Boartusk Heights broad-shouldered beast

@Rexxar

 

There was an illness to the air. One that aided to the rough ridge of fur that stood aggressively atop the pale ghost’s spine and shoulders. He had caught the scent of famine. The monster of a creature could not understand his own hesitation in winding his way back to the lands he had known – the lands that had housed him for a short period. Perhaps there was a lingering fear that he would not find what he was looking for.
 
Mos had vanished into thin air. His year long absence had been spent in pursuit of her, though Kierkegaard had returned alone. He knew his sister well and she was a wolf of solitude, much like himself. She would turn up eventually. She could not scorn him for not trying. But a year of searching had crafted the ashen male into a powerful beast of unkempt fur and wicked eyes. He was far more ragged and rangy than he had appeared before. Food was scarce, and while he had known the hardships of a lonely life, he had not quite been prepared for the bite of hunger that ached inside of him. It made him savage.
 
Lengthy limbs carried the ghostly male across the sharp crags that jutted before him. He had never seen these lands before. Where he stood, there seemed to be a fine view of the hinterlands below. It stretched for what seemed like ages. With a huff, he heaved himself higher onto the rocks and breathed deeply to capture the chill in the air.