Blackfoot Forest tinker tailor soldier spy

okay third and final post from me. You can archive when you reply my friend <3

The wolves of Rosings were soft. At least in the eyes of the ghostly mercenary. He had traveled the world many times and he knew the type. Perhaps there was a portion of Kierkegaard that envied the wolves of the forest. He had never known a home in the manner that they knew their's. He would not have admitted it outright, but it was still something that lingered inside of him like burning embers. They wouldn't accept him into their pack because he was a wicked and vile thing. He was a creature who knew no home and had no sense of belonging to anything but himself. It was plain to see why they would wish him to leave. But as foul as he was, the ragged ghost was also stubborn and he was determined to hold his ground as long as he could. 

Unless he didn't have to. 

The woman wished it, or she would not have sought him out. It was all he needed. The brute would leave her with his young and he would depart the forest with his blood inside of her. Perhaps she didn't realize how awful their fate would be. Without another question, the ghost moved toward her and huffed quietly. The action was a simple one - it was carnal and driven only by nature's need. When he had finished, he did not need to remain behind to tend to her. She had made herself into a pariah. The action had only made her situation worse. So he departed into the forest and left her with nothing but the swimming possibility of ghostly children.