Solitude was something that Oblivion had become so accustomed to, it was nearly uncomfortable for him to be in the presence of another after so long. At times he did miss touch and the warmth of another against his own body, but those urges were fleeting and nearly forgotten for months on end. It had been some time since he had felt the closeness of another and yet he did not deserve such a thing. He had done no good to the other that he had once been so close to; it was destined for failure.

And so isolation became his new company. He distanced himself from any others that may have been in the area, sure to avoid them or ignore them completely, he did not want to hurt them too. It was undeniable that Oblivion had some sort of curse clinging to his very soul; as if something now possessed him and willed him to do whatever it pleased when the time came. He had not had any further problems since that evening and planned to be rid of the issue for all of eternity, but fate always had other intentions in mind.

The hulking form of the charcoal and auburn wolf jogged through the woodland in silence, his head turning every now and then to ensure that none were nearby. His demeanor was rather gruff on this early afternoon and if another decided upon getting in his path, then he would not hesitate to brush them off quite brutally. He was in no mood for conversing or even seeing another, which is why he chose to settle himself down for a short nap in the midst of some rather large bushes.