scars

Haha, he's actually supposed to have that effect on people! He's meant to have a dark edge of sorts.

The other male didn't answer the question directly, though his mention of the pack's previous home snapped Wicked out of his queer head space. The yearling blinked, then nodded mutely. When the dark wolf began to lead him up the mountainside, he barely hesitated before trotting after him. His aching muscles protested as they began to climb, yet he continued to ignore them. The longer he lived here, the more he would condition his body to the life of an alpinist.

While he waited for his escort to speak, Wicked paused and glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the meadow where he'd hunted wild turkeys to prove his worth to Nanuk. From here, he could see the swath of flattened grass and earth. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever natural phenomenon had caused that was the same one to force the pack to relocate. He faced forward again, dark eyes gleaming as he anticipated his pack mate's story.