The Sentinels From the Abyss it calls me

all welcome, but perhaps @Kjalarr .

Feet of burnished gold walked amongst the new life that had once upon been blackened with soot. Gunnar's snout was pulled downward into a frown as he watched the large trees, fall upon themselves, their black skins wilting and fleeing from what must have been quite a scar. It reminded him of Ragnar's eye, the pulled back skin, but it wasn't as disgusting, bloody or raw. No these trees would be food for new trees, even some growths that had withstood the flames that had danced among them. Oh what a dance it must have been. The red and orange seeking towards the sky, the area choked with smoke and ash. Though it would have been frightening at the time, Tveir had learned long ago, that most of what frightened you was easily mended and bravery took it's place.

He couldn't smell any packs here, though he did smell the movement of many, one smell teased his nostrils unlike any other. It was familiar yet different, aged and edged in something, but of what he wasn't sure. He tried not to think too much on it, content with the knowledge that most he had cared for were long gone, or perhaps they weren't. Were he to see them again, it would gladden his old heart, but he had spent so long on the outskirts looking in. He wasn't sure if he could even function in a pack, a family. Perhaps that was his biological father's reasoning for leaving, perhaps it was the reason Thistle had left, the reason Ragnar had taken more than his mother. A sort of restless of spirit, that never died. 

Tveir slowed to a stop and sat down, her tail curled around his legs and he watched the sun as it began it's descent into the heavens. Oh the stories he could tell.