Whitefish River radioactive

The hybrid found it was always easier distancing himself from those he met – he didn’t want any connections or anything tying him to a specific place, and frequently acting as though he was disinterested was his best defense. He had chosen not to travel with his siblings precisely for that reason; the less attachments the better. It was also why the nomad was so animate about not joining a pack – that was just one big attachment he did not need. Since birth his mother had drilled into her children’s minds that packs were bad and would never accept the tainted blood of a hybrid. However, Styx knew that wasn’t the case as it was just his mother’s bitter response to being rejected by the wolf who had stolen her heart. While he knew that there were still some packs who would not accepted mutts like himself, Styx Constantin was still uninterested in joining any pack. There were rules and he would actually have to learn (and remember) names – yuck! Her response caused a thin smile to crack across his lips before she questioned him about local packs in the region. With a soft shrug the coywolf’s bright gaze drifted away from her slender frame, brows narrowing softly as he examined their surroundings absentmindedly. “I’m sure there’s a few, but I haven’t come across any pack wolves since arriving.” Since he started exploring the park there was an abundance of different wolf scents, so the hybrid was positive that there was a pack (or two) lingering nearby. “I also have not searched for an, as I’m not particularly interested in joining a pack,” he added with another shrug as his seafoam gaze returning to the agouti female.