my head is an animal.

It was nearly nightfall. Somewhere above the dark clouds that littered the sky, stars were beginning to light as the sun's gaze was stripped away and tucked beneath the horizon. The eerie chirp of crickets and night birds began a chorus through the still air, and it was to that song that the giant added paw steps and the shuffling of brush and undergrowth as he ventured out for his ritual night-time prowl.

A deal of time had passed since Andrus's employer had won these lands and taken its inhabitants under her rule, and he had not yet been met with more opposition than a hasty retreat an unfriendly glare from those who had given their loyalty to the foolish yearling who had so unwisely tried to oppose his dark mistress. That was all fine by the great bear who stalked past their discontent without a second thought. As long as they did not rise up against his employer or her little man-pet (or whatever Viggo was), then Andrus could not have cared less. His job was a simple one: keep the peace, and keep the ilk accepting and subservient to Ptarmigan's rule. And if all that took was to periodically let his foreboding, watchful presence be known to the herd, then Andrus would gladly and effortlessly do his part to keep them in line.

A screech echoed briefly between the trees as somewhere an owl ended some useless thing's life. As though it were a cue, Andrus veered his direction more towards the Southeast borders of the territory. There was nothing spontaneous about his moves, for the beast was a machine when it came to his work. Ever since he'd arrived, he'd been systematically exploring every piece of the territory and mapping it in his mind. By the time he was done, he would know every inch; every stream the pack wolves stopped to take a drink at, every rock they'd ever stepped on, every tree they'd ever taken a piss on. He would know where they slept, where they gathered, where they hunted, and where they spent the day in idleness, what time they typically were in each place, and how long they spent there.

There would be no where in the Spine that his employer's unquestioned rule could not reach--no where that her sheep could hide from it. The old grizzly bear would make sure of that. His work was his life, and just like anyone who lived for one purpose or another, Andrus intended to live well.

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