Burgund believed in fairies and curses… once. When he was young and naive. When his mother still lived and his village stood safe.
The village of Arc was small, simple, warm, full of love, and always smelled of fish.
Burgund used to listen to stories about the curse, about fairies, and other worlds. Whispers around fires told to young cubs who still believed the world held a little magic.
But Burgund outgrew those stories quickly.
Or so he told himself.
When the wolf clan crossed into the southernmost parts of the Midlands, seeking to expand their territory. The small fishing village, remote from the protection of the bear warriors, was the perfect target for the wolves.
The Silver howl warriors ambushed the fishing village and left destruction in their wake. “Burgy boo, stay in this fishing basket my boy. They’ll never smell you here. Don’t come out. You hear me love? Don’t look.” Said Burgund’s mother as she stuffed him in a fish basket and hid it as fast as she could.
That was the day Burgund stopped believing in fairytales.
And started believing in strength.
He would never feel small again.
Never feel helpless again.
Never allow anyone to take everything from him while he stood powerless to stop them.
“Treaty be damned. Those wolves don’t pay no mind to treaties… to lines drawn in the sand. No respect.” Blade said as he spat. The bear’s chieftain walked inspecting the remains of the village. He heard rustling in the fish stand in the market ruins.
In a village full of blood and death. Something yet lived.
“Well I’ll be damned. Hello little warrior.” Blade said as he scooped up little Burgund. Burgund was in his bear form trying to fight the chieftain. “No need to fight your chief boy. No need to fight.”
Blade had spent his life leading warriors. He had never found the time to build a family of his own, never raised pups, and never expected to. But when he looked into that basket and saw a frightened cub alone in a world that had shown him nothing but cruelty, something in Blade changed.
“Come on little warrior. You’re OK. Your chieftain will make sure of it. I promise you that.” Blade said as he carried Burgund.
Blade made himself a promise. He would turn that cub into the finest fighter the bear clan had ever known.
Burgund did not waste the chance he had been given.
He trained relentlessly. He followed Blade’s orders without hesitation. He became a force that few dared to challenge, destroying anything that stood in his clan’s way.
In time, he earned the mark of a bear warrior.
“My boy, you have become the warrior I always knew you would be. I saw the fight in you when you were a wee cub. I’m proud of you, my son.” Blade said with pride as Burgund received his warrior mark.
Gilda, the chieftain’s wife, watched silently with pride.
“Do not weaken this boy by such acts of love. He is not your son.” Whispered Gilda to Blade as she sat like a statue at the head of the feast table.
“The hell he’s not! Look at him! He’s OUR son. Drink Gilda. Drink and celebrate with us!” Blade said, laughing unphased by Gilda’s remarks.
“Someone needs to be sober tonight. Let it be me if not just so Burgund could drink for once and enjoy his night. I’ll watch guard.” Gilda said as she left her seat beside Blade and offered it to Burgund.
“Drink boy. I’ll watch over us. You have the night off.” Gilda said to Burgund.
Indeed Burgund had a harsh beginning and it made him grow into a harsh and short-tempered warrior. A bear who kept others at a distance and had little patience for friendship. He had learned that caring for someone meant giving the world another way to hurt you.
But when Burgund earned his place among the clan’s most elite warriors, he found something he had never expected to find again.
A family.
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