On a hilltop overlooking Edinburgh, with the wind blowing cold and brisk out of the highlands in stark contrast with the warm summer sun bathing the rolling grassy landscape, the waters of the firth rippling and dancing as the waves rolled in off the open sea while the rays shone and reflected from whitecaps and currents, he stood. Watching. Sensing. Waiting. For he knew the one was near, the one like him…the one he’d been seeking without ever knowing it, for many a year.

It would not be the first time he had met another like himself. In all his wanderings, from the tribal savannas of Africa to the ancient cities of Europe, from the crowded streets of Bombay to the snow-capped heights of the Tibetan Himalayas, from the vastness of Siberia to the equally massive and intimidating jungles of the Amazon, he had encountered guardians. His mate Ingonyama, a mhondoro of healing and the weather…the Particular Abhik who was his Kenneth’s ancestor…another tiger in Russia, a sensual panther in South America…they were all, in one form or another, guardians. And now, he had found one right in his own backyard--although not from here. From…far to the west, he sensed. From the very place he had passed through on his journey to the States, in the northwestern, forested mountains…in some ways, not so different from the misty highlands he called home, and so adored…

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, Nieve Urquhart, once-king of the Fey, guardian of the British Isles, mage extraordinaire, and warrior paladin of Scotland, strode unhurriedly but with purpose through the susurrating grasses, his paws as always bare so that the callused pads could rub and clench against the warm dirt beneath his feet--so that he felt in touch and one with the land. Clad in full Highlander regalia, decked out in his longest kilt (for such a meeting he must be proper, stately, and appropriate for a public place--the rest could come once they had become fully acquainted) with matching tam, his pristine Jacobite sark gleaming like ivory in the sun as its sleeves billowed and flapped in the breeze, his sgian-dubh sheathed at his waist rather than on his calf as he did not carry his Claymore today, sporran bouncing gently atop his groin (and naturally enough lifted up rather prominently by what lay underneath), he adjusted his glasses atop the bridge of his nose, fingered the Celtic knotwork that held his braid tied in place, and focused.

Yes, there he was…the coyote he had come to meet, the one who had drawn him home, drawn up into the highlands which would always hold his heart as much as any of his mates and lovers, the highlands he had sworn to protect and would die to do so. Handsome, soft-furred, hues of copper and brown brindling his body while hair of auburn sprouted from between his pointed canine ears and eyes as blue as Nieve’s own (though darker, closer to that of tidal pools and lagoons…or even, oddly enough, the darkest portions of his own Loch Ness), he was in many ways perfectly matched to the lion, merely darker in every shade, as if he were merely a coyote counterpart for the Scotsman. And perhaps he was, seeing as they were both guardians.

He could feel it even more powerfully now, radiating out from the ‘yote as he sat there basking in the summer day, with his checkered cloth and delightful picnic basket--could sense it too, read it from Rahshu’s mind despite the fact he did not wish to pry and invade his privacy--the coyote’s nature blazed out at him like the sun reflecting blindingly from the Cascade snows, as shocking as plunging into one of those northwestern lakes in the chill of winter, just as Shasta and everything about his own land, his own protectorate, burned within and broadcast from his mind. The canine was a kindred spirit, literally…much more than what he seemed, either in appearance or in nature.

The lion would approach him, would allure and enchant him as was his wont--not to trick, ensnare, or capture him as more mischievous and amoral fey would do, but to draw him out from his shy, reclusive self. To get more in touch with the beast within, the incredible guardian powers he had yet to use to their fullest as well as, of course, the sexual appetite which so badly needed to be released. But also, to impel him to take chances and risks, to trust and have faith as he had once done with a shy, poor tiger child in colonial India…to wander where his whims took him, to explore, to have adventures like never before, to have a companion he had never dreamt he needed but whom he could not live without.

It was all there, the fires of lust and the enduring heat of love, the wonders of life and the understanding of existence--a cathedral labyrinth leading to an English hedge maze within which a lotus bloom unfolded. It would be Rahshu’s to discover, with him and within himself, as they uncovered and bonded with each aspect of the world, with each other. The journey of a thousand miles did indeed begin with one step, a path that would lead to Nieve’s ancestral home along Cromarty Firth, to the ruins of his people along Loch Ness, and beyond, would begin now…as he stepped up the hill, beneath the spreading limbs of the sheltering tree where the coyote waited, waited to be truly awoken.

He took a deep breath…inhaled an intense musk that actually rivaled his own…fought back the burgeoning passion which flamed within him, that insisted he and this guardian touch and merge in every way possible…and then smiled. He wove the spell, of words and of inner will, that would make time stand still, would lower the barriers of uncertainty, self-doubt, and caution so that Rahshu could be ready to listen…to take a chance and face the risk which was the only way to grow and learn.

"Hello, my friend. It's a fine day for quiet reflection, isn't it…?"

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For the rest of the story (though it is still a beginning), see here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/7423810 .

I can't begin to describe how awesome this pic is, and how much I love it. I showed Rahshu my original Tapestries description of Nieve, right down to all the proper Scottish Highlander garb and the names for each part, and he got it absolutely right. He got Nieve's build perfect, and he gave him the most awesome, kickass, huge braid, exactly the way I've always envisioned it. He put Nieve's glasses on him, which he normally only wears when being a professor but I love how they look here. And he hand-drew the Urquhart tartan from scratch in Illustrator. Talk about dedication!

For the language in the upper corner, that's a language which he invented called Shastise. I couldn't even begin to describe it, how it works, or how he invented it, you'll have to ask him yourself. But it translates to "the divine Nieve Urquhart of the gods, king of the holy fey spirits of the gods and patron spirit of Scotland", with a personal cartouche added on which means "one who heals/one of visions, vision-quests, and dreams". I just wish you could see the full detailed version of this, but it's too big for FA.

Nieve Urquhart is copyrighted to me. Art is copyrighted to  rahshu . Thank you so much for this from the bottom of my heart, and also to  kennethbeltan for assisting you with it.