Tired and dehydrated the young wolf runs through the woods sticks and thorns scraping through his pelt to the skin as he tries to weave his way through. The coppery smell of blood faint in the air… no in his nostrils still from the ambush days before, forced to kill for his very life. The wolf doesn’t know why he’s running, most of the rag-tag pack of outcasts being either dead or too wounded to give immediate chase, continues on as the smell of fresh water strikes his nose. Panting heavily he slows to a trot as he comes to the wood-line, he keeps to the shadows as the sun is high overhead as he scouts the area eyes darting to the various wolves that spot the opening before he makes a mad dash to the water’s edge heading for a tall patch of foliage to conceal himself in as he drinks taking large gulps. He pulls his head back and looks into the water, his scarred complexion gazes back at him, small lines of blood show in his white fur from the branches and thorns that tore to his skin as he made his trek through the woods mar his face slightly more when coupled with the partially ripped open marks on his face from his fight days before. Slam droplets fall in to the water from his wounds breaking the mirror like surface and his concentration on his face as he goes back to drinking. ‘More tales to add onto my history.’ The only thought in his mind as he cools himself off in the shade of the bush and water.

"Talks like this."

Now is the time, now is the hour.
To take back my heart, to take back my power.
This is the moment to break your spell.
I see right through you...