Falls of the Hinterlands I’d love to run away and hide with you

@Dragomir
Tell me if assumptions aren’t okay! I’ll be perfectly okay with editing. :)

Kyn had wandered from his strath and closer to the beautiful falls that neighbor cedar sweep. His tail bobs against his hips as he moves, so many thoughts on his mind. Mainly @Simmik. All of his thoughts are consumed by Simmik. How to make it up to her. What does he have to do? 

His mind supplies himself with a memory. They had just got done hunting, Kyn was irritable because of his lack of death and destruction. Her words ring throughout his mind.

If killing is what you want, then we will find you someone to kill.

Find me someone to kill. He thinks slowly. It’s then, as if on queue, he sees another wolf at the falls. His blood pumps fast and his eyes shine with a sudden excitement. That’s it. That’s his ticket to freedom — his ticket to Simmik’s heart. 

He’d stalk forward, not necessarily quiet, but silent enough to get close enough to attack. Still his attack would be horribly obvious, he’s not the silent type. So he’d lunge for him, not with the intent to kill, but with the intent to put him to sleep. 

He’d drag him back to the den then. All for Simmik. Just for Simmik, he’d make his sacrifice to a goddess among men.

Once, caution was all Dragomir knew.

He was a young boy who jumped at shadows and hyperventilated at the sight of crimson brushed over a black nape, all because of that incident with Sanguinus. For a time, it shattered his ability to trust others. Hydra and Arcturus were the ones who built him back up after that — not his inattentive mother, nor his father with the wanderer's heart, but the strong wolves of Moonspear. Because of them, Dragomir regained his confidence.

Because he was confident and had matured into a fine young wolf, he didn't immediately recognize Kynareth's approach for what it was. He turned from the falls to smile at the approaching wolf, noticing too late that the man's body was tensed in anticipation for a lunge, preparing too late to do anything about it. Dragomir was a big wolf, but Kynareth was colossal.

It was an embarrassingly short scuffle, reminiscent of that day in the woods when Sanguinus turned on him. Just like then, Dragomir's head cracked against some surface or another. Just like then, he slumped into darkness, and just like then, he was dragged away by a bigger and meaner wolf than even Sanguinus had been.