I used to whisper to the children

Sitri usually did not travel far from the borders or the homeland, preferring to stay hidden in the shadows even there. He was not a talkative wolf by nature and the brute really didn't know how to hold much of a conversation unless another was asking questions. He could answer those. He had always adhered to the letter the unwritten rule of to be seen not heard and he made that his law.

So the dark brownie stalked among the trees of the forest flitting from one to the other keeping most of himself hidden except for his red eyes, they glittered and gleamed as he traversed among the shadow bidden trees. There were different smells among the leaves and the roots, other wolves many had passed through here and he wondered at their stories, were they slaves like he, or perhaps they were merely passing through looking for adventures and death. Death he smelled it on the wind, and he was becoming restless most definitely he would need to go on a hunt or something soon, the brute was not used to sitting idle.

Stories stories, shadow stories