Call him crazy, call him mad. Revenge was something that could taint the youngest of wolves. His father would not tell him the name of the one that had killed his mother, his glorious beautiful, strong mother was now dead. He had picked up the scent, the one that had been mixed in dads fur, the smell of blood that was not his mothers. He knew not were it would bring him, or what he would find but hey. If Emry could just walk of and leave the so could Alaric. It was a depressing thought a couple of yearlings already bent for revenge. Where was his brother now? Maybe that was who the yearling boy was looking for now. Snuffing around the mouth of a cave Alaric spots a large sleeping form. He knew he was strong for a pup, his heritage had insured that however not even he, at his size could handle a bear. So he turns and runs off towards the crags. Snow puffing around his form. He truly felt like a real pup in this moment. Sprinting through the snow like a child. Alaric stops at the side of a small frozen over pond. Maybe this troubled child could meet someone his own age, a friend? He had been to determined on his revenge he hadn't lived yet. He begged his dad to train him and so every other day for three hours he would train. His duty when not training was to run the entire boarder of Diveen, the largest pack in Moladion. He was often out of breath after but it built up his stamina and speed. One day he would be great, maybe even greater than his grandfather DevilMayCry the undefeated alpha of Paracon that his father told him so much about. He would take up his fathers quest he would make his family proud, maybe he could train with his cuzin Achilles. Ya, that was his next task. And now the boy waits. For company or perhaps more loneliness at the side of a frozen pond.