Wolf RPG

The travel past the hinterlands was strenuous at best—particularly because of the season and weather. Still, there was a feeling of dread that rose in her chest, and her gut feeling had never steered her wrong yet—

—they were coming for her. She knew this somehow—and with the soldier now fallen, the best she could do it seemed was heed his latest advice. Trade one gilded cage for another.

The taste of iron filled her senses, and she realized then she had pressed her tongue too sharply to her teeth—grimacing, she stole to taller brush, lavender eyes upon the rising sun, wondering at the chance of a herd coming through the opened field and feeling fatigue pull upon her eyelids desperately.

He knew he could go to the pack where his father now resided, where his half-brother led, but Waxwing found he wasn't keen on that idea. He had spent the last several months tied to his dying mother, and now he wanted nothing more than to wander and see the world on his own. Perhaps some time to himself would help him process all that had happened.

When he laid olive eyes on a pretty thing around his age, Waxwing approached with a woof and an inviting wag of his tail.