Zaqar was displeased. Mother had let Iromar grow stagnant. She had retreated into the shadows, perhaps taking Haedes with her. Without Ishtar’s leadership, he and his siblings had become almost lost, apathetic even. It was difficult to be motivated in pack life without a present alpha. And so Andras had stepped in to pick up the pieces of the swamp pack. This was what displeased the boy. He had no qualms with Andras, but as the heir it was he who should have been able to take over. As it was, he was considered to young. The thought made him dig his claws into the damp earth in frustration.

Even as he wished to be eligible as an alpha, he had his reservations. His sense of entitlement was high, but when he actually considered what it would mean to lead the pack, his anger subsided slightly. It was an overwhelming thought, and something he would have to carefully think through should another occasion arise.

In the meantime, he would slink around the outer edges of Iromar as he usually did, quietly observing the goings on while he glided over the earth. Though he had reached his full height, he was not yet as heavily muscled as he would be one day and was therefore just as swift as ever. It was while he trotted around with no particular destination in mind that he saw two smaller streaks of black, minutes apart, heading in the direction of the crags. Narrowing his eyes, he changed his course to follow.

It soon became evident as he navigated through the rockier terrain that these were Ishtar’s youngest sons. Zaqar knew little about them – not even their names – and found that he did not have a particularly strong motivation to know more. However, he figured it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun with them while they were all out of the gloom of Iromar.

He noticed that one had followed the other – apparently without being detected, since he was hiding. This was the one who also moved quickly and quietly, the one whose littermates called him the Bleeding Heart. Zaqar smirked as he watched the yearling. He could almost see the mischievous ideas churning in the boy’s head. Slowly, he crept up to join his younger brother. Silently, he pushed his nose against Locke’s shoulder and gave him a small smile. He nodded his head to the left, indicating that the boy should go in that direction, and he himself began to move to the right, still following Rome. Let the game begin.