wrath

This could be the shortest thread in existence... haha.

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A breath of wind carried the scent of a pack wolf to the ashen male and his limbs stopped, holding him erect and stock-still near the reeds. A heavy huff dropped from his lips and he turned his attention to where he assumed the other wolf to be. Lurking on the other side of the border marking, staring solemnly into the water that trickled from within their pack out into free territory. Kierkegaard peered at the strange wolf with a scowl imprinted on his gruff features. The wolf beside the water seemed as though he was troubled. Had Kierkegaard known how to be socially acceptable company, he would have spoken up in inquiry. As it stood, however, the Sairensu male was like many in the bloodline before him: tameless. He had not crossed pack territory, and the stranger had not opted to speak to him, so he turned his head away from the other wolf and back to the path ahead.
The creek required him to cross in order for the ghostly figure to continue his hike. Taking a shuddering step into the frigid waters, a quiet growl fell from the ashen male’s lips and struck the air. The fur along his spine and nape rose upwards in his discomfort. Goosebumps were beginning to rise along his flesh like trees scattered throughout a forest. Kierkegaard should have stopped before lowering his rear hock into the icy depths, but his stubborn determination drove him forward, and when he felt his injury as it was ravaged by the frost-bound water, the pain was overwhelming.