Porcupine Ridge For a mother, a brother and me

Noctura, NO! ;~; *Squash him*

To Noctura, a romantic with eyes full of moonlight, peace was a kind of magic. It was almost tantamount to the northern lights, such was its beauty and serenity. It reminded him of Asterr. It reminded him of all things good. And it was thanks to her that he had maintained his peaceful behaviour so far — he had always felt uneasy about his own violent instincts, which were instilled in him by a very savage father, and had not wanted to join a pack given the sheer brutal harm he knew he was capable of inflicting on those who attempted to dominate him. It seemed like arrogance, but Noctura — who was otherwise intelligent — saw it as stupidity. Beyond the magic stood a big, stupid brute.

So he remained quite reclusive in his new pack, through concern that he might accidentally hurt a well-meaning packmate, and he was quietly proud of how well he had done so far. Peace, it seemed, had started to settle upon him. Until that day. The lean brown wolf and Asterr who defied him. The handsome black stranger who tore in from the neighbouring territory and threatened Asterr with deep aggression — he was controlled and controlling. But Noctura was neither. Indeed, all he saw right then was the dark male snarling into the beautiful face of small Asterr. In that moment, the Delta's eyes may as well have turned blood red.

Noctura became nothing. There was no magic, no control — and certainly no peace. There was just the scene on the border, and Noctura himself: the big, stupid brute. Heavy as a young bear and with the limber decisiveness of a killer, his teeth flashed as he accelerated for the black wolf without hesitation or fairplay. He had no mind, he had no sense. He didn't even have Asterr. Noctura had reverted, and any victory that could come next would also spell defeat.