Moonspear tell me who to call

Aye, a boy on the run no better nor worse than when he’d left the realm of the Wilds prior. What he’s sought has slipped through his grasps, jaws could clench as tightly as they could, yet it seeps through the narrowest valleys between his teeth. A tease that continues to this day, and one Helios is losing strength to hunt.
Such is that his jaw clenches, discomfort pooling off the awkward yearling’s aura—the end tacked on as if his story is one to craft and mold. Helios sharpens his golden eyes, yet offers no response but a nod.
I offer another body to hunt and defend. Helios would not shy from the fiends he speaks of; there is no need to when a pack thriving on protecting young can be equal in bloodthirst.