Broken Boulder wolves in the throne room

thank you for helping me out with my trade! ♥

vilkas's internal clock tells him that it's early even as a thick cover of overcast clouds conceal the myriad of colors he's used to seeing as he dutifully patrols; not that he takes time to appreciate the brush strokes of pastel colors mother nature uses to paint her dawn touched skies. to appreciate things like that ...it takes a finesse that the raptorial firebrand does not possess. in the beginning, things are quiet and much the same; again he thinks that the sanctuary is lucky that they are rather secluded at the very northern tip of the wilds. ...things were quiet and normal until they weren't. the scent, still fresh, prickles at black, leathery nostrils that flare as he pauses to bow his head and sniff at the borders. his upper lip curls back from his teeth as his salmon pink tongue draws across his teeth and jowls as he re-directs himself with a sharp movement and a low rumble in his throat.

the firebrand pursues the scent trail, hackles bristling along his nape and spine the closer he draws to the trespasser. everything in vilkas is geared towards hostility, his muscles screaming at him to attack as the trespasser comes into view. seaweed green gaze locks onto the trespasser and the firebrand visibly struggles between instinct and alarian's laws and the sanctuary's way. initial hostility and aggression is not their way because this trespasser could be in need of help. vilkas resists the urge to roll his eyes at the thought. a trespasser was a trespasser regardless of reason for it.

vilkas lingers back, sticking to the shadows though he makes no moves to be discreet and is not necessarily seeking to hide. vilkas wants the trespasser to know that he's there even though he does not yet desire to make contact. for the moment, the firebrand is content to shadow and watch.