Northstar Vale I can still smell the smoke

diaspora had grown. it was with mild surprise that mahler had received the news of the wounded in their midst; he had not pictured an altruistic heart in stigmata. but perhaps he had been mistaken. no matter; his energies were best placed elsewhere, rather than being expended questioning a decision he truly did not care about.
patrol first; hunt second. as of yet, the gargoyle had come up empty-jawed, and he supposed it was due to the expanded scent of wolf in the area. it was almost as if prey animals did not fare well when there were a greater number of teeth. 
the movements of another's stride between the bare trees caught his eye; mahler paused only a moment before he was trotting toward the other. stride affable enough, though his plume was lifted in hint of his rank. this was a land of men, it seemed, and he would not be outdone.