Hideaway Strath There Are Monsters

treat every wolf as the last wolf.
his mother had incubated it in his brain winters ago. in time, he would accumulate power not only in body but in mind, she would cant to ruined corpse of a grey canine she'd bested for an impromptu lesson, to squash the banes that hunger for their skin. treat every trail the last to be treath, every meal his last, but never forget to be in the present as he can not move on in the past or always have his toes in the future.

his mother also believed there was a truth in wisely picking your battle, as everyone hated a spineless coward, but everyone hated dense spineless coward greater.

as br'er caught on the tendrils of a battle between ursine and dog he contemplates his mother's words. the cry of a female and younger male. he cries for them over the sharp air and sets forth to the strath. the bloody red arrives, in the enraged spirit and littered at the toes of their natural foe and the chests of his own. the man takes up arms and rears on this legs, casting a bellowing roar of his arrival. the black wraith catches his eye as well, yellow teeth bared for the unsaintly mafioso. he briskly strides across the battlefield towards the wolf.

he'd never once stated he'd abide by his mother's lessons.