Dragoncrest Cliffs i thought i was different but it seems i’m just the same

there was a chilling feeling of purpose in the limbs of the wildling as he stalked close to his mother's wiry frame. his head was held low – the wild furs along his neck and shoulders stood like jagged quills against the grey backdrop of the sky – and his youthful muscles rolled beneath the coarse hairs of his coat. after he had heard that his mother was convinced the cliff wolves had stolen rosalyn, he had braced himself for their action against them. though he had not met the corsair woman, he was prepared to clash with fang and claw against any who had threatened his pack – his blood's pack.

with a savage expression and bristling hackles, the young boy trailed alongside the sea witch. his hawkish yellow gaze darted about for signs of anyone else. the scent of their pack was heavy against his flared nostrils. he felt like an alien; they didn't belong there, but he knew that they had to try to do what they could to retrieve rosalyn. if they didn't tend to their own, then illidan would have made himself into a liar to firefly.

so, he followed and waited for the command that would allow him to release whatever rage had festered and grown within him.