Swiftcurrent Creek all that remains

All welcome but attn. @Lethe :-)

The winter dawn broke through the velveteen darkness of the partially cloudy sky, shattering the darkness Nevermore glimpsed at through the breaks in the dark clouds as they drifted across the sky, obscuring the sinking moon and it’s stars. Five winters now he had been through, idly he smirked devilishly at the consideration that it had probably been colder than this the day he, and his littermate Poetic had been born into the world. Hell had surely frozen over that day. Creatures spawned in Gem DeMonte’s wandering youth, abandoned and unwanted by the man that had created them. He was dead, froze to death, miserable and alone Nevermore had heard. There had been no pity shared when the words had breeched into the demon’s mind, no sorrow. Grievances had been put to rest, made peace with though they had never truly been forgotten. It wasn’t exactly like Nevermore could not relate to the need to wander. In that respect he was rather akin to a Gypsy, unable to linger too long in a single place. This had been such since he had been old enough to venture out on his own. The infamous DeMonte wanderlust was no stranger to the swarthy, typical DeMonte male. Through the battles, through his mated life to a beautiful Princess, exotic like no other to him, with whom they created four children, some exotic like her and dark like him, where he had stayed despite his wandering urges for a good two years, leading the pack at her side as her Enforcer (and Alpha Male), to the battle that he had lost his right eye to a ambitious youth who aspired to fight him for crown and Adyssa’s love. Nevermore had mercilessly slaughtered him, but had confessed his crimes and though they had been seen as justified he had left, nevertheless.

He had spent too much time there. Became civilized and the feral side had came back in the most violent of ways, ending the life of a boy with too much ambition and pride.

He knew not the name of the lands he now trekked across, only that instinct told him to find a pack to survive the winter and lay low. If he could manage to get himself into a pack, at any rate. There was no need to be overtly picky, and while he was among their ranks he would contribute all he could. He was still a capable hunter, and a more than able warrior, even if he was missing an eye. It had been hard to adjust too at first, but he had learned to adapt and overcome. He hardly noticed he was missing an eye anymore, until someone spent too long staring at the empty eye socket and scar that slashed through it. Tall, and large swarthy frame drew to a stop as he sniffed at the snow that crunched beneath his paws. He was close to pack borders - not close enough to raise instant hostilities, he had a proper amount of distance between the territory markers and himself. It was as good a place to start as any. Lifting his muzzle into the air, he let out a call of interest in the pack, breath spilling from his lips in furls of white steam before he cut off, and waited, eye of brilliant mahogany brown scanning the lands, ears thrusting forward atop his skull listening for sounds, nerves alive at the prospect of approach.