Though both called deer, Fenris Deer were far more dangerous than their Terra ancestors.
Their razor-sharp antlers could instantly shred a person to pieces, and an adult was comparable in size to a Fenris Wolf, making it a living armored vehicle.
It was no wonder he became king, being able to tame a deer as a mount.
The young wolves sensed the threat and instinctively formed a ring, their frost-covered bodies layered around Worp and Sylvia.
The low growls rumbling in their throats were no longer playful purrs but a predator's warning.
The tall warrior, clad in Fenris Wolf fur, dismounted his war-deer, his heavy iron boots leaving two deep indentations in the snow.
"I am Tengil, King of the Rus Tribe, outsider, are you here to see me?"
Worp: "I am Worp, King Tengil, we have come to seek cooperation."
"How do we cooperate?"
Tengil asked.
"My wolf pack can help the Tengil Tribe hunt; they can sniff out beasts three kilometers away and track the most cunning Ice Troll in a blizzard."
Tengil: "A very good proposal. What can we offer you?"
"The fire season is coming, and the pack needs to migrate. We need to board your tribe's dragon boats."
Worp stroked Sylvia's silver-gray mane. The female wolf affectionately rubbed her neck against his cheek, while the young wolves made low whimpering sounds at his feet.
Tengil's eyes held a cunning glint, "If you join the Rus Tribe, we will be one family. The Rus Tribe will never abandon our people."
He assumed Worp must be from a powerful tribe, as weaker tribes could not possibly tame Fenris Wolves. Therefore, he suspected Worp had other motives for joining the Rus Tribe.
But as long as Worp could join the Rus Tribe and teach their people how to tame Fenris Wolves, Tengil could tolerate any of his motives.
Worp: "The pack can join the Rus Tribe, but I have one condition."
Tengil was very surprised; he hadn't expected Worp to agree so readily, without any thought of bargaining.
Tengil's voice, mixed with the white mist he exhaled, said, "As long as I can do it, I will fulfill any condition you have!"
"My condition is simple," Worp pointed at the wolf child, "Give this child a name."
"I don't need him to name me!"
The wolf child bared his teeth at Tengil.
"He is your son?"
Tengil's gaze shifted back and forth between Worp and the wolf child.
"No."
Worp shook his head. The wolf child's gaze towards Tengil grew fiercer. 'Why are you meddling?'
...
In the Rus Tribe's royal court, Worp was respectfully led to a seat on the right side of the throne.
Sylvia lay beside Worp, gently nudging her wolf muzzle into Worp's embrace, her damp nose exhaling white mist onto his clothes, while the young wolves curled up docilely at his feet.
Tengil's eyes gleamed with undisguised envy, "Fenris Wolves are the most cunning predators in this land. I am very curious how you tamed them?"
Worp: "With a sincere heart."
Tengil couldn't help but laugh, thinking Worp was joking.
Only a fool would try to exchange sincerity with a wild beast.
But he also knew that taming Fenris Wolves was certainly a secret skill passed down through Worp's tribe for generations, a treasure they would rather take to their graves than reveal. How could it be easily given to the Rus Tribe?
But Worp truly only used a sincere heart.
Fenris Wolves were semi-intelligent creatures; their intelligence was no lower than that of humans.
As long as one was willing to teach them carefully, help them understand human language, and eliminate communication barriers, other problems would also be solved.
And the meat of the deer herd was the guarantee of education, because only those who didn't have to worry about survival could talk about education and civilization.
Any creature would show a docile side when full, while hunger would awaken their inherent ferocity.
"You want me to name this child?" Tengil said, noting that the wolf child was glaring at him with a beast-like, wary gaze.
"I don't need it!"
The wolf child squeezed out a low growl from his throat, his pupils flashing with wild light, like a young beast unwilling to show weakness.
Tengil turned to Worp, his voice tinged with helplessness, "You see, he has refused me twice now. It seems I cannot help you. However, my promise still stands; you can choose another condition."
Worp stared sternly at the wolf child, "You have only two paths before you: either let Tengil bestow a name upon you, or I will name you. Choose one yourself."
"You."
A low sound rumbled in his throat, as if he had compromised.
Worp extended his hand towards the wolf child. The wolf child immediately tensed his back, baring his teeth and lowering his head.
"Wouldn't it have been better this way from the start?"
Worp's fingers delved deep into the wolf child's messy golden hair, forcefully rubbing it as if grooming a wolf cub's fur.
Those light golden strands lifted fine golden glints in the firelight, then became disheveled again with his mischievous movements.
The wolf child shook his head, displaying his stubbornness. But the range of the head shake was small, seeming to indicate both resistance and an unwillingness to truly shake off Worp's hand.
"Leeman Rus, that's the name I'm giving you."
Worp said, "This was always your name."
Tengil leaned forward, his voice tentative, "Leeman is a hero from ancient Fenris legends; he single-handedly annihilated the Ice Troll's lair. That is indeed a good name, but why not use your own tribe to name him?"
Worp slowly withdrew his hand from stroking Rus, "We are now people of the Rus Tribe. This is what you, Your Majesty, requested."
Rus bared his teeth at Tengil again; he hated this meddling king!
Tengil suddenly burst into laughter, his voice shaking the torches in the royal court, "His untamed spirit is indeed worthy of the Rus Tribe's name! Outsider, I approve of your little wolf cub becoming a warrior of the Rus Tribe!"
He raised his wineskin and drank it all, his Adam's apple bobbing violently with each swallow, using it to conceal the sharp glint in his eyes.
Although Worp denied his father-son relationship with Leeman Rus, and Leeman Rus would constantly bare his teeth, looking untamed, his inherent reliance on Worp could not be hidden. Otherwise, why would he have to be so close to Worp in such a large royal tent?
His behavior was entirely that of a sulking child, wanting parental reward but not wanting anyone to see that he wanted the reward.
He was very much like an untamed young wolf, both craving the warmth of the pack and fearing exposing his soft belly.
Tengil's sharp, hunter-like gaze lingered on Leeman Rus's stubborn back. His awkward personality could be exploited.
He did not intend to destroy the relationship between this father and son. Leeman Rus was just awkward, not truly dissatisfied with Worp. If he dared to destroy their father-son relationship, Leeman Rus would fight him to the death.
What he wanted was for this father and son to truly integrate into the Rus Tribe, using their ability to tame Fenris Wolves to strengthen the Rus Tribe, rather than souring relations.
But he could give Leeman Rus recognition and a sense of belonging in ways other than kinship, binding him to the Rus Tribe's ship. The Rus Tribe did not lack warriors like Leeman Rus; they often appeared untamed, but as long as they were given the recognition they most craved, it would earn their unwavering loyalty.
Worp's fingers gently combed through Sylvia's silver-gray mane. He looked up, his voice like lava slowly flowing in the fire season:
"King Tengil, you just said I could choose another request?"
The ice crystals on Tengil's beard fell off with his nod: "As long as I can do it."
"Then help me build a school. I am still better at being a teacher."
...
Leeman Rus turned over, wrapped in a deer-hide blanket, and his forehead 'thumped' against the open wolf muzzle of his wolf brother.
"Awoo."
The young wolf awoke from his sleep, his beast eyes suddenly contracting in the darkness. Once he saw Leeman Rus clearly, a wronged whimper rolled from his throat. 'Why are you bothering me in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?'
"Sorry, Geri, I wasn't paying attention. Go back to sleep."
Leeman Rus looked embarrassed and soothingly rubbed the young wolf's ear.
The young wolf didn't mind and 'awoo'ed at him again.
"I know, I'll go to bed early."
Leeman Rus turned over again. The continuous snoring in the tent was very noisy, and the young wolves' bodies rose and fell in the darkness.
Skoll's tail occasionally brushed his ankle peeking out from the blanket, Fenrir's front paw was pressing on the corner of his deer-hide blanket, and Geri and Freki were like two furry walls sandwiching him in the middle.
They had slept together since they were little.
When they were young, they all curled up in Sylvia's embrace, and the female wolf would build a fortress against the severe cold with her body heat.
Then Worp came.
His wolf brothers gradually grew up, and their fur could already withstand the cold on its own. Worp also made him deer-hide clothes and blankets.
But when they were in the den, Worp, Sylvia, he, and his other wolf brothers all slept together.
But after coming to the Rus Tribe, that hateful king separated them!
He actually arranged a separate tent for Worp, letting him sleep with Sylvia, while he could only sleep with his wolf brothers. That cunning king must have wanted to break them apart!
Leeman Rus turned over unhappily. This time, he carefully avoided Geri's wolf muzzle, not waking the sleeping wolf brother.
"Leeman Rus."
Leeman Rus slowly chewed on the name, his tongue touching his canines, feeling the vibration of each syllable.
"Leeman Rus."
He said it again; this name was as sweet as honey.
He had a name, given to him by Worp.
"Leeman Rus!"
His voice was a bit louder this time.
"Awoo."
Geri responded with a wolf howl.
Leeman Rus's smile froze on his face. He saw his wolf brothers looking at him in the darkness, and when he turned his head, he saw all his wolf brothers had pricked up their ears, listening to him talking to himself.
He forgot that Fenris Wolves remained vigilant even in their sleep. Any subtle disturbance, even the rustle of snow particles falling from an ice shard or the rustle of insects moving deep within the frozen ground, would wake them.
This was an instinct etched into the genes of all Fenris residents, a necessary skill for their survival in the harsh environment.
"Awoo."
Fenrir also let out a cry, curious why he was saying his own name in the middle of the night.
Leeman Rus coldly scolded his wolf brothers, "Go to sleep quickly! We have to hunt tomorrow!"
The young wolf whimpered plaintively, but Leeman Rus ignored him. He wrapped himself tightly in his blanket, covering his face with the deer hide.
...
Tengil lay behind the hill, squinting at the sky.
The pale sun was like a melting ice crystal, casting a sickly halo from behind the grayish clouds.
"It's really warm today. That's not a good sign."
As Tengil's low voice spoke, the white mist he exhaled condensed into fine ice shards on his beard.
"How much longer until the fire season?"
Leeman Rus, who was lying next to him, asked.
Tengil found his question strange, because judging time was the most basic common sense for all Fenris people. Even children had to learn how to calculate time. Those who couldn't remember when the fire season would arrive didn't deserve to live in this world.
"In three months at most, the glaciers will melt, but when we can find a new island is an unknown. If it drags on too long, many of our people will starve to death."
Leeman Rus asked, "Is your food reserve not enough to eat?"
Tengil shook his head, "In Fenris, there is never enough food. Because no one knows how long the dragon boats will drift in the fire season. The best case is that the original island doesn't sink, but not many people have that good luck. Three great years ago, during the fire season, dragon boats from other tribes drifted to our island, but unfortunately, they had drifted for too long at sea. When I found them, everyone had starved to death."
"Awoo!"
A long wolf howl came from the distant ice plain. The sound pierced the howling cold wind, stirring up subtle echoes on the frozen ground.
Tengil squinted, the ice crystals on his beard falling off with his upward gaze.
"Your father is back."
His voice was very low.
Leeman Rus stubbornly said, "He is not my father."
Tengil smiled. If Leeman Rus truly didn't consider Worp his father, he would have roared, baring his teeth, instead of giving a soft, unyielding retort.