Wolf RPG

The long shadow crept along silently, watching and waiting for something yet to be seen. His yellow eyes darted back and forth, and the wild animal appeared paranoid—bothered. His one ear twitched several times a minute, flicking as if a flea or fly was agitating him; the rest of him moved like a fluid, black river of power and savagery. Dark fur rippled in the moonlight, mimicking the rolling motions of his muscles as he loped steadily forward and moved quickly in a manner that suggested he had a destination. More than anything else, Haunter looked incredibly dangerous.

The pitch monolith froze as a twig shifted in the midnight undergrowth. His gaze leered for the source of the noise, spine moving in tense waves as he prepared for the show of an enemy. A foraging badger snuffled through and the wolf moved on again, knowing better than to tangle with the smaller omnivore... Then again, Haunter's blood was boiling; his testosterone was roaring and the male in him was itching for a fight.

He hadn't gotten ten steps away before whirling around and viciously attacking the nocturnal creature. The battle was bloody, short-lived, and Haunter emerged with little else than a few scratches on his face that were bleeding now, but would become invisible again in the coming days. He carried his prize by the back of its limp neck with a strictly possessive quality, as he continued to stalk the Creek's borders with murderous intent.

Swiftcurrent Creek was fewer in number after the departure of Jinx and her followers, and the pack was undoubtedly weaker for it. Taken from them was a powerful beta and an experienced healer, as well as a few other subordinates of measurable worth. Tuwawi didn't exactly know how to feel about this, emotions stunted by a trifecta of equal admiration, disdain, and love for the Shearwater beasts. However, the pit in her heart told her that it was indeed sadness she felt, self lessened by the absence of these wolves.

Yet, the small void of grief was filled when Njal returned from his mission to visit the Plateu. Immediately husband and wife had become reacquainted, reinvigorated by each other's presence, and explored one another into the twilight hours of the red night. Even now, ecstasy still worked its magic within Tuwawi's mind. The memory of her mate's touch still fresh on her brain, coupled with the dank sickly-sweet scent of their union which still clung to her tussled locks. The firewife reveled in it, not wanting to be cleansed of such a rare fragrance too soon. She felt strengthened by their coupling. More alive than ever; and even now she sought her platinum northblood out again, after having feasted on a small catch of rabbit and vole.

What she didn't expect to see was a looming specter in the distance. She had inadvertently crossed Haunter's path as she forged a trail back to the Sveijarn burrow. His swagger was mighty; a limp — and certainly dead — thing hung from tense jaws as his patrol continued with an odd strain. His energy was dark and enigmatic, marked by the small beads of blood pooling between ebony hairs. Tuwawi's pace slowed as she observed the beast, unsure of this strange, harrowing nature.