Broken Antler Fen this is not the sound of a new man

The she-wolf appeared nervous of him. The inkjet male could see the apprehension on her face, clear as a blue sky. Atlas did not know that it was his size that inspired such a response. Once upon a time, he might have cared more about frightening strangers on the slopes of a mountain. The time away from Moonspear had changed him. The swarthy titan did not care for the feelings of others. Such consideration had only ever shown him disappointment. Atlas could not live his life with the feelings of others guiding his way.

My name is Atlas, so please do not address me as Tavina.

The inkjet wolf offered her a small nod.

I do not live here. My home is in the mountain range there, his nose was drawn to point toward Moonspear, nestled in the far reaches of the stone spine that jutted from the ground. I will reclaim it. There was no other purpose for his return. Moonspear belonged to the Ostregas.