Ankyra Sound the horseman

The rage erupted from the young wolf like soda from a shaken can. He charged at Kierkegaard with snapping teeth and bristling fur. The older wolf had endured many a fight. He had sold his body to strangers to be used in countless wars. The ghost was not unfamiliar with hotheaded reactions. So, with a returned snarl, Kierke rose back onto his hind legs and aimed with his front paws to land against the youth’s shoulders and stuff him into the sand. His fiery gaze sprung to life for only a moment in the unfolding of Arrille’s emotions. The mercenary could not help but pity him for all that would surely fall on his back. And he would be expected to carry it or crumble beneath the weight.