Heron Lake Plateau got a touch like a thorn

Lanky, thin and scraggly, Pippin withheld a snort at her observation of the current shape he was in. Instead, he bent his muzzle down, rolling the grouse in her direction as offering. It was almost painful, giving such a delicious morsel away, but the golden wolf could only hope he could withhold the drool that pooled in his mouth at the smell of its blood once more.

Pulling back, the Ostrega’s ears flicked forward, and he blinked at her, considering her question of his history.

He could have told her how he had watched the Alpha of his birth pack attack his mother with the intent to kill her—and so he had retaliated by going after her son who happened to be in his path. He could have also told her how quickly the mother wolf had turned on him, and how he had barely escaped her fevered rage. He had never seen his family after that, never knew what had happened to them.

He didn’t know when he had stopped missing them, either.

Seemed a bit much—and a bit personal.

“I got separated from my family before I was an adult, and have drifted ever since. I’ve never really joined a pack since then… So I hope I’m not doing this wrong. But I figured it was time to...find somewhere to belong."