Seaside Moors meat, blood, and feather

Towards the recently fed wolf, a potential omen came. Darcia was intent on being well-versed in the lands that were around his chosen haunt, so his frequent trips outside the shadewood felt justified as he told himself this. But closer towards the truth was that he wouldn't be satisfied until there were many bodies to surround him at him— those he would look over. Those he would love. So it was loneliness that drove him aimlessly from the vast domain of his forest, and not actual purpose. The sun was unforgiving to his actions, beaming down on his blackened spine like a hot laser, but he found the discomfort easy to ignore when he spotted another of his kind on the flat-lined horizon.

Darcia loped closer, chuffing when he had come near enough to be heard, and pausing so that he didn't inadvertently chase the she-wolf, the small blackbird away. The breeze covered him with her scent, and besides the fact that she was decently healthy, he smelled that she'd been alone for some time as well. His ears pressed forward and his tail lifted dominantly, but wagged with mild encouragement as he waited to see if she was brave enough to approach, or like so many others too wary to come know him.