Firefly Glen such a nice guy, you tell me everything twice

@Midar :eyes:
set a bit after this thread

Numbness settles over him as he makes his way back to Neverwinter Forest. The only feeling that penetrates the thick veil of grey is an increasing sense of bitterness. He tried. He'd done everything he could to make things better with Firestorm, and it'd all been worthless. Just like with Lainie.
He picks his way through the Glen miserably, watching the light fade around him, and wonders why nothing can ever stay good. Maybe I'm cursed, he thinks, shuddering at the thought. Maybe his infant sister had cursed him, somehow, with her dying breaths. Or maybe it'd been the universe cursing him for such a sin. He doesn't like thinking about that, though, so he picks up his pace and focuses on getting back. He's sure Mal and Phillip will be expecting him back soon.

He wasn't sure why he had come back here. All it did was remind him of all the reasons he had left. He had no idea where any of his family was, and when he returned back to blackfeather woods, it was still empty. There was hope of finding Alarian, something he tried with much difficulty not to think about. So he wandered in solitude, eventually finding himself in a glen he wasn't sure he had ever seen before. The trail of a rabbit he'd been following had disappeared under the blanket of fresh snow, and Midar had given up the hope of finding a meal today. He wasn't hungry anyway; he was really only eating because he wasn't sure when his last meal had been. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt hunger or any emotion really other than an all consuming rage that sprang to life in his chest, usually with no obvious provocation. The rage would pump through his heart and burn through his veins, scalding every inch of his body. It would continue to burn inside him until he found some way to sate it; violence was his method of choice usually.

He had settled under the first tree he found, clearing a hole in the snow big enough for him to lie down. It was quiet, and he watched his surroundings, alone for a while until movement caught his attention. His violet gaze was glued to what he eventually could tell was another wolf, following as they moved across the glen. The stranger moved with purpose, like they had somewhere to be. The beast was envious of that. He no longer had anyone waiting for him. The thought made his chest burn and before he knew it, he was rising to his feet. He walked out and stood in the other wolf's path, staring at them coldly as the distance between them got smaller and smaller.

The shadows cast by the trees seem to cloak the massive wolf that approaches him, but not enough to conceal the ice in his expression. Dread fills him, and for a moment he's reminded of Kratos; that makes him feel worse. But this wolf is different, somehow. The dark stranger holds none of the appeal Kratos had — especially with eyes so similar to the man who'd attacked him for basically nothing. He stands in silence as he studies the other, tail lifting slowly to arc over his back, hackles rising in irregular spikes along his spine, chin tilting up defiantly. He's in no mood to be challenged, even by one who seems the shadow of death itself.