Herbalists' Cache called to the skies but she was overcast

Peace was hard to find. Ithrik had never truly felt that he was at peace, in any sense of the term. Even when he was fulfilling the blood-lust in the pit of his stomach, it was only to make peace for the rest of his sins. Their blood would forgive all that he had done and would bring him to his final peace. Until then, he would continue his march for atonement and he would satisfy himself with every life. As if on cue, the Apostle whispered in his ear; he requested another body. Ithrik cast his muzzle to peer over his shoulder, searching for @Iliksis' shape. His nephew would not be far behind him. They were hunting together.

Stilt-like limbs carried him forward. The devil's head swung from side to side with each sauntering step. Without warning, the scent of a stranger wafted through his nostrils. His pace slowed and he drew his skull upward with interest. Another scent joined the first, similar but different enough to distinguish. The vile hound grinned and continued onward until he could peer through the brush and see the two wolves. Both were female and both appeared to have found some peace in the beauty of the terrain. All of that was lost on the hungering brute. His mouth salivated and he cast his gaze to the younger of the two with considerable absorption.

Knowing that his nephew would not be far behind, Ithrik stepped through the brush and emerged on the other side, swaying in place and fixing the women with a savage intensity. Drool gathered in his mouth and he opened his black-furred muzzle to draw a salmon colored tongue over his lips, drizzling slobber to the ground. His fur prickled at their scent and he grew aroused. The young girl would be his mark without fail.