Kintla Flatlands forever in shadows

[mate]!!!!

Atticus was supremely freaked out by the blackened sun. His father had told him something about it when he was a kid but, like most youngsters, he hadn't really paid much attention and now could not recall. It seemed ominous and threatening, and he wondered if something terrible were going to happen. His nerves were raw and he felt hypertense, on edge. And yet, there was underneath that an unquestionable curiosity. It was not often one saw the bright and life-giving sun drape herself in shades of the night, and though Atticus eyed the darkening skies with fear and anxiety, there was also wary fascination in him as well.

As was usually the case, the Blacktail Deer Plateau's ever-dedicated Beta was near the outer fringes of their territory, scouting out game trails and foreign scents -- in particular, those of any trespassing wolves. Was the blackening sun a prelude to war? Ambush? Was it an ill omen of disease or death? Was it a sign? He was contemplating these things when a strange scent came to his nose, and a quick glance brought his pale, frosty gaze to rest on a grizzled old wolf nearby. He was black and swarthy, with the dusty scars and wizened demeanor that came with many years of a rugged life. Atticus wondered if this was his omen, and a sinister growl rumbled in his chest as he eyed the stranger.