Shadowwyn Moor A newcomer in a new land

The darkness of night enveloped the land, and from this darkness, the shape of a wolf seemed to materialize. Sorin had been traveling for days now, stopping only briefly to rest each afternoon. He had learned long ago that traveling in the day was asking for trouble. Now, he came to stand upon a wide open plain. The vast grassland stretched out as far as he could see, broken only by the occasional trees and jumbled, battered branches strewn across the plain. Sorin wondered briefly about the branches, what could have possibly caused them to be placed in such a disorganized manner. It certainly wasn't beavers. However, he knew nothing of tornados, and so the mystery remained just that to the rugged male.

The mystery of the plain didn't stick around for long though. Soon, Sorin set off into the darkness, seeking to explore this new land he had arrived in. He stalked through the night, using the darkness and the shadows to conceal himself. The clouds that would briefly drift across the moon only aided in casting a veil of darkness over him. While his actions may have seemed sinister to others, for Sorin, it was an ingrained practice, a behavior that had kept him alive for many moons.

As he continued, his eyes were constantly scanning the area around him for prey, or potential threats. Although, as of now, he couldn't see or smell anything but grass. Still, he trotted on, hoping to come across prey that would sate his aching hunger.