Lost Creek Hollow a sanguine fog

Heh, yeah," he chuffed, trying but not really succeeding at partaking of his leader's humor. There was a time when he was abound with jokes, but his and his mind were closed to such things. His muzzle twitched as he commented lowly, "That cat needs to die." He believed it, but it made him all the more bitter, because he knew it was a task he could not complete. It had almost killed him once, and ruined him still. No wolf with half a brain would follow him into war against him either.

"Shardul," he spat with a tense, frustrated sigh a shake of his head.