Hushed Willows Strike, little wolf, strike

PP of Phobos with permission from myself, because he is also my wolf.

During his short conversation with Lucifer some days ago, Chaudry had caught the scent of something peculiar coming from the northern most part of the mountains. Familiar, bloody.

Not often did he leave the vale, far too concerned for his maman and the litter Pala carried - but this was something he simply could not erase from his mind.

Paws carrying him through the mountains and into the willows, the snow rained down from above; it was rather intense today. He thought it a good sign. The scent from before hit him quickly; the scent of a traitor. The scent of Phobos.

He wondered what would possess the man to wander so close to the mountain wolves territory, let alone stay this long, but upon his finding of a cave and the wolf within his question was suddenly answered.

Thin, hungry, and with his body hips down looking as though it had been stampeded over by a herd of bison Chaudry felt nearly as excited as he had during his brief night with Pala as he stared at Phobos who slept only a few lengths away from him. He lowered his head, licked his lips; this one was not for maman, he would keep it for himself. The man was sleeping so peacefully - if the giant were to tear out his throat, he would not be able to scream until it was too late.

But, it would not be earned he reminded himself. He narrowed his eyes now, pondering. There had been a pack when they last met, and a man who Phobos was peculiarly close with. That was the answer. Why kill him here when instead he could let him rot at home and punish the man's mate as well? Or at the very least, Chaudry could leave the withered corpse on the pack's doorstep. A 'bonsoir!' from Montagne de Cigue.

Yes. His mind was made up; he would not ask maman this time. He grabbed the half-corpse by the scruff; it was time for another trip to the coast. Phobos would surely wake at his touch, Chaudry could only hope that he was too weak to whine.