Blackfoot Forest run

If you'd like, we could fade soon and have another... >:3

The wildness inside of him had always been something to be reckoned with. He was not a submissive creature in the slightest, and the brute had seen many things in his time that would never allow such a nature to overcome him. Kierkegaard was not meant to follow in the steps of others. While he had lent his body to a cause, it made him nothing more than a mercenary for those in need. When it had come to it, the ghostly figure was self-serving, and he was capable of obtaining the things he needed in order to survive. The Demonte-Sairensu line was not composed of tragedies; they were creatures of darkness and would endure.
 
She left him a reminder that – should his reign prove to be unruly and unjust – he would not be welcome in those lands. With a soft nod of his skull, the brute peered at her with careful golden eyes. His expression remained, but he could still scent the need on her body. It drove him mad.
 
Taking a single step forward, the ghost breathed heavily and lifted his knitted brows so that they sat high over his fiery optics. “You have a need,” he remarked with a stern expression. “Should you need it tended to, you need only find me.” A bold statement from a brute who had stolen the spot of leader from her mate. Kierkegaard cared very little if the wolf Aaron was the one intended to bed this woman. He was a creature of the wild and instinct was a fickle thing.