Ravensblood Forest Death and all her friends

The old man rises, following the Dark Master as he is bound to do. He merges with the other, spryer males that trailed after their dark mistress west towards the sea, towards Dakarai. This reckoning had been pushed back too far, in his opinion. They should have followed after the traitorous wolf the moment he escaped with his whore, but they had waited. Regardless of his feelings, the man loyally follows her, the smell becoming more familiar as they approached, until the stench was too strong to miss.

He is close to Nemesis' side as they wait for their presence to be sensed by the sea-side pack, assuming his position as a senior and experienced male. As the wolves of Teaghlaigh approached, his indigo Melonii optics scanned the gathered seawolves. He knew little of their pack; his fault. But he could quickly identify the leaders; a male and female approached, the female hailing them softly. He nods, regardless of how Nemesis responds. He would be the calm to her storm, the reasonable one out of the two. He knows that he is not as young and spry as he once was, that his power was diminished with each passing moon, but he still could influence the tide of this battle. 

They were here for two wolves only, one of whom he fixated on as he approached. Dakarai, He rumbled, breaking the silence that weighed over them. He does not look to Nemesis, does not ask for her permission to speak. He knows that he will be punished for it later, but he must speak. They must know that he is their main focus, their target. No one else mattered in their quest for retribution.