Swiftcurrent Creek the dyslexic devil worshipper sold his soul to santa

The faintest of smiles worked it’s face to his lips, and despite it being slightly forced, it was sincere. It was strange for him to see her so, well, not like herself. It appeared as if the tiny rays of sunlight that usually bounced off her eyes had slunk into the darkness and he wondered if it was his fault she appeared so lifeless. He certainly hoped not, but he couldn’t see any other explanation for her gloominess.

He let out a sigh at the mention of Durnehviir, tail giving a displeased flick. “I suppose she has the right to be.” Leaders seemed to have the right to do whatever they wanted, which he assumed was part of the perks of being top dog. “Pups?” Now that was an idea he’d never entertained. He was young with what he hoped was a long life ahead of him. Perhaps one day when he was older and craved something more than the wild lifestyle he lived now then yes, maybe he’d start a family. But did he want them right now? “Why do you ask?”