Episode 15 : The Wolf King of Dogtooth Mountain - Part 3

 At first, the wolves didn't seem to understand what was going on, let alone Guin.

 Guin is finally pulled down on his back by countless wolves...

 What came to his ears was the scream of a wolf that suddenly began to mingle with the deafening howl of a majestic wolf.

 The leopard-headed warrior listened in amazement, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

 Something is driving the wolves away in a somewhat violent manner.

 But what's out there?

 At last, the jaws that had been clinging to Guin's throat loosened involuntarily, and the fangs slipped from the tight muscles that had been clenched so tightly, and Guin now lay completely free.

 The pain of his wounds, fatigue, and bleeding, which he had not felt while fighting, suddenly swept over his body. His head rumbled and his strength seemed to drain away from the bite wounds of his fangs.

 Now, the area is completely deserted. However, it is clear that the wolves have not all been chased away and left, as can be seen from the occasional, hushed whooshes and whooshes that come from the surroundings.

 Guin tried to sit up.

 I felt a sharp pain in my throat and back, as well as in my arms and legs and all over my body, as if I had cracked a muscle, and at once I fell down again without thinking.

 But curiosity and suspicion outweighed even the pain. Guin gritted his teeth, stifled a groan, got up on his hands, and--

 And I saw him.

 At the same time, he drew in a sharp breath. It was something so unexpected that saved Guin and put the wolves to rest.

 The eyes of the unmoved Guin were wide open, glittering as if he doubted what he and I had seen. At the same time, the leopard-headed warrior, who until a moment ago had been nothing more than a leopard in human form, a wild and ferocious beast in its own right It was as if the diver, who had slipped into the depths of the sea, was slowly emerging and eventually returning to the surface of the water, popping his head out.

"--This is amazing."

 Guin said with a lisp, as if he had long since forgotten how to speak.

"You saved my life. I can't even imagine what you're going through, and neither can I."

 The other party seemed to have understood Guin's words. Or perhaps it wasn't the words, but rather the waves of Guin's astonished emotions that were being transmitted. It slowly turned its chin upwards, with a somewhat satisfied expression on its face.

 The moon has risen. The goddess Iris, once hidden in the clouds, shines her pale light upon this cursed land. Guin's mortal struggle with the wolves seemed like a terribly long time, almost an eternity, but it was not, in fact it was only a half a dozen moments.

 The moon was much nearer the horizon, and the Eye of Yarn hung its clear glow straight east of the summit. With those heavenly lights and the eyes of the night-visioned beast that had been given to it, Guin could see its form as clearly as if it were day.

 It's--

 The one who rescued Guin from the fangs of the ferocious wolves that were roaming around him was a huge desert wolf - so huge that it made even the biggest one Guin had ever seen look like a pup that had just started to grow up. It was.

 And it wasn't even just a big wolf.

 From the head with its spiral bristles on the forehead to the tip of its bushy tail, it was as silvery white as the snow of Asgarn in the north.

"You are ...."

 He did not remember, but his voice came out of Guin's mouth as if they were speaking the same person's language.

"--You're the one who saved me: ..."

 He also seemed to understand Guin's words easily. He gave a low, clear rebuke to the young man, who let out a resigned grunt, and silenced him, then slowly stepped forward to face Guin.

 His feet stepped like a throne on the edge of a rock that peeped out of the earth some distance above Guin. As he loosely faced it, the sense of his immensity and otherness was almost overwhelming.

 He was the emperor of Dogudu Mountain - and it was obvious that he himself was aware of this, and that he was in charge of it. His eyes, beneath his shining white forehead, shone with a piercing golden light, and his slow, heavy movements and the way he looked at Guin with his golden eyes, as if he were examining her, were filled with an indescribably imposing confidence and dignity.

 Guin was now standing in the court of the Wolf King of Dzughetsdo, Mt.

 Guin's amber eyes clashed with the Wolf King's golden eyes. The pure-white Wolf King held his eyes fixed on the leopard-headed warrior without flinching, as if he had to decide whether Guin was worthy of the helping hand he had offered. In his eyes, I could see the wisdom of an old man and the wise understanding that only an immensely aged beast can possess.

 The gray wolves around him did not move, waiting for the emperor's conclusion. Guin did not move either. A strange, breathless silence and tension reigned in the air as the moon hid itself in the clouds for a moment before reappearing to illuminate this mythical scene.

 Then the Wolf King slowly turned his white head to the side. From his mouth,

"Walloon."

 A voice with a low, commanding crack leaked out.

 Immediately, the wolves of Mt. Gutou turned around noiselessly and began to return home by themselves.

 It was, without a doubt, an order to retreat. Some of the younger wolves let out a faint growl in the back of their throats, but they quieted down when the king gave them a glare, and ran back towards the rocks with their bushy tails tucked between their legs.

 In no time at all, the desert wolves that had surrounded Guin in such numbers had vanished. Guin was left alone, facing the unmoving Wolf King.

 The blood was finally beginning to drain from the many wounds he had sustained on his body. His body was tingling all over, and his whole body was heavy with fatigue. However, Guin was still standing there arrogantly, staring back at the Wolf King without moving, just like the Wolf King.

 There was no hostility in the Wolf King's eyes. Rather, after a while, he turned his head as if to make sure that all his men had left, and when he turned his eyes back to Guin, there was a kind of familiar light in them, as if to say that he knew you well.

 The wolf-king walked slowly - very quietly, as if to show that he meant no harm - and slowly descended towards Guin. His long white fur rustled as he moved heavily. He was like a spirit of the winter mountains.

 Its silvery-white fur glistened like frost under the moonlight. As he approached Guin, who remained motionless, the Wolf King stretched out his neck, brought his stern snout to bear, and, sticking out his tongue, licked the Leopard-headed warrior's hand, quietly and respectfully.

 As soon as he felt the cold, rough touch of the tongue, he suddenly felt an electric shock in Guin's strong body.

 It was, of course, something that even Guin could not explain. However, Guin shook his body again and looked at the Wolf King with his Leopard eyes that had a strange and different glow.

 There was a sense of destiny in this encounter, as if it had been predetermined by Yarn's hand. In addition, it was informed not to Guin, but only to the Wolf King's side, and he came down from his throne to guide Guin accordingly, as if to say. Looking at the wise old eyes of the Wolf King, he did not dare to disagree with the fact that he appeared in the form of a beast, not a man.

 Guin stared at the Wolf King in silence. From the surface of the hand that his wet and coarse tongue gently touched, something mysterious, something like the spirit of a wild spirit, flowed into Guin's body, and served to make the fountain of life in Guin overflow again. and the dryness of his throat were disappearing.

 Instead, a primordial and inexhaustible life force pervades every part of his body. Guin gently raised his hand and placed it on the Wolf King's large, bristling head.

 The year-old beast did not move. As if it were a necessary procedural ritual, it held Guin's hand on its head for a few moments, then quietly removed its head, licked Guin's hand again, looked into Guin's eyes as if to say something, then turned and walked away quietly. He turned and walked quietly away.

"Oh ..."

 Guin involuntarily started to run after him, but when he got a little farther, he stopped, looked back at him as if to reproach him, and then started running again, so he stopped. It was evident that the Wolf King had some business to attend to and was leaving this place, but that he intended to come back soon and wanted Guin to remain where he was until then.

 The pure-white old wolf leapt lithely with his huge body and quickly disappeared into the darkness. Seeing him off, Guin looked around and sat down there. Although he was very tired and weak, he felt strangely uplifted and refreshed as if he had just woken up in the morning.

 Stretching out his arms and legs as comfortably as he could, but remaining alert and ready to respond at a moment's notice, he thought vaguely of the wolf.

 There was something transcendent about the beast, something bestial and mysterious about it. Even if it had suddenly transformed itself into an old man with a long white beard in front of his eyes and announced that it was a spirit of the land, but that it had taken on this form for some reason, Guin would not have been the least bit surprised, but would have been convinced that it was so.

 At the same time, however, there was also a kind of inexplicable beastliness in his body language and the deep, faithful color of his eyes that clearly conveyed to the viewer the nobility of his wildness and beastly soul.

 That wolf king was pure white, Guin thought. I know the story that when the desert wolves were still in the desert, they were pure white, snow-white and beautiful. After that, as they were driven up to the rocky mountains, the wolves changed their appearance to dark gray, reminiscent of sinister visions, but they still occasionally gave birth to white pups as if they were ancestors, and the pelts of such white wolves, if they happened to be caught by Semitic hunters and sold to civilized countries, were said to weigh nearly ten times as much as the wolves themselves. If the fur of such a white wolf were to be caught by a Semitic hunter and sold to a civilized country, he would be paid almost ten times its weight in gold.

 The old wolf king might be one of them, Guin thought. But even so, the wolf king's body was too large, too much beyond the norm for a Nosferus wolf.