Cedar Sweep End Of Nightfire

The piebald creature prowled with a cruel intention; his gaze scoured the territory for a meal, hoping that some passerby would slip through the wood and into a widow's trap. He had been apart from Iliksis for a little longer than he would have liked, but he knew that they had shown more success in hunting alone than they had together. His tactics were so far from his nephew's that it became a challenge to balance the two. Still, he was eager to see what rewards his family had reaped in their time apart.

On stilted limbs, Ithrik sauntered forward, and when he thought he might turn to leave the wood for better prospects, he caught sight of a sad and lonely little figure. A gleaming smile curled the dark leather of his lips and he rasped as his breathing increased with each lengthy stride. When he had closed a majority of the distance between himself and the other wolf, he stopped to sniff for others. The devil did not wish to find himself at a disadvantage when hunting. “Sad girl, what's wrong?” he inquired with a curl of his lip over rotten teeth.