Sequoia Coast To drag the past out

Getting away with killing his own pack mate without so much as a word against him was as sweet a victory as they got. Charon could not help but feel empowered by it. Sure, he had killed Nishu Inte because it was best for all — pack, Charon, and even Nishu, whose suffering needed to end — but there was something about the feeling it gave him. He had felt horrified for a moment when he stepped back from the throat that he had severed, a feeling of 'what have I done', but it had not lasted very long and now... Now, it felt as though the gods or whatever higher power was out there were looking upon him with their very own eyes, nodding in approval of his every decision. He was the hand of the gods, chosen child, and nothing could stand in his way. His whole life had been a string of enablers, truthfully, for him to reach this moment. No one had ever stopped him or put him in his place when he demanded more and more of everything, allowing for his arrogance to grow, and took paws and legs where he was offered toes. Not until Dante. And when it had happened, the ugly scars along his shoulder to remind him of that day, Charon had only scrambled out even better, for it had gained him a swift climb to the top, his own mountain to rule over, a flourishing pack, Hero of the Day award and his brother's love and gratitude, and a beautiful partner at his side whose pups he would father when the time came.

His loins yearned for spring time, or whenever else Amekaze would decide that it was time for them to continue their legacy. Children, yes, and an official claim to show the world that she was his and that nothing could stop him. Some stood in his way, but such was the way with every great ruler. There would always be squabbling peasants.

After the deed Charon had grown restless and he decided to trek north, to see how things fared. He knew there was unrest, what with Neverwinter Forest's settling and Ragnar's grave unearthed. Somehow though, the unearthing of the grave, while it had initially pissed him off, had given him less ties with his birth place. As though it was no longer Ragnar's, and therefore his, now that the bones were gone. He'd been angry, but when he had told Flóki it wasn't a big deal despite his own rage over the fact, Charon had begun to believe his own words.

Even though he had never intended to get so close to the pack where Dante resided, there was something that drew him in. Charon did not even know what it was, precisely, that made him choose to go there. Not until he saw Osprey. He hadn't really wanted to see her at all; not since her bitch attitude when he had met her and Mason out in the woods. He had fixed things with Mason — fixed as in, had shown Mason to respect his authority — but Osprey remained a loose end like many others. Like Dante. His hackles pricked defensively at the thought of Dante, and he approached, mesmerised by her. He hadn't felt this way before — not towards Osprey — but today was different. He chuffed to announce his presence. Without realising, he had adopted Alpha posture, his tail and head carried proudly as though he was ruler here, despite being so close to another pack's borders.