Broken Antler Fen last smoke before the snowstorm

his name was sounded from behind him, and the wild creature turned himself swiftly to see the greyscale figure of his sister barreling toward him. some ways behind her was the stoic frame of the dark thorn – his lightless eyes seemed to watch with calculated precision for a moment to strike. there was only a second of time for tusk to watch his brother before he was required to make himself a defensive stance to prevent quill from crashing his frame to the earth. the wildcat made wolf turned himself into a low-hunkering prowler with a dangerous gleam in his gaze. he was eager for her to meet him, hoping that their spar would bring life to his limbs.

turning his frame so that he was sideways to her, tusk prepared for the inevitable assault. though he was capable, there was never any true brutality to his actions against his siblings. tempting as it was to find his teeth latched to the flesh of another, that did not include his own blood. aside from this, the wildling was more lean-limbed than those who boasted themselves as powerful warriors. savage as he was, tusk simply did not posses the brutal strength that others did. instead, he had made a comfortable place for himself in the category of 'quick, but deadly.'

not a bear, but a devilish cougar.