Ravensblood Forest fire blood

Locusts crunched beneath his paws every few steps. The large brute did not acknowledge them. They had come and gone; their lives were no more than a passing plague on their world. What seemed to be bothering him more than the carcasses of the bugs was the lingering scent of brine on the wind. He had always wondered what about the sea had lured Caiaphas. The salt was sharp against his nostrils. Still, the ashen male would remain close to the waters and to her pack.
 
He did not know that he belonged amongst a group of women who used males merely as slaves. Kierkegaard found it difficult enough to blend into the life of a normal ranking system. His time in the ranks of the Spine had taught him very little save for the fact that he was expected to respect those above him. He had hunted for them, though. He had found respect for Mordecai until the golden-furred male had disappeared. It wasn’t long after that that he came across Signe. For a moment, the ghostly Sairensu male found himself thinking of the dark-pelted little girl that he had plucked from the water and taken as his own. She had been good. She had brought to him the idea of having pups. Kierkegaard had – in spite of himself – cared deeply for the inky little creature.
 
A noise pulled the pale man from his thoughts and he turned to cast his head in the direction of a white-furred creature who seemed to be approaching with an expression of excitement on her strange features. Drawing his brows tightly on his head, the male frowned at the sight of the red that splattered her muzzle and followed up to the darkness that was a single eye. Peculiar… her appearance gave off more of a threatening air than her scent. Kierkegaard felt the fur along his spine bristle and he stopped in his tracks, peering at her curiously with golden-orange eyes. His expression never changing.