This is the backstory of a nifty little wolf who seems to find more trouble than he's worth...
Throughout the various tiny feudal kingdoms that dotted the country there was one family name that made one raise their ears and sit a little less comfortably - the Shosa clan. For generations the Shosa clan has ruled over the majority of the Eastern lands and brought both great peace upon some, great despair upon others. Following traditional Pack Hierarchy the pureblood Snow Wolf family has always borne the two parents at the very head of the clan (Alpha Rank), the offspring at the Beta Rank, the various sub packs kept to maintain blood purity in Subordinate Rank and the various staff are kept firmly underfoot, in Omega Rank.
The Shosa clan has always had a healthy respect for the arts of the world and in fact keep themselves away in a beautiful ancient Chinese style imperial palace - naturally retrofitted to fit the times of course. The Shosa palace remains hidden atop a mountain deep within a bamboo thicket. The training grounds - where all young Shosa clansmen are required to master at least one combat discipline be it magic or physical - is located further up the mountain where the snow falls. The legend that all Shosa clansmen are accompanied by fresh snow remains alive even to this very day.
In all of the Shosa clan's history there have been upstarts and idealists who do not follow the strict traditions of the family and in bearing these deviant values hold nothing of the wealth and power that would have otherwise awaited them. Oe such upstart was the young Enigir...
He gazed out into the cold outside with his head nestled in his palm. His young body was nearing adolescence but already was showing curious signs of growth. Already the young white pup's body was at an adolescent shape and size. so too was his mind - both aspects of himself that came as one of the blessings of the Shosa clan's strict living regimes. He sighed at the bamboo outside, at the stray snowflakes that were strong enough to glide so far down the mountain. The flakes that were fortunate, too, to have avoided such calamity as colliding with the greater mountain.
"We are like this." Enigir murmured softly into the wall. His warmly decorated room - all red designs on a gold background, with a bamboo plant growing in each corner - ate up his voice before it could reach the hallway. "We are viewed as strong and beautiful, as cold and cruel. Yet we are fortunate, too, to have been born into THIS of all the clans in the world."
His green eyes were sharp and cold. They were half open yet nonetheless with this bored expression still drilling a hole into the window. Not tied up by the red and gold ribbon on the windowsill Enigir's long white hair flowed down to his tail which was equally beautiful. Over Enigir's body was naught but a simple towel - he had been bathing in the hot springs before yet one of many hundreds of advisors had politely walked in and 'advised' the young wolf to leave the warmth.
Enigir loathed 'advice'. Because the advice of anyone on the Shosa clan was most definitely an order, absolute in nature. So too were 'questions' simply a polite and euphemistic way of looking at 'demands'.
Enigir rose lazily, the towel unwrapping itself and falling at his feet. The handsome young wolf turned to his bedside cupboard and from within drew forth his chosen garments: an elegant blue top and some fine silken pants of a stony colour. Thinking twice about leaving his room with his hair not somehow done up Enigir quickly snatched the red and gold ribbon from the windowsill and hurriedly tied his hair into a ponytail - nothing fancy but nonetheless he liked the look. He wondered why all males but his amusingly bald bigger brother had such effeminate hair. Some mornings Enigir would not speak to his parents until he had fully woken lest he call his father 'mother' and receive a beating for it.
Striding into the hallway Enigir made short work of the lengthy West Wing that had even the long term staff gasping for breath at times. He paused politely by his father's door after having wasted a good six minutes stopping and bowing deeply to his betters, teachers and higher siblings.
"Enter." Came the imperious voice of Enigir's father.
(Enigir, actually) Enigir thought as he watched the huge wooden doors swing open. He lamented not being able to make such cracks within the walls of the Shosa Palace.
"What is it, boy? I have precious little time to speak of such trivial things as your whims." (And yet you've all the time in the world to make speeches of simple conversation, dear father) Enigir grumbled internally as he said:
"I wish to - ."
"I know full well of the things of which you wish, insolent pup. You desire to take the afternoon off from your training so that you might travel down the mountain - ALONE - and sate your whims and money on the town below."
"Your permission, father?"
"Not granted." The head Shosa grunted as he shifted a pile of paperwork out of the way. Behind him stood a stage and upon it lay a plethora of bookshelves, each lined with the greatest books and scrolls the country had to offer. The two aides standing on either side of the desk looked upon Enigir with loving bemusement - a look which only a Shosa knew to be cruel and disgusted glares.
"Then I shall take my blade and descend, dear father." The man actually looked up as Enigir turned smartly on his heel and tossed a lazy look back at his father. "For all I wish is to meet the people whom you so easily lord over, whatever struggles your paperwork prompts you to say you endeavor. Have you forgotten the nature of our power? The nature of my visit shall be considered by all as an ambassadorial excursion, to ensure the favour of our people remains that way." A long pause. Enigir swore he was about to be disowned there and then, sent out without even the time to collect his blade.
"So be it." Grunted his father. Victorious, the young Enigir strode boldly out of the room, leaving the servants operating the door to cower in what wrath might follow...