Swiftcurrent Creek leviathan

His paw pads fell heavy upon the ground, slowly becoming frozen as each frosted night swept over the lands. His pace was quick and with purpose, his nose to the wind and his ears swivelling to the tiniest noises of his home. It was maddening to not being able to drop everything and traverse the valleys in search of his son, but there numbers were too few and their neighbours too close to have the creek’s only leader stray too far.
 
Had his other three children not remained in the safety of their home, he would have abandoned all duty to seek out Viinturuth. He could only blame himself for his son’s disappearance—had he not remained within the shadows of his family and away from Durnehviir, he could have perhaps stopped this. And now… did he fail his son more for not having the entirety of the pack search for him?
 
His pace slowed for only a moment. The catch of glowing yellow eyes struck him before the pelt of tawny—they reminded him harshly of Lasher, and he felt the air slip from his lungs for a moment. What he wouldn’t have given to have advice from his father.
 
But Lasher was dead, and the creek was in despair. Constantine wasn’t one to tip-toe on the potential threat the stranger dealt to his home, and so the shadowrunner stalked forward, aiming to cut the wolf off from further pressing up the creek and closer to his home.