Shimmering Sands [m] Hosts of the Air

For some time now Chaudry had wandered up and down the coast, little direction in mind as he traveled West from his home, Eastwards to a pack, and the West once again to check for further settlements.

The scent of blood was first to hit his nose before his eyes ever laid upon the scene. Sands coated in blood, a group of men the victims. The scent of death was a familiar one, and Chaudry did not find himself phased.

He only inspected the scene momentarily, and coming across a scent that had begun to trail away from the area he followed it. His hulking form prepared for a fight, eyes that could only belong to his mother scanning for a perpetrator - or a survivor.