Days at the Teekon Wilds went by painfully slowly for the fast-paced Ostrega, whose greatest entretainment upon setting foot on the vast terrains of the Wilds had been the day he had ambushed an old fox to force him out of the comfort of his own home so he did not have to stand in the cold. It was a despicable act that he didn't exactly take pride in, but if given the option to undo he most certaintly wouldn't. Though the walls were tight and the place reeked of the previous tenant's tangy odour, Ciervo was content to have a place to take refuge in, even if it had meant making another creature homeless.
The rules that reigned over Ciervo's morals were perhaps as twisted and matted as the hairs over his chest, making sense to no one other than him,
But like verses in a bible they were the rules he had chosen to adhere to.
Now, for instance, would've been a good time to stick by his newly obtained safe house instead of following his grumbling stomach into the unforgiving cold that lingered in the air, this time in the form of light raindrops that fell onto his back and weaved through his tousled fur, making the impatient Ostrega curse under his breath as he paced the snow covered floor of the (oh what irony!) Neverwinter Forest.
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