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Domestic Violence
Livestock guardian and tundra wolf blood mingled to create a half domesticated mongrel of striking design, visually beautiful and unique, mentally cunning and brilliant. More wolf looking than his surviving siblings, he was still by far not pure bred, many domestic herding dog traits blindingly obvious. Muzzle was long, yet crushingly thick with a broad jaw, floppy ears and blocky head. Piercing eyes from his father, a fluffy tail that curled up and over to brush against his back passed on by his mother. His colouring was a fantastic selection of burgandy's, auburns and slate grey-blues, the same shades usually seen on a dappled farm dog. Instead of being speckled and mottled, his pelt had distinctive partitions of bold hues, black markings a sharp contrast on a face that carried piecing green gaze and banded around that fantastically fluffy tail.
The beginning of life was a nasty thing, being on the list to be culled was less than easy, death was looming over his head long before he was even whelped. His only saving grace was the farmer's children, a small pack of two legged furless angels begging with big eyes to raise the pups, to teach them domesticated manners. The farmer agreed reluctantly, figuring the children's infatuation would wear off and he could take the risky little beasts out to the back 40 and do away with them cleanly before they grew to dangerous to the family or livestock.
Despite warnings to not name the whining fluffballs, that they wouldn't live long, the pretty male became a favourite of the youngest child and she stuck him with the title "Ulf", unable to wrap her little tongue around the word wolf and explaining to her siblings that he wasn't really a wolf anyway,so half the word would do. Some of the other whelps disdained being titled by the children and so picked their own names, but Ulf carried his name with pride and his own siblings learned harsh lessons over teasing him about it. Honour and pride were important and ingrained through his mothers genetics and as serious as death to the young male. One of his brothers would learn the hard way just how serious Ulf was about such things. Unfortunately for the pups, such clashes were not uncommon, and battles to the death helped bring the number of mouths to feed down as well as secure the rank and pecking order of the remaining youngsters.
The surviving pups, including himself, were scheduled to come to a swift end at about 6months old, when the old farmer had decide he'd put too much into animals who would be useless to himself and a danger to his flock. Ruthless to how it crushed the hearts of his children, he made his intentions crystal clear, those mongrels were to be out down. By 6 months, signs of aggression were popping up everywhere and the farmer was right in the respect that someone was going to get hurt, and the most obvious target was himself. Ulf hated the man with a pure simmering rage, and although he could be gentle with a lamb, the urge to chew the man's face off was pretty intense. The mongrel saw his Girl as the ultimate authority and that man liked to speak to her with his fists. He regretted
Ulf's personality was complicated and yet very simple at the same time. He would never purposely be the hero, but life demanded he never be the villain. Killing for pleasure was unthinkable, harming an innocent wrong, but killing an oath breaker or an attacker of equal station acceptable. He was unshakable in his sense of loyalty, unerringly reliable and truthful to a fault. But he did see himself as Judge, Jury and Executioner.
His upbringing created a few quirks to his nature. He would never ever harm a human child without his own survival or that of someone of great importance being at risk. And he had a ridiculous soft spot for cats, regardless of size, the little girl who loved him so freely adored the barn cats,and therefore so did he,much to the disgust of his favourite sister.
