Blackwater Islands oh, death

It was a dark form that lumbered toward him as he lay in the sands of the shore. Never before had the sea called to him until he had lost all those he held dear – and only now because the scent of the salt water reminded him of them.. of home. Somewhere, Blacktail Deer Plateau had been eradicated as such in his mind, and the tall sequoias of Donnelaith had replaced it – but they were no more, and the charred ash only stirred heartache and anger within the breast of the swarthy beast.
 
He exhaled gently as the she-wolf stlaked toward him – her form was held with unwavering dominance, and his eyes glimpsed the scars upon her muzzle before his eyes averted properly to her forelimbs – his own muscled figure remained still in his submission, though his muzzle bowed all the more in her presence as he considered her words.
 
Who was he, now?
 
Anore, his mind begged him to say. Begin afresh – Tartok had branded him as such – but they had done so in honor of his father. His late father, who would have been ashamed of him and his inability to protect his family. “Constantine,” he offered then, swallowing the surname of Mayfair – he did not deserve to be such. “I seek a pack for food and a place of shelter. In return I offer my skills – a mercenary, a hunter, a scout – whatever you might need.” He did not seek friends, nor family. Those were gone for good. For now, he sought survival – and a distraction.