Ravensblood Forest from wars that you waged

sw pack prompt — cache crisis

Never before could Kjalarr recall seeing the caches so utterly barren. In the stead of stores they were filled with dirt, perhaps a few bones but there was nothing substantial for them to eat. The prey, as of late, had been scarce and Kjalarr was quick to jump to the assumption and slap the blame on the influx of packs that had packed close to Ankyra Sound. Too many wolf packs so close together had likely been the culprit of warding off their prey herds that Saltwinter counted upon to sustain them. On few occasions Kjalarr had seriously considered suggesting raids to Caiaphas: that they steal from the wolves that have stolen from them. Kjalarr didn't care if other packs lived or if they died off: their survival wasn't even a consideration. It was his own survival and the survival of Saltwinter that mattered the very most to the viking. Saltwinter mattered to him as, generally, did the wolves that made up it's ranks even if the only one he really knew to any sort of degree was Caiaphas and vaguely James and Maude.

It was the search of food that brought him to the darkened depths of Ravensblood Forest. Overhead they let out their shrill calls but this was a good sign to Kjalarr whom did not see the birds as death omens but rather as a sign that Odinn was watching him, or perhaps even, near. The forest was darker in the throes of the velveteen night but Kjalarr was hardly afraid of the dark. He lived in a world of varying shades of black white and gray. Darkness was his even playing ground in which he was on visual par with every normal wolf. His steps slowed as he shrugged into the treeline, pausing once to sniff at sticky sap that oozed from the tree trunks. His stomach give a slight rumble and for the briefest of moments he was tempted to taste it but resisted. He was no botanist and wasn't sure if it was safe or not and so continued forth, his head dipping to the ground to sniff at the loose bracken under foot, the warm aroma of numerous woodland creatures alerting his senses. The small woodland creatures were not much, admittedly, but if nothing else they were better than nothing. Still, he continued forth hoping for something a bit more substantial for a pack, something larger but within his capabilities of taking down on his lonesome.