Haunted Wood and the rest be sent to hell

Open to one other Nightwalkers wolf - maybe @Memory? c:

It was snowing out, and the boy blended in well today. Patches of brown and black mimicked the tree bark and ground that was not covered by snow. The only part of him that really stood out was his eyes - red and wide in wonder at the snowflakes drifting down through the willow trees.

He liked this side of the forest, he decided. It was more open, and the tree branches hung down low so he could pad through them and feel them tug at his fluffy pelt. 

Curled tail waved just slightly as he reached up and tugged one of the branches, only to yelp as a small avalanche of snow came pouring down over his head.

Snow? At this time of year? 
He shook the flakes from his pelt and grumbled about Mother Nature making up her mind as he rose from where he had been curled asleep, grateful he had only just begun to shed out his coat. He cocked his leg, relieving himself on small Boulder near the den, before padding in the direction of the pit, dangling his rump over the rim to send a nasty surprise to whatever poor soul was trapped down there. On his way back, he heard the fwumph of a large amount of snow falling and a muffled Yelp. 
Hoping it was valour or one of the pups he chuckled and made his way over, cocking his head at the wolf-shaped heap. "Dig your way out. You can do it." 

The snowfall was... funny, Clarence had to admit. Interesting, too - being trapped inside, but not being scared. It was cold, like the cages, but it wasn't dark. Light filtered in through the ice crystals and gave off a blue hue to the world around him, and he didn't feel like he was suffocating or anything. But it was kind of cold.

Ears perked just a bit at the voice and the boy shifted, obediently attempting to dig his way out of his self-made snow prison. Spotted paws escaped first, then a pink-and-black nose, and finally his entire head, red eyes and flopped ear and all. 

Gaze turned toward the man who'd spoken, thinking it might've been Santiago, but he was surprised when he found brown fur instead of black. He'd never met this wolf before, he realized, though their scents were similar - both lived in this forest. "Hello," he greeted with a smile, still halfway entrapped within the snow pile

He was surprised when what popped up was not, in fact, Valour's dark muzzle and cunning eyes, but a spotted pup. 
He blinked in confusion for a moment then smoothed his features- or at least as well as his features could be smoothed when he had more scar tissue than lips in places. 
"Uhhh. Hi. Kid." He answered akwardly. "I was expecting a very different pup. Who are you?" He smelled like the forest, so obviously was no stranger...but it was a relief to see pup who wasn't damaged, or turned into a mini soldier. Though the scars on the kids face told a different, darker story. Goddamit whoever was involving kids in this hell needed their goddamn throats ripped out. 
The same instinct he had over Valour he wanted to have over this one- after all unless a shewolf was willing to carry pups for him, then leave as soon as they were weaned, he would have no pups of his own. "Where's your folks?" 

Clarence made short work of sliding out from the pile of snow, rolling clumsily onto his side before standing up and shaking his head to get the rest of the ice off his muzzle. The man before him was speaking, and apparently thought him to be a pup. Clarence wasn't sure what age he was, but he was pretty positive he wasn't a pup. Still, he regarded the man with a polite smile, ignorant to the eyes scanning over his scars.

"I'm Clarence," he introduced when asked, curled tail wagging slightly. This guy seemed pretty nice. "We're in the same pack, right? Because I'm supposed to chase out people who don't belong here, I think." He was going to be bad at the guarding the territory part of belonging to a pack, he was sure of it.

What this man didn't know was that Clarence was not a soldier. He was a weapon.

"Where are your folks?" Was he asking about Clarence's parentage? The boy wasn't completely sure, but that was his best guess. "I don't know. Where are yours?" he asked, unsure if that was the correct response or not.

The kid smelled odd, something that Memory only had the faintest recollection of, something far back in the instincts every wolf carried, the scent of something almost-wolf-but-not-quite. Something that irrationally set his nerves on edge. As he pulled himself from the snowbank the scent grew stronger and Memory's voice and posture changed. 
"Name's Memory. And yeah, we're in the same pack. You aren't going to be chasing much of anything if you're losing fights with trees." 
He grinned at the light-hearted jab, nit trying to hurt the kid, just giving him a hard time. He was too open, too eager- he wasn't watching the border either. 
"You need constant vigilance. Watch my ears. See how I'm standing? I'm talking to you, yes, but I'm still...my attention isn't off the border. My paws are set- See? If I need to move quickly, I can." He demonstrated, nodding down for the pup to copy him. 
The question came, inquiring about his family. 
"Dead probably. I don't know. It's a long story." 

The identifying bracelet on his wrist jingled as he shook his pelt out again, red eyes flicking over to the man again. A little laugh escaped him when he realized he was being teased, tail swishing back and forth. Perhaps a little too eager to make a new friend. "I wasn't fighting with the tree," he said in return, as if it was obvious. "The tree beat me up!"

Constant vigilance? Clarence lived in a state opposite to that, but he did know how to do it. Crimson hues scanned the man over, and he copied his posture like a mirror, his tail stilling and his eyes alert. But then he responded about his family and Clarence's brows drew together. 

Were his parents dead? 

"I don't think I met mine," he murmured, his head beginning that annoying, aching throb that it always did whenever he tried to recall something.

Razor sharps parted as he laughed, before the metallic clinking drew his attention downward. It was such a curious, foreign object. He knew what humans were, to a degree, knew their guns and fences and most of all their flesh. The scent made a connection in his mind...wolf-not-wolfs that could kill a wolf for getting too close to human dens and for killing the prey they hoarded. This kid had once belonged to man. Perhaps he still did. 
"If you can't hold off a tree, how do you expect to protect your pack someday? Hm?" 
He knew he was being a bit harsh, and hoped the kid didn't take it personally. He was young and clumbsy- at the age where most young wolves were abandoning their puphood and starting as apprentices. " Next time look at what you grab. Pulling branches and roots is good- it builds muscle in the places a fighter needs it most. But for Fenris' sake watch what you tug on. Be observant." 
He didn't know his family? It was unfortunate, but a story he was used to hearing. 
"Doesn't matter. Your pack is your family. Doesn't matter where you come from or what you done. You dedicate yourself to only two wolves. Yourself and your Alpha. And if your Alpha isn't fit to lead, you make yourself fit to." 

Clarence wagged his tail furiously upon hearing the man laugh. It wasn't often, especially around here, that he could do that. Laughter was one of his favorite sounds in the world. At least, until he noticed Memory looking down at his leg, and Clarence was overwhelmed with the need to hide the bracelet. So he placed his right leg behind his left, self-conscious.

The boy listened to the advice with a confused frown on his face. He was supposed to dedicate himself to only two wolves? Why was that? "What about the babies?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "And you and Santiago and Serem and Ghidorah? Can't I dedicate myself to all of you?"

The fact the kid seemed ashamed of the bracelet piqued his interest even more, but he chose to let it go for now. 
The pup's question made him frown in thought. It had been a lesson Nix had taught him, and if he had questioned it he would have received a nasty bite. 
It made him realise that Nix's teachings were fundamentally flawed, relying on the cruelty and selfishness of others. 
"Wolves come and go. Not every wolf is going to be your friend, and letting yourself expect that will get you hurt. Focus on yourself, strengthen yourself, push yourself forward. And when you are in a pack, respect your Alpha, perform your duties with honor and integrity. But if a wolf above you is unworthy of that position, and you know for certain you will make yourself worthy? Then do not hesitate to end them." 

The boy's frame drooped a bit at the man's words, and he frowned. He didn't want to hurt anyone, ever, under any circumstances. Was that what they wanted him to do here? Because he didn't know if he'd be able to manage it. Clarence also did not want to lead, ever, hopefully. It seemed like a very unfun job. Maybe Santiago would do that better. 

"Maybe more of them want to be friends than ones that don't," he offered, childish optimism creeping into his voice. But still, he did listen to the man, red eyes intense as they settled on amber. "Maybe we could be friends?"

He shook his head almost sadly. 
"Not in places like this, they don't. Wolves in pack like this want one of two things- power or blood." But what about Valour? The kid genuinely seemed to enjoy his company. And Serem, wise and tender, and if he were a man inclined to that sort of thing, attractive.  
He couldn't afford friends. Friends were a liability. Families, loved ones were sentimental and got a fighter distracted or hurt. But how much of that was his own view, and how much was that Nix's pain to bear? 
" I guess we can be friends. At the very least I'll keep an eye on you." 

Clarence shook his head vehemently, squeezing his eyes shut. "Nope! Not everybody. Not me, or Santiago," he announced, then smiled. "And not you either. You helped me out of the snow, so you're a nice person." And in Clarence's mind, that was really all it took. 

"Well, I'll be your friend even if you don't really wanna be mine. And maybe you can teach me fighting and stuff," he offered, as if that was a fair trade, tipping his head to the side with a warm smile. As far as Clarence was concerned, he already had made a new friend.

You're a nice person.

The words almost hurt. "And you're a terrible judge of character." He joked. "If you knew half the things I've done..." He wasn't a good wolf. Not that he didn't try, of course, but there was something fundamentally Wrong with him that made him need to fight. To more specifically, kill. "But sure kid. I can teach you a thing or two."