93 Kilometers To The Better

The commonalities lie in their blood and though one species had long since known extinction, the other bore the scars of memory, permanently imprinted upon their DNA. The Dire, in the year 1100 had called for its release via the human race, silently assimilating into the general population. The Hastings clan had, by destinies awakening, provided the calling for viable hosts to bring about their resurgence. Now half human, half Dire wolf, those of the Dire had quietly evolved, losing much of their sense of humanity along the way. Disdain for boredom, collectively the new species fought for superiority. The procurement of offspring and retribution to any who would see to their untimely demise. Pater Nostras Canis Dirus (our Father of the Dire, Garrison the elder), long since deceased, existed unilaterally on the wind of memory in this, their home, the Highlands of Scotland. Speaking infrequently the importance rang with resounding register. On this particular evening, he came onto the Heathers with powerful relevance. All of the Dire blood knew the winds return meant he’d retouch their lives in some unique way. “Children of the Dire….Hear me now, for we are vindicated! Our children do so rise amongst us motivated to the returning. Let the waterless mountains welcome them. Let the earth sing its melodic song, lulling the infantile into a compliant rhythm with the Dire’s purpose…We are triumphant! Am I known to you all? Aye! For we are as one…We have our resolution…Let the fates gather that which has been divided! So say I. So say The Pater Nostras Canis Dirus, so say I, your Father.” Garrison Hastings the elder