Nomad {Editing}

::Chapter 2:: Familiar Strangers

For a moment, Charlie was left speechless. His lips agape, unable to find the words to even begin to convey his thoughts. His head swarmed with a thousand thoughts, but no matter how he tried he couldn't find the will to say them.

Never in a thousand years did Charlie ever think he would ever see his brother again.

He had hoped for both their sakes, that he never would.

Now he stood before a face which should have been familiar, yet they might as well have been two strangers passing in the street. The last time Charlie had seen his older brother, Arthur had been 19. It felt as though everything had changed.

Arthur had always been a tall man, but in the years since he had also grown muscular. A beard now decorated his chin. Yet the thing that had changed the most, was the look in his eyes. As though he had seen things which had changed him.

The two brothers stood like chalk and cheese. One a proud man, with his life in front of him. The other, little more than a broken boy, who had given up most of his hope a long time ago. Arthur well dressed and neat - a proud man, whereas Charlie wore little more than rags - a broken man who had lost everything.

Only then did Charlie recognise the clothes his brother wore. A soldier's uniform. Maybe more had changed then he had initially realised. "What are you doing here?" He spoke with caution.

"Dad wants you to come home."

Charlie let out a sound which couldn't have been described as entirely gentleman. "So dad's lost his mind," he said, already looking for a chance to run. Returning was not a possibility. "Why on earth does he want that?"

Only an idiot would want him back, considering what had happened the last time.

If Arthur was offended by Charlie's words, he showed little sign of it. "Dad's never been fully there, what do you expect of a man in his position. You have to go a little mad with all that power."

Arthur's attempt to change the subject didn't go unnoticed. Charlie narrowed his eyes slightly, "Does he want a noble murdered? A family slaughtered? A city destroyed? Because the answer is no."

He had never held his father in high opinion.

The feeling was mutual.

For a moment, Arthur didn't answer. His jaw simply lay agape as he searched for the words.

"You don't know do you?" Charlie said with a sigh. It wasn't unlike his father to keep secrets, even from his own children.

Part of him wanted to pity Arthur, not that he was really in the place to ever offer pity to others. Yet a stronger urge was to take caution. He didn't know exactly how much had changed in fifteen years.

Whilst Charlie didn't want to fear what his brother's intentions were. Half a life time of isolation had taught him that he could make presumptions. How they had left it, gave Arthur a very justifiable reason to hate Charlie.

Yet there didn't appear to be a shimmer of hatred in the older mans eyes. Though Charlie would have hesitated to call it hope or affection.

Arthur had always been the forgiving type.

Others called him an idiot for it. Charlie included.

After all these years, Charlie couldn't help but admire the older man for it.

It had been years since Charlie could even remember what hope had felt like. Let alone since he had felt it.

"No," it sounded painful for Arthur to admit. For the first time a flicker of anger lighting his gaze, but as soon as it did, it was gone. Leaving Charlie to wonder if it had been there in the first place, or if he had imagined it entirely.

"But I know it's serious, and there is one thing I do know. War is coming."

"War has been here for a while Art, a blind man could see it. Dad may be mad, but he's not an idiot."

Arthur shook his head, serious. "This is something different Charlie, men not coming back from missions. Those who do half torn to shreds, and barely survive a day or so further."

"It's a slaughter out there, Charlie. And if you come home, you might be able to stop good men from dying."

"Dad's losing the war, is it a bad thing? A lot of people want him dead."

That, made Arthur angry. "You'd condemn men to die, all because of a grudge?" He growled for the first time.

"Grudge doesn't exactly cover it," the retort rolled off his tongue easier then it should have done. "More men could die on my return anyway." The last part he spoke softer, in an attempt to control his temper.

Apparently remember where he was, and to whom he was talking. Arthur checked himself. "Could die, it's all but inevitable if you don't."

"That's a huge risk to take." Charlie allowed a slither of fang to slip through his lips. Even now he could feel his heart beginning to beat harder. The metallic taste told him he had perhaps bitten too hard, but he didn't care.

He had caused enough damage to the people he loved.

Charlie would do everything in his power to make sure that he didn't do it again.

The longer the older man stayed here, the slimmer the chances became. I need to get him out of here.

As much as Charlie didn't want his brother to leave, he knew that the sooner would be the better. "Tell father my answer is no," Charlie advanced. His fighting skills may have been rusty, but he had the advantage that his opponent was well aware of his capabilities, and knew better then to push him too hard.

Yet Arthur didn't move from where he stood. Firm as a statue, and almost as expressionless. He shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid I can't take that as an answer Charlie." Something flickered briefly in his eyes, sadness. Before Arthur lunged at his younger brother with everything he had.

Before Arthur reached him, Charlie had reacted in a panic. On four legs before remembering shifting, he skidded left to avoid a blow which would have knocked him clean out. He's gone mad. Charlie's eyes widened as he dodged beneath the table in an attempt to evade the pursuits of his brother, only to find that even here he wasn't safe.

Not yet shifting, Arthur had his hands on the blade of his sword. Hitting out with the hilt instead, his intention to knock the younger wolf out, not kill him. It was of little relief to Charlie.

One wrong move and the battle would be over, and Charlie would be back to the darkness which had tormented him the night before.

If wanted Arthur to get out of this alive, he would need to act quick.

Growing tired of this cat and mouse game, Arthur shifted. Into the grey wolf that Charlie could remember playing with as a pup. What felt like centuries ago. Yet there was none of the laughter or the play this night, only anger mixed with fear. Of all the opponents Charlie had come across in the last decade of his isolation, this was the one he least wanted to face.

Backing away as far under the table as he could go, until his tail brushed the stone wall behind him. Charlie waited, poised to strike when the opportunity arose. His breaths coming in pants, tired already from trying to keep a grip on his humanity. He wouldn't get a second chance, if he wanted to get out of here. He'd have to do it fast.

The moment Charlie saw his brother stumble, he leapt forward and threw himself at his brother.

With the element of surprise on his side, Charlie drove his brother to the ground. They came down with a great crash, a tumble of fur and fangs and claws. The brothers tore at each other, both trying to force the other into submission.

Yet in spite of his best efforts, Charlie hadn't fought a true opponent in years. Arthur had the upper hand of being able to give it his all, without fearing what might happen in doing so. After a few moments of skirmishing, the older wolf was on top and shifting.

The last thing Charlie remembered seeing, was the hilt of Arthur's sword coming down on his head.