Cedar Sweep Oh man, please don't go.

Things had not changed much since the group had settled in the sweep. Revui boasted new wounds, most which would scar over without proper care, but they were hardly necessary to begin with. In both instances Revui had let his rage overtake him in its entirety. With the first battle, against the rawboned ghost that led to his jaws clasping a spindly leg, he'd come away with a dangerously angled scar to his cheekbone. Had the hit been any higher he might have lost an eye, or come away looking more like his father. The other fight had been utterly pointless — the group had not yet claimed the sweep in earnest, yet the eager boy had seen fit to face-off against a rogue, leaving one of his forelimbs cut to ribbons and scored across the wrist.

It was his forelimb he tended to most frequently. It was easier to keep his wrist clean, and so the wound had half-stitched itself closed already. He should have known better than to charge face-first in to the Blackfeather girl — better yet, used his words with the red-coated stranger, not his teeth. But words were not his way. Revui wished to prove himself as a warrior more than anything, but each time he attempted this, he came away wounded.

Hydra's lesson drifted through his mind, souring his mood. He did not feel as though he fit among these strangers. They did not fight the way he did, they did not crave battle the way he craved it. Thus, as the boy settled against a snow bank and began to clean at his forelimb again, he found his mind wandering to the wolf that he'd chosen to serve: @Issun. What had caused him to throw his alliegance at the dark boy to begin with? What the hell was he doing here?