[url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/255163108/0/0]Table of Contents[/url] “Um, excuse me?” The timid words slip out of my mouth like the squeaks of a dying mouse. Show some spine! I straighten myself and lift my chin up, putting on my sternest face. Before I can reassert myself the Vandal twists his head to glare at me over his shoulder. I can see the irritation in his burning blue eyes and hear the disgust in the way he clicks his mandibles together. He towers over me, even taller than Variks. Metal armor clinks over taught, Ether-fueled muscle as he rests two of his hands on the hilts of his sheathed sabres. I feel like a mouse again, now in the jaws of the wolf. Maybe I should go and- “Yyyeeeeeesssssss?” The Vandal slurs, stretching the word into a strained hiss. I wonder if Variks would sound like that if he were drunk. Can Eliksni get drunk? The Wolf banner hanging from the Vandal’s shoulders traces a crescent around his ankles as he turns to face me. He looks me up and down, sizing me up. By my outfit I’m clearly a Guardian, but his harsh posture seems to soften ever-so-slightly at the sight of my Awoken face. I start chewing on my lip again. This probably isn’t one of my best ideas, but I’ve gone too far to stop now. There are few Wolves left who follow Mara after Skolas’s death, and they rarely reveal themselves to the Queen’s Guardian visitors. I had to sit on a crate in the Vestian Outpost for hours just to find this one, a task made even more tedious because I’m avoiding Variks to keep this secret from him. “Yyyyyeeesssssssssh?” The Vandal repeats, somehow managing to torture the word more than before. He doesn’t look happy. “I, um,” I stammer, “I have a request. I need your help with something.” The Vandal’s head tilts almost imperceptibly to the side. He studies me for a moment, and I hear a faint rumble in his throat. Then he speaks, “Yyyyyyyyyyyeeesshh?” How was that time even worse than the others? [i]How?[/i] My Ghost’s voice whispers in my helmet, “Are we sure this thing speaks English?” • • • Sharpened steel stabs viscously into my flesh, sending a spike of searing pain through my body. “Ow!” I whine, reflexively yanking my hand away from the needle and nearly dropping my fabric. “Careful!” My Ghost fusses. He’s absolutely no help. He hasn’t even dared to show himself in front of the Wolf Vandal. I can’t blame him though. Ghosts and Eliksni aren’t known for having the best of friendships. The Vandal rests at a crouch, keeping its distance but still looming watchfully over my much-smaller figure. I’m seated, legs crossed and back against the wall, a small strip of green cloth in my hands along with a makeshift needle and white thread. Or yarn maybe. Whatever, I’m not a string expert. It’s all just string to me. I try again, squinting hard as I shakily guide the tip of the needle towards my target. I jolt and nearly stab myself again when the Vandal speaks, “You…you how…” He struggles for words for a few seconds then uses a hand to touch his cloak, “How learn…Wolves been Mraskilaasan?” “I think he’s telling us to leave,” my Ghost lies, “Let’s leave.” I ignore my companion. I think the Vandal wants to know how I learned House Wolves used to be weavers. “Variks mentioned it once.” The Vandal’s eyes narrow when I use the Judgement scribe’s name, and I regret saying it. Variks isn’t a popular figure amongst his kin. But the Vandal doesn’t press on the matter, so I let out a relieved breath. Maybe he doesn’t hate Variks? More likely, he’s too proud to turn on me after offering his assistance. Eliksni honor is nice when it doesn’t involve stabbing people. This Vandal knows almost nothing about weaving -he had muttered something incomprehensible about being lost- but he’d known where to find fabric and had even made the makeshift needle using a metal rod, then shown me how to start. He‘s not the best teacher, but he’s the only one I could find. The only person I know who does sewing or crochet or whatever is Zavala, who obviously wouldn’t approve of me doing this. Oh, and Eva Levante of course, but she hadn’t crossed my mind until just now. Stupid! Eva would’ve been perfect! I look down at the items in my hands. Maybe this is better. Variks might like it more if I tell him I got help from his kind in making it. I run my thumb over my work. I hope he likes it.