guards to take her children. She couldn’t oppose her half brother, not because of unwillingness, but knowing full well he was stronger.

—

The third remembered being told to fight her siblings. Egged on to crush their throats and gouge out their eyes. In the end, the third was victorious and didn’t understand why she was leaving with Lykaon Swiftflame, her uncle, rather than staying with her mother. The third felt hot rage as she snarled and lashed out, biting Swiftflame with her milk teeth.

He laughed and then snarled, causing the third to soil herself in fear. It was the last time she felt defiance towards him.

”My dear niece. You earned your name. No need for such barbarism,” Swiftflame said, dusting her off. “You will grow up with Amnesty and be my heir.” This she did not understand.

”And my name?”

”Ashfell.”