Luneshale Pass looks like there's no more room in hell for me

another, and another. it is an endless trail of these insufferable canines.

the newest — she speaks of death. his death. there is a laugh of mirth that escapes him this time. it is cold, perhaps empty to their ears. but he catches every trickle of humor within the sound.

do you think I fear death, little wolf? his prey forgotten, he steps over the small body and advances a stride forward to the one that now holds the majority of his attention. the other two are not forgotten, but he will deal with them later. 

and how is it that you believe you can make me submit to your will? I see nothing in my favor that says I should. his very existence aside. but that fight will come when it comes. and he won't be on the losing end.