Sunbeam Lair and he, of his high comrade sorrow dreaming

He had wandered far from the forest his leaders had claimed, but he had to get away. The trees and the other wolves made him feel suffocated and further fed the ever-burning anger inside him. So, he had left the artificial borders and headed south through the flatlands, moving into the mountains when the scent of the blackfeather wolves grew too strong. He honestly had no issues with a violent run in but thought it might complicate things and so avoided that area. The mountains were quiet and combined with the snow and freezing temperatures, made him feel utterly alone. He preferred solitude most of the time, but if he remained that way for too long, tendrils of intrusive thoughts began to creep inside his mind, poisoning his thinking even more than it already was; these were the times he sought out violence for violence-sake. Usually, he needed a reason, even a delusional one, but when his mind turned against him, he had yet to find any other cure. 

That was why now, as he neared the opening of the cavern and scented a stranger he didn't turn and walk the other way. He wasn't social and didn't care to expand on that set of skills, but he needed a distraction from his thoughts. He moved through the cavern threshold and padded across the stone with cat-like grace, the sunlight catching the shiny blue undertones of his fur as it intruded through the holes in the ceiling. He saw the small, sandy male sitting not far ahead and could tell even from this distance that he bore many scars. He stopped--the other wolf was surely alerted to his presence at this point, at least if he was any kind of capable. With his face wearing its usual blank mask, he waited silently for the other to address him.