Moonspear big man in tehran

Sorry if this doesn't make sense! Working eight hours with a concussion is kinda funky. ~_~

His underside was streaked with a mixed red-copper tone, as if the soil had included layers of clay, though it had not been so easy to penetrate as he had worked. The mess did not bother Lazarus as it might have a more vain beast. He cared little for his own appearance, being more interested in his abilities — and the skills of others — to worry over such a simple thing as hygiene. As he stood there regarding his handiwork, he was prideful. He had his head raised and tail flagged like some sort of king, and even went so far as to raise a hind leg as if to mark the den's mouth with his urine, but faltered when he saw the approaching boy.

Initially, he thought it was the Beta he had confronted earlier. The man stood stiffly in place with all four feet on the ground, and was loathe to shift his posturing in any manner, at least until the stranger was closer and he could identify them. When the pale wolf was close, Lazarus realized it was not the boy from before — still a youngster, but different — and Lazarus' posture flat-lined. He was still on-edge about the approaching entity, being naturally skeptical and territorial, but he did not lash out this time.

The stranger's posture was one thing, but his scent was a whole other matter: it was the same as the marks Lazarus had spent the previous day reinforcing (or rather, muddying by adding his own atop them; though if questioned he would stick to his story). This was the dark woman's counterpart, then? No man had tamed her, yet a boy had conquered the mountain? Lazarus inadvertently responded to Charon's greeting with a derisive snort which may have hinted at his thoughts — and to cover for that, he hastily feigned a sneeze with an abrupt shake of his head.

Challenging the Beta had been one thing — Lazarus was not so keen on fighting the young Alpha, at least not yet.