Purpose. It was something the young boy lacked in life. With never knowing his father and now losing his mother at such a young age, he never did get the bonding he so desperately required to become a functioning member of the Wilderness. Whilst his siblings were off doing who knew what, clearly not bothered by the almighty not being there, Death kept to his own. He observed the world from a distance, feeling life creep by beside him as it went on without the boy. The feelings were deep for a kid his age, but he wasn't quite a regular kid. Something was off about him, though everything he did came to him as breathing did to others. No one was there to tell him what was right or wrong.

As he padded along the outskirts of their territory, he thought of how to escape the neutrality of his monochromatic days.

Every once in a while, the boy looked behind him. No one was following him. It wouldn't surprise him if half the pack didn't even know who he was. The boy was not interested in fighting, nor claiming a throne he would be killed for anyway. Death was perhaps the most peaceful of their kind, simply because he felt like it didn't matter to him. Being loved and loving in return were foreign concepts. Perhaps he was completely without emotion, but then what was this pit in his stomach that begged for some kind of relief? He knew hunger, and it wasn't this. How come nothing satisfied him?

Then the shapes of the mist morphed into the shape of another, dark and sinister eyes peering at him from a distance. For the first time in his life, his heart pounded just a little quicker. The apparition spoke, and he was intending to reply. He looked around just once more, to see if anyone came for him. Did he want them to? He honestly couldn't say.

No, but you do. He answered in a monotone fashion, voice hoarse from his life in silence.

Or perhaps he was the lucky one, being able to escape the barely-life he was given here. All the Nightwalkers did was beat each other up for a chance to keep the top spot for more than a moon or so. It wasn't like this concept flew over the boy's head, he was far too observant not to have noticed. This meeting with the stranger of the mist was as close to a conversation he had ever gotten, which meant a great deal to the youngster.

You look tired. He answered bluntly. I'm tired too. He added with an understanding nod, as if he was some kind of little therapist. He tipped his head in curiosity as he peered real hard at the bloodied ghost. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but even the apparition's presence was enough to soothe his nerves. He was so big in comparison to the little Death, even though he'd one day be about the same size or even surpass him. Was this what dads were supposed to look like?

Though the word "everything" would have summed up his grievances with the world quite simply, he felt like the stranger wanted more out of him. His family, his own blood, had abandoned him. They'd left him in some place to die, where he would only know war. His siblings barely noticed him, the others didn't seem to care. He had grown apathetic defensively; if they didn't care, why should he? Death, or "Almight" which he liked better, was an intelligent soul in a broken frame, never to be put on a wall.

He sat, quietly, as the ghost approached to touch him. Only in his infancy, when his mother had still been around, had he felt the warm touch of another. He blinked at this revelation, the slightest hint of something warm behind his cold stare. They say my father is dead. He told with little to no emotion. And my mother hasn't come to fetch me. Not that he had had a strong connection with the woman. It's like I'm not even here. Not really. All was told in a croaky, monotone voice. He truly felt nothing thinking about this, other than exhaustion. He couldn't miss what he never had, and he felt no anger towards the woman that had granted him this suffocating existence.

Well yeah, of course he wouldn't be the only one without a dad. It wasn't something rare, for one's father to die. He didn't know how old his father was, or what exactly had take his life in the end, but he did know that death was all around them. It wasn't for nothing that they had called him that. The dragon-flies he'd hunted with his brother, the animals they had for dinner, the ants they stepped on... But then, why did he feel a connection to the ghostly man that had also had his father pass away?

I think they called him "Ven Fench"... no, more like "Vengeance". He answered, having little to no reference for the word nor its meaning. He had heard mother and the other nightwalkers mention their former leader... He was probably pathetic if he had lost his crown and his life so soon after spawning him.

His brows raised in surprise as his eyes sought the face of his supposed brother, hoping to see a joking smirk or what-have-you. But no. The ghost seemed entirely serious in his statements. Death had no reason to doubt this information - hoped it to really be true, in a way. He averted his gaze then, staring at the nothingness that lay out of the reaches of his territory. He only now noticed that Abaddon smelt different from those he knew. He liked it.

Big brother. I like that. She said, a little softer than he did normally. They called me Death. I don't like it much. It's not a good thing. He introduced himself, probably for the first time. He suddenly regretted not lying outright about his name. He didn't want his cool big brother to call him Death at all.

He looked to Abaddon again as he posed a question. The little brat was quick to answer; Very much.

His own man... really? He looked to Abaddon, something in his presence gave the boy comfort, and his eyes shined with a newfound passion. He wasn't much a man yet, but neither was he a defenseless boy, waiting for his mommy to come get him. The woman was not there for him, he did not feel inclined to be there for her upon her return. If she ever did...

Almight. You can call me that. He said, before getting up and stretching his still pretty lanky limbs. The size of his paws gave away just how massive the boy would become, but for now he was just a kid. A kid that was very happy to have a big brother now that could take him away from the nightwalkers. They didn't care and hadn't cared about him all his life, he knew that nobody would miss him. He would follow Abaddon to wherever the ghost wanted to take him.