Boartusk Heights vengaza es dulce

@Agrippina

Qvasir prowled along the rugged expanse of La Muerte’s territory, his amber eyes drinking in the sights of his new domain. The terrain whispered its secrets to him—crumbling rocks, skeletal trees reaching for a pallid sky, and the faint echoes of distant creatures moving within the shadows. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he padded forward, his paws finding their place with a deliberate and almost feline grace.

The air was thick, carrying a curious blend of decay and rebirth, the kind of contrast Qvasir had always found exhilarating. His coat, a mosaic of earthy browns and silvers, blended seamlessly with the muted palette of the landscape, a hunter becoming one with the hunt.

There was a flicker of movement in the distance, but Qvasir made no immediate attempt to investigate. Instead, he continued his leisurely path, his mind spinning with possibilities. His arrival had been unceremonious, the way he preferred it. A quiet introduction, an observation of those who might soon call him ally or rival.