Golden Glade The Golden Boy

Arrille pushed through the light snow, flicking it up now and then with his paws. Huffing to himself as cold air rose up from his muzzle. There was much to, having come back to this place. Much to do indeed. Set down what he had left, rise back up in this land as the 'prince' his mother always told him he could be. Even if she abandoned him years ago, Arrille still found those words high in his mind. A mighty phrase.

Oh, the fights he could wage upon others, the packs he could see, the wolves he could entrance with his looks and whatever charm he had. Arrille thought himself as a prince. And acted as such, with long strides, completely oblivious to those around.